BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Several days ago I was contacted by a newly-minted author. That is to say, a young lady whose very first book was seeing publication, and who was taking her first steps out onto that pothole-filled, ice-slicked, ultra-jam-packed highway that is self-promotion.

In particular, scheduling book signings.

Book signing events are an author’s way of getting a chance to scribble in books without getting in trouble for it. We all carry a box of crayons because secretly that is what we wish we could use to sign books. You know, just a doodle of BLIZZARD BLUE with a couple of underlines of BRICK RED and BURNT ORANGE. All circled by UNMELLOW YELLOW. After all, we want our artistic side to shine.

Scribble, scribble, scribble... 🙂

Okay… so not really. Well… not always, we’ll put it that way.

The gist of my story here is that she wanted advice from someone who had not only been around the block a couple of times, but had the scrapes and scars to prove it. And, when she couldn’t get hold of him, she contacted me.

As with any shiny, fresh-faced new author who has no clue what is happening and is nervous as all hell, she had questions. Having been there, I was more than happy to answer those questions, but as usually happens in my case, simple answers turned into a small novel. Well… short story, at least.

When E K saw what I had written she suggested I share it with folks here on my blog because I had put quite a bit of effort into it. As we all know, an E K suggestion is tantamount to a direct order, and also as we all know, I do what E K says out of self-preservation.

So, here is my reply to that young lady, with a little added text here and there that came to me later. Not really new advice in that sense, but explanation of the advice originally given. You will notice that it reads similar to my advice for authors and aspiring writers “filk” of Wear Sunscreen (see: Use Flash Drives) – However, upon trying to actually make it fit the cadence of that piece and such, I was forced to leave too much of the advice out of it. I didn’t want to do that.

E K didn’t want me to do that either.

Still, I must preface this with a simple disclaimer: This is merely MY take on book signing events as drawn from my decade plus of experiences with them.  Make of it what you will…

My Advice On Book Signing Events

Have fun.

Sign the title or half-title page. Your choice, but be consistent.

Keep a blank pad near you to test pens when they suddenly die without reason, AND for when you need to practice a name, as someone will invariably ask for their inscription to be made out to some name with no vowels other than y plus 37 consonants in no particular order (and only they will be able to pronounce it – likely improperly – but hey, it’s their name they just made up so roll with it and laugh later.)

Or they will want it made out to something like “Lord Bastard Fuckwad of the Asshole Dynasty, Utah Chapter.” While that might sound like I just made it up, I didn’t. I will never forget signing that particular book or the inscription, trust me.

Make eye contact.

Smile.

Ask the person’s name and use it when you talk to them, even if you forget it the minute they step away from the table. When you sign their book, ask them how to spell it. You’d be amazed at how many different ways there are to spell Mary.

Take a friend with you. Have them run interference if you get a crazy. I once had a woman explaining to me how she was a REAL Vampire Slayer (unlike the fake vampire slayers I suppose) and that she was there to slay all of my fans because they must be vampires since I write about vampires. I don’t, of course, but you couldn’t convince her of that. If crazy gets a target lock on you, a wingman(woman) will be invaluable. Set up a signal so that you don’t look like you are giving the crazy the brush off. Something innocuous your wingperson will notice and understand means “Scotty, beam this flake out of here.”

Expect stupid questions. Expect smart questions. Answer both of them with the same earnest and sincerity. Failing that, use humor. It will save you if you get in a pinch, 99% of the time. This may sound easy, but trust me – after answering the exact same question for 137 different people, separately, at the same book signing, after having already answered it up in front of all of them during the Q&A, you’ll know just how much work it really is. People do not listen as well as you imagine.

Accept that it is possible you will run into a crazy who will not go away, no matter what, and even humor won’t save you. Be ecstatic when you don’t run into same.

Practice your signature for 20 minutes every day, blindfolded, until you can sign it in the dark, behind your back, while carrying on a conversation. If you manage to do this, you are way better than me.

Don’t make promises to readers you don’t intend to keep, and don’t put up with readers who demand that you do.

Don’t waste money on expensive business cards. Some people will take them, some people won’t… The book is what’s important, and in the end the business card will just get thrown in the trash.

Put some candy on your table. Give it away for free. Maybe some bookmarks. If nobody is stopping by the table, get up and walk around. Hand out the bookmarks. Introduce yourself. Don’t be shy about why you are there, but don’t be a hard sell either.

Don’t be afraid to suggest someone else’s book to a reader. They, and the store, will appreciate your honesty, and your help.

Never put down another author or their books in public. Even if you would like to run over them repeatedly with your car. It only makes you look like an ass.

Take plenty of extra ink pens, and a roll of breath mints.

USE the breath mints.

Do NOT dine at a “Garlic Hut”, “Tandoori Monkey”, or any other pungent food vendor just prior to your signing.

Don’t be afraid of your readers. Remember, they are there to see you. But whatever you do, be genuine. All you have done is written a book. This does not make you the center of the universe.

Accept praise graciously, but don’t let it go to your head. If you do, you will alienate your friends, store owners, readers, and potential readers.

Do not start believing your own press, because once you start down that road, it is already too late.

Pay attention to everything. You never know when you might need a funny or interesting story that starts, “A funny thing happened to me at a book signing…”

But trust me on the having fun thing…

More to come…

Murv

I’m under the gun with writing at the moment – no Palin, crosshair, vitriolic references intended – so I’m a bit behind in the blog department. While wondering what I could dash off in a few minutes this morning I was surfing Facebook, as per my usual routine and I noticed one of my friends had posted something about having coffee then giving blood on a particular day. Therefore, in the interest of saving time I thought I’d just re-run this particular leak for everyone. It is part 2 of 2, and can pretty much stand alone. But, as usual, feel free to click the link at the beginning so that you can go back and read part 1.

Is This Thing On?

Continued from: You Want My What?

Let’s see, now where were we?

Oh yeah… When last we left off, I had been drained of the majority of my blood by Hildegard Renfield at the behest of Vampirella, the evil Red Cross shill who had been sent to prowl through a Science Fiction convention looking for an unsuspecting author who had been working so hard that he wouldn’t be able to resist her offer of OJ and cookies. Oh, and I’d also been told to stay out of bright lights, make sure to not get myself wet, and whatever I do, definitely don’t feed myself after midnight, correct? No, wait… those are Mogwai…

Oh, oh, wait, I know… I was told not to drink any booze!

Right?

Good, then we are all on the same page.

So, there I was, booted out the back of the Blood Mobile by Vampirella’s evil henchwoman, with only an Amazing Spiderman band-aid, some stale cookie crumbs, and an eyedropper full of OJ for my trouble. And, on top of that, I was a pint low. I still say it was really more than a pint, because I caught Hildegard chanting, “Two for the boss, one for me… One for the boss, one for me… One for the boss, two for me…”

However, if that wasn’t bad enough, Chunkee – remember Chunkee? – was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. Unfortunately, it wasn’t because he was armed with wooden stakes as he prepared to storm the rolling exsanguination station in order to rescue me. Nope, it was because Hildegard had spent so much time bleeding me (apparently she didn’t have an adequate vacuuming system <– gratuitous Firefly reference) that we had no time to spare. He already had the ChunkMobile warmed up and sitting nearby so that we could race downtown to Union Station and have a confab with the show hosts before going on air.

So, that’s what we did. The Chunkster drove like a madman, taking out old ladies with the door, honking his horn, and generally driving on the sidewalk when necessary. And, with a bit of time to spare, we arrived. We apologized profusely for the obvious rush and disorientation we were displaying, and explained the situation. It was no problem. Terry and John were all good and understood perfectly. In fact, they even said, “Hey, we have this sponsor who dropped off a bunch of energy drinks for us. Want one?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

So, one of them ran out and then came back with an armload of these little silver cans with red, blue and yellow logos printed on them.

Now, while this particular “energy drink” had been around in the United States for about 5 years, it hadn’t really been on my radar. To be honest, I’d never even heard of it. But, what the hell. I was game.

I looked at the can and said, “No alcohol, right? This is just an energy drink?”

I mean, after all, Hildegard told me I couldn’t have alcoholic beverages, right? She never said anything about energy drinks.

“Yep, just energy drink,” they told me. “No booze at all.”

“Okay,” I said, then popped open the can and downed it.

A few minutes later they led us into an empty studio they were using as a “green room” so that I could wait until it was my turn to be on the air. Upon depositing us there, they left an armload of the silver cans too, saying, “Here. Have some more.”

So, I did.

Now, I need to point something out to you folks. If you have read my blogs you know I’ve spent plenty of time behind a microphone. Just a couple of blogs back I talked about my days at my High School student run station. I did the college station thing too. In later years I even did guest spots on local stations to answer technical questions for callers. So, I had plenty of experience behind a microphone AND in front of crowds. Hell, this wasn’t even my first rodeo as an author being interviewed. I’d done that plenty of times as well. This was no big deal. It was old hat. I could do it in my sleep…

But, for some odd reason, I simply couldn’t sit still. I was pacing, fidgeting, and doing everything but bouncing off the walls. Actually, that’s not entirely true. There is a good possibility that I did, in fact, bounce off the walls once or twice… At any rate, Chunkee sat watching me in wide-eyed amazement for several minutes before finally asking me what was wrong.

“I dunno,” I told him.

“Are you nervous or something?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “I can’t imagine why I would be. It’s just a radio talk show. I’ve done more of these than I can count.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “So what gives?”

“I really don’t know,” I said, giving my head a shake as I paced from wall to wall 14 more times in the span of 5 seconds. “Gimme another one of those drinks.”

And, he did. And, I drank it.

Before long, Terry and John retrieved me and brought me into the studio where the magic was happening. It was reminiscent of some of my old, late-evening talk shows back in high school – the lights were off, everything was laid back and just plain cool. We did our sound checks, came in from a break, they introduced me, and BAZZINGA! It’s off to the races we went.

I was scheduled to be on for 20 minutes that evening, and I came on at the bottom of the first hour of a 3 hour show. When it was time to say farewell, they didn’t. Instead they went to a commercial break, turned to me and said, “Holy crap, you’re the liveliest guest we’ve had in months. Want to stay on for the rest of the show?”

I thought about it for a second, then looked at them and said, “Got any more of those little silver cans?”

“Oh hell yeah,” they said. “The sponsor dropped off a friggin’ truckload. Want some more?”

“Line ’em up,” I said. “We got some dead air to fill.”

And so, the moral of this story is – Don’t listen to Hildegard Renfield. She doesn’t tell you the whole story when it comes to this exsanguination thing. Oh, and yeah, Red Bull is kinda like crack if you drink it right after giving blood…

More to come…

Murv