" /> BRAINPAN LEAKAGE » chance
  • I Sign Where?

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    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

  • Sometimes You Just Gotta Say, #WTF…

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    There are times when you have to clean out the old brainpan. Get rid of excess words, phrases, clauses, and other ridiculous stuff. It’s a battle writers fight constantly. Generally we do it because if we don’t get the unsaleable crap out of the way, then we can’t put the saleable crap on the paper.

    Kinda like freeing up a log jam, so to speak.

    So, I’m sure you are probably wondering what qualifies as a writer’s soluble fiber for the brain… The Ex-Lax for the cerebral cortex so to speak…

    I have no clue.

    All I can say is that when it takes hold, all manner of nonsensical BS  – AKA Brain Sh*t – will spew forth. If you don’t believe me, just read the other entries in this blog… I mean, it isn’t called Brainpan Leakage for nothing, ya’know…

    So, anyway, on this particular day in history, my grey matter was cramping a bit, and the next thing you know I had… well… you know… an urgent brain movement.

    Not having time to get to the blog, I took advantage of the first receptacle I could find… What follows here are a series of inane, nonsensical, brain sh*t expelling tweets sent forth from my Twitter account this morning, all including their original hashtag – #WTF…

    BTW – I received three comments in the wake of this leakage – one person was horribly confused, another enjoyed them immensely, and well, the other commented by simply unfollowing me. Guess I was just a little too intense.


    I wasn’t concerned when she pulled the handcuffs from her overnight bag. However, the spatula and pinking shears gave me pause… #WTF

    There was only one way out that didn’t involve a body bag. Now, all I needed were some high heels, a spark plug, and a can of peas… #WTF

    The stilettos, she had, even if they weren’t my size. It was the spark plug and canned veggies that seemed out of my reach… #WTFpinking-shears

    The room smelled like toast, and she looked like prepackaged sex. It was when the pizza arrived that I understood her plan… #WTF

    It was thin crust, with double anchovies and extra cheese. The aroma was intoxicating, but somehow I knew it wasn’t meant for me… #WTF

    “You’re late!” she screamed. The pizza guy cowered, but it was too late. Now the pinking shears protruded from his chest… #WTF

    anchovy_pizzaIf only there had been black olives on that pie, then perhaps I could have made my escape. But, the peas were still eluding me… #WTF

    My luck held. She grabbed the spatula, then went in search of another victim. “Be right back,” she said, as she exited the room… #WTF

    This was my chance. Maybe I could do this without the peas. But wait, what about the shoes? Damn, she was still wearing them… #WTF

    I resigned myself to whatever fate had in store. Even if I could get by without the peas, the high heels and spark plug were a must… #WTFpeas

    I had just given up when the hotel detective entered the room. “Am I interrupting?” he asked. “Yes, but please do,” I replied… #WTF

    It seems they had found her in the lobby, spatula in hand as she served cheesecake to the guests in her own special way… #WTF

    “What tipped you off?” I asked, absently rubbing my wrists where the handcuffs had been cinched tight…. #WTF

    ngk-sparkplug-main_full“She wouldn’t let anyone have seconds,” the hotel detective replied, offering me a cigarette… #WTF

    I lit the cig and stared off into space while muttering, “You know, if she’d left the shoes, I’m sure I could’ve escaped.” #WTF

    The hotel detective shook his head. “Not likely. They were fuschia.” I looked at him sideways. “Fuschia?” #WTF

    “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “If they’d been red, maybe. But fuchsia, not a chance.” I nodded my own head in agreement… #WTFaaaac6sjmocaaaaaadw7pw

    “So, how did this all start?” the hotel detective asked. After correcting my spelling of fuchsia I looked out the window and sighed… #WTF

    “Well, you see,” I began. “There was this pair of handcuffs…”  – 30 –  #WTF

    More to come…

    Murv

    Note: If you Twitter you can follow me @mrsellars. Be careful, I might follow back…