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  • Bookstore Wars…

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    I’ve noticed lately that bookstores seem to be turning into a room full of ill tempered toddlers with only one toy between them. And, like said cranky diaper fillers, they fight over it until one of them wins, then the losers throw big screaming tantrums.

    If I have intrigued you with that comment, please bear with some of the rambling that will ensue and read on.  Especially if you own, run, or manage a bookstore. I promise I’ll try to keep the extraneous verbiage to a minimum for this one.

    First off, let me get something important out of the way –  I love bookstores, so I’m not slamming them. Hey, I write books for a living. They are sort of like my office away from home. So, let’s not go spreading vicious rumors about how I hate bookstores, because that would be a lie.

    Secondly, but by no means any less important, I know that I’m a lower mid-lister, so don’t accuse me of being a prima dona, especially before you read my explanation of the above commentary. I’m painfully aware of the fact that the PTB’s who create the NYT Bestseller list are oblivious to my existence. If I were to be mentioned to them the likely response would be, “M. R. Who?”… I get that. Also, no one has optioned my books for movies. My wife still has a full time job, because my royalties alone won’t support us – much less buy us a new house, fancy cars, and expensive vacations. Again, I get that. Please make note that I am not complaining about this. I am pointing out that I am well aware that I am not Cornwell-King-Grisham-Patterson-Hamilton-Rowling-ad nauseum. I’m not even Richard Castle, although there is a preponderance of circumstantial evidence pointing to the fact that he could very well be a semi-fictionalized and much more successful version of me. But, that’s another blog.

    What we really need to talk about is bookstores.

    So, here’s the thing… I made my opening statement because over the past couple of years there have been these bizarre incidents occurring. What I mean by that is this: I will be signing and speaking at a bookstore, whereupon I will discover – sometimes directly, sometimes indirectly – that another bookstore in the same town “wanted me.” The first time or two, this was actually a little heartening. I mean, after all, everyone wants to be wanted, right? Otherwise Cheap Trick would have never topped the charts with that song…

    However, this eventually started happening enough that it went beyond flattering and headlong into a chronic case of WTF?itis.

    Allow me to illustrate – with words, of course. Drawing really isn’t my strong suit…

    I was in another state. I won’t say which because I don’t want to cause trouble for any of the parties involved. The bookstore where I was signing had not only booked me, but had provided airfare, lodging, and meals. Something that is fairly standard in the case of “we must have you on THIS date” sort of bookings that are initiated by a bookstore. It’s different if I am taking myself on tour, my publisher is sending me on tour, or if I just happen to be in the area. So, anyway, all good.

    Well, not so much. In the eyes of a different bookstore, anyway. It seems that the management of the big chain bookstore in town, who shall also remain nameless, was angry. So angry, in fact, that they sent employees to the indy bookstore prior to my arrival in order to interrogate the owners about “why I wasn’t coming to their store because THEY wanted me.” Based on what I heard from the store owners AND multiple witnesses, it got a little ugly. Granted, this was all second hand info, and as always must be taken with a grain of salt, but these folks really had no reason to lie.

    However, the thing is, the above is merely one incident of many like it over the past couple of years – executed not only by chain bookstores upon indies, but by indies upon other indies as well.

    And now we come to the here and now…

    Very recently, at the behest of some truly marvelous and hard driving fans, I booked a gig at a store in a town where I am going to be in close proximity during a quick trip for a family reunion. Trust me, it wasn’t easy to work out at my end. Doing this required some extra vacation time logistics on the part of my wife, and she guards those days very closely, so I’m going to owe her one or two – not that this is anything new. At any rate, I have now discovered that the OTHER chain store in town “wants me.” Now, in the interest of full disclosure, there have NOT been any tantrums in this case, as there have been in others. This is a good thing. But I still need to ask a simple question: How was I supposed to know you wanted me at your store? Contrary to popular belief, I am NOT psychic. That’s probably the character in my books you are thinking about there.

    Like I said, I know I’m not in demand like a King, Hamilton, Patterson, etc… I get that. But, obviously there must be some demand or this sort of thing wouldn’t be happening. It’s either that, or as I said at the outset, bookstores have turned into a bunch of ill-tempered toddlers looking for something to whine about just for the sake of whining. Honestly, I have a hard time believing the latter. Maybe I’m naive, but hey, I like to think bookstores haven’t gone off the deep end.

    So, attention out there bookstores, be you chain or indy. Here’s my deal…

    If you are interested in having me sign books and present a reading, seminar, or Q&A at your store, you really need to let me know. If you don’t, then when I happen to be coming to your town on tour or even on a lark, I’m just going to start going down the list of bookstores in the phone book until someone answers and says yes. I’m not expecting you to call me up and beg me to come to your store, so don’t even go there. I’m simply saying, you have to let me know, and if you don’t, then you have absolutely no right to be mad at me or the bookstore where I am appearing. However, I make you this promise: If I know that you’d be interested in hosting a signing I will keep you in my database and when I’m coming to your area you’ll be the first place I call.

    All it takes is an email – either to me, or one of my publicists. The info is all right there on my website.

    I’m pretty sure this goes for just about any author out there, not just me.  It’s the old lottery tagline: You can’t win if you don’t play.

    Of course, if you want me for a specific date, then we have some discussing to do, but that’s a whole different ballgame and we’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.

    And, readers, you also might want to take note – the upcoming gig I mentioned is happening because of some very industrious fans who let me know they wanted me to visit their city, and have been working very hard to ramp up excitement about the event now that it is booked.  So, the same thing goes for y’all too. If you want me to come to your city/town, I want to hear about it. That way, when my publicist says, “Murv, where do you want to go on tour?” I can say, “Glad you asked, as it just so happens…”

    More to come…

    Murv

  • The Big Three Oh…

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    Well, when it comes to “age” the proverbial Big Three Oh is languishing somewhere in a valley well behind a mountain range that is rapidly shrinking in my rear view mirror. That is to say, 30 was a long, long time ago… An entire voting and drafting age adult ago, in fact. However, if you do the math it works out that I took my final bow at Ritenour Senior High thirty years ago this past June. And, like most high school alumni association type folks, mine tossed a shindig to celebrate this milestone.

    The party – or parties, I should say – in question occurred this past weekend (July 16 & 17), at two different locations, beginning with a “Multi Year Happy Hour” at the Lemp Mansion on Friday evening, which saw graduates spanning ’73 – ’84.  (Yours truly was a member of the “hosting class” for the shindig, 1980). Much fun was had, many old faces seen. Some old faces with new construction. Some old faces that hadn’t changed. But mostly, we were all just old. I visited with friends I hadn’t seen in 30 years, and some I hadn’t seen in 5. I even visited with people I didn’t know that I knew and am still not entirely certain that I know, if that makes any sense. As a rule, it seemed a healthy chunk of the folks knew me – or of me – whereas I had a passing familiarity with a much smaller percentage, and am friends with an even smaller number than that.

    This can be a little disconcerting, but beer helps. Several beers helps even more…

    Night two was the “Class of 80 Reunion Proper” and it was held at the Missouri Athletic Club – a posh private club in downtown Saint Louis with fancy ballrooms and high end food. Suffice it to say, when the elaborate appetizer table features plenty of Stilton and Brie among the countless selections, you definitely aren’t talking “supermarket cheese tray” here. This is some upscale digs.

    At any rate, the evening was filled with more chatting, old faces, new old faces, old new faces, and as always seems to be the case with me, a bit of the bizarre. What follows here is a Facebook note I put out there to recap the evening. Since many of my blog readers aren’t on FB, I thought I’d re-run it here:

    RHS Class of ’80 30 Year Reunion Recap…

    ...from the perspective of a satire slinging suspense-thriller author, of course.

    Drive… Drive… Drive.
    Park
    Walk… Walk… Walk…

    Check in table…

    Kathy (Not EK): MURV!
    Me: KATHY!
    Teri: Here’s your nametag.
    Me: I have a nametag? YAY! I’m SOMEBODY!!!
    Teri: Have fun.
    Me: We’ll try. But if we don’t it’s your fault and I’m going to come looking for you.
    Teri: SECURITY!

    Mingle… Mingle…

    Me: Yeah, the redhead will have a tonic with a twist. What kind of beer do you have?
    Bartender: AB this… AB that… AB the other… AB… AB…
    Me: What, no C?
    Bartender: AB this… AB that… AB the other… AB… AB…

    Random Classmate: Hi.
    Me: Hi, ummm, do I know you?
    Random Classmate: I don’t know, but I know you.
    Me: Sorry… I just can’t place you.
    Random Classmate: You’re that guy.
    Me: I am?
    Random Classmate: Yeah.
    Me: Oh, uh, okay.

    Mingle… Mingle…

    Random Classmate: Hi. We went to school together.
    Me: Ummm, yeah. I think that could be said for most everyone in the room. Here’s your sign.

    Random Classmate: Picture, picture. I need a picture.
    (smile) {flash}
    Random Classmate: Me too! Me too!
    (smile) {flash}
    Random Classmate: Over here, Murv!
    (smile) {flash}
    (smile) {flash}
    (smile) {flash}
    {little floaty spots in front of my face}
    Music in my head: BLINDED BY THE LIGHT, REVVED UP LIKE A…

    [hug]
    [hug}
    [handshake]
    [hug]
    [handshake]

    E K: Who was that?
    Me: I have no effing idea.

    [hug]
    [hug]
    [handshake]

    Random Classmate: Murv! How are you? Remember that time when we blah blah whatchmacallit blah?
    Me: Ummm. No?
    Random Classmate: Oh come on. We blah blah, then bla… Oh… Wait… That wasn’t you. Sorry.
    Me: No problem. I get that a lot.
    Random Classmate: Ummmm… I hear you write books now.
    Me: That’s the rumor.
    Random Classmate: You’re going to put this in a book aren’t you?
    Me: (nodding) Yeah. Probably. At the very least I’ll make fun of you in a blog or something.

    Random Classmate: Hi.
    Me: Hi.
    Random Classmate: Do you know me?
    Me: Hell no, I don’t even know myself.
    Random Classmate: You’re that guy, right?
    Me: That’s what I’ve been hearing.
    Random Classmate: No. Really. You’re that guy.
    Me: Okay, you got me. I’m that guy. But, sometimes when I’m feeling pretty, I’m that girl.
    Random Classmate: O_o.
    Me: Yeah, kinda scary, huh? (Especially since I look nothing at all like Marlo Thomas.)

    BUFFET LINE…

    E K: Woohoo! VEGGIES!
    Random Classmate: (pointing) Ummm… What’s that?
    Me: (pointing) Grilled eggplant, grilled zucchini, grilled asparagus, grilled portabello mushroom, grilled peppers…
    Random Classmate: Oh… those are vegetables, right? I’ll pass…
    Me: You’d have a much easier time with that if you actually ate some of the veggies. Fiber, ya’know.
    Random Classmate: O_o

    Eat… Eat…Eat…

    DJ Jazzy J And The Funky Bunch – YO! {{{feedback… buzzzzz… squeal… feedback}}}
    [MYOO-ZIK – Thumpita Thumpita TWANG THUMPA]

    Random Classmate: HI!
    Me: WHAT?
    Random Classmate: HI!
    Me: WHAT?
    Random Classmate: YOU’RE MURV, RIGHT?
    Me: OH, I THINK IT’S JUST DOWN THE HALL.
    Random Classmate: WHAT?

    Me: (relating an anecdote to friends) …And then at my last book launch I had someone who actually believed she’s a “REAL vampire slayer” and wanted to “slay” my fans when they showed up.
    Steve, Cathy, and Nathan: You actually get crazy people showing up?
    Me: At least one at every event. Sometimes more…
    (frantic high heels coming closer – clickity, clackity, clickety, clackety…)
    Random Classmate: You don’t know me, but I know about you!
    Me: What will it take for you to not call the police? I really can’t afford another strike on my record right now.
    Random Classmate: O_o… Ummm… I know who you are.
    Me: I’m glad someone does, because I lost my wallet.
    Random Classmate: No… You don’t understand… I know what you do.
    Me: Like I said, how much for you to not call the police?
    Random Classmate: No… You write books.
    Me: I’ve heard that about me.
    Random Classmate: Well, have I got a story for you!
    Me: Really? What is it?
    Random Classmate: I can’t tell you because you’ll steal it.
    Me: Yeah, I don’t blame you. Just can’t trust us author types.
    Random Classmate: But I’ll sell it to you.
    Me: Sugar, no offense, but I have more ideas running around in my head than I’ll be able to write in my lifetime, so I’m not going to steal it or buy it.
    Random Classmate: But this has never been done before and it will make a great movie.
    Me: So, what is it?
    Random Classmate: I can’t tell you. You’ll steal it.
    E K: [giggle]
    Steve, Cathy, Nathan: Crap… You weren’t kidding, were you?

    {flash} {flash}
    [hug hug]

    Random Classmate: Hmmnimmm… Wharz baffoom?
    Me: Hall to the left.
    Random Classmate: Hmmmnim.
    clickety, clackety, clickety, clackety, CRASH!
    Steve, Nathan, Cathy, EK, Me: (checking on the noise) Are you okay?
    Random Classmate: Hmminnmm rmmm hhmminnimmmmm…

    (frantic high heels coming closer – clickity, clackity, clickety, clackety…)
    Previous Random Classmate: I’ve got a story… I’ve got a story… I’ve got a story…
    Steve, Cathy, and Nathan: This is going in a book, isn’t it?
    Me: Probably.

    Various Classmates: Bye… See you in five years.
    Me: Bye. See you on Facebook.

    Many of my friends keep telling me that my experience has something to do with celebrity. I think they’re wrong, because we didn’t have any celebrities at the reunion, other than the folks who worked so hard to put the shindig together.

    Rumor has it the 35th is going to be a 4 day cruise. I have to wonder if I’ll be hearing clickity, clackity, clickety, clackety… stumble… gaaahhhhhhh! SPLASH!

    I hope not, but if I do I’ll have no choice but to put it in a book. After laughing so hard that my drink shoots out my nose... Why? Because I’m that guy.

    More to come…

    Murv

    (Pictured: Photo 1 – Dave Perkins, M. R. Sellars, E K… Photo 2 – Kathy Patterson Inkley, M. R. Sellars…)