BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Those of you who actually know me are keenly aware of how I am at an event. By that, I mean – I’m working.

When I go to a Sci-Fi Con, Alternative Spirituality Festival, Book Festival, or whatever manner of convention/fest/what-have-you that is on my tour schedule, I expect to be bouncing from panel to panel, or workshop to workshop. Stick a book signing or two in there, and I’m all good. That is what I EXPECT to be doing. After all, I am there as an author. This is my job…

Something else that folks who attend the Pagan Unity Festival (PUF) in Tennessee know is that come Friday night dinner, they will find me in the chow line. Not ahead of, or behind them, getting a plate filled. Nope. I’ll be on the other side of the line, slopping grub onto their plates, picking at them, asking them questions, telling jokes, singing, and yes, sometimes even dancing.

Why?

Because that way I am guaranteed to meet almost every single person who is on-site. I’m more than willing to admit that I have an ulterior motive for this: I’m selling myself. Not in the lipstick and fishnets next to the lamp post on the corner fashion. Trust me, nobody in their right mind would pay for that. What I am doing, however, is putting a face to a name, and letting folks see that I’m just another warm body wandering the planet, just like them. It is my hope that doing such endears me to folks and makes them feel a little more at ease with buying a book and having me sign it for them.

So far it has seemed to work out well. I have been described by many as “approachable,” whereas I have heard about many other authors being described as exactly the opposite. Of course, I’m not on the NYT Best Seller List, but hey, there’s still time…in theory.

So… What does this have to do with the title of this blog entry? Well, there’s actually a correlation. Thin, but the thread really is there, trust me.

You see, just this past weekend I attended Bouchercon 2011, The World Mystery Convention. This was the 42nd Bouchercon, and the first held in Saint Louis (They are held in a different city each year.) So, with it being so close and my schedule being free, I really didn’t have an excuse not to attend. (First link is to the 2011 convention site. The second will take you to the actual Bouchercon site with all the history…)

But here’s the rub… Hundreds of authors come to Bouchercon. So do several hundreds of fans. However, with hundreds of authors it is really – and I mean REALLY –  hard to get a panel assignment. Any author knows that panels and/or workshops at conventions are your life’s blood. They are what put you in front of the crowd, identify you, identify your book(s), and generate new fans, which is what going to these events is really all about.

As it happens, I was damned lucky – I ended up with a panel assignment. Just one, but hey, given that there were several great authors in attendance who didn’t get a panel at all, I was ecstatic.

Night Chills panel at Bouchercon 2011, Photo Courtesy Gwen Mayo and Sarah Glenn. Back Row (L-R) Jason Starr, Rae Morgan (Monette Draper, our Moderator). Front Row (L-R) M. R. Sellars, Sarah Glenn, Angie Fox, Dakota Banks (Shirley Kennett)

Our group drew a hard slot, that being 8:30 A.M. on the first day of the convention, but neither the hour nor the day deterred us. We met online, got to know one another – and one another’s works and senses of humor. Before long we were the Big Damn Authors and nothing could stop us. We arrived early, handed out swag, including a load of free books, and then proceeded to entertain the pants right off a room full of folks. As it turned out, people were STILL talking about our panel three days later.

But what of the chow line, Murv?

Well, there wasn’t one. But, as we all know, leaving me idle in the middle of a large, swanky, downtown hotel is just asking for trouble. And when I say ALL, I mean me too. I know it in spades, because I’m the one E K punishes for the trouble I cause. Therefore, being painfully aware of this bit of trivia, I volunteered – and when I say volunteered, I mean I volunteered. Not only did I monitor a couple of panels, I did the next best thing to working a chow line. I worked registration for two days straight.

In that time I “meeted and greeted” several hundred folks, and just like the food line at PUF, I joked, sang, and picked at all of them. I even danced a few times. I had people coming to the registration area to chat and get books signed during the lulls. I had people coming back and thanking me for helping them find the location of a particular panel, something to drink, or even more importantly – the restrooms.

And you know what? I had a blast.

So… Will I attend a Bouchercon again? Honestly, probably not. Unless it comes to Saint Louis again. Or maybe Kansas City or Chicago, but even as close as those two cities are it would be very iffy. You see, even though I had a great time, the luck of the draw is against me pulling a panel again, so it really wouldn’t be worth the registration fee, hotel, food, travel, etc.

Of course, the grand plan is that some day I’ll be important enough that they’ll ask me to be there as a guest of the convention, and not just a struggling author who has to buy his way in. But, you know what? When that happens, I’m going to do something that none of the big names did, at least this year…

I’m going to insist that they let me work the registration desk for at least one day so that I can be sure to meet folks.

Unless, of course, there’s a chow line. I wield a pretty mean set of tongs…

More to come…

Murv

PS. I guess you are still wondering about the title of this blog… The Majestic Ballrooms were on the second floor of the conference center portion of the hotel, and were where numerous panels took place (Including Night Chills.) The most common question we received from attendees – over and above “where are the restrooms?” – was, “Where’s Majestic A, B, C?”

I’m actually a little late to the party here.

Not just with the late blog, mind you. I mean with the topic. Although I have known about this particular issue for some time, I have been thinking on it. You see, I have a personal rule –

Don’t dis other authors, or their work, in public. It just makes you look like an ass.

I’ve been adhering to that rule, because I already look like a big enough ass. Or is that douchebag? I keep getting them mixed up. Oh well, either way, I’ve kept my mouth shut about this while the rest of the world had gone monkeyshit crazy about it. Well… I’ve finally decided to say something, but I think I’ll try to restrain myself to shithouse rat crazy.

You see, Snoopi… Wait… Snacki? No… That’s an Eric Cartmann thing… Snoozi? No… That was a dwarf, right?… Wait… Oh yeah. Snooki. I think she works in a pool hall or something… Anywho, it seems that Snoowhatever wrote a book. From what I understand, not a very good book. I have no intention of buying it, nor of even checking it out of the library. I did, however, accidentally read an excerpt from it.

I say accidentally because I was reading an article and it contained said excerpt. I read the first line of the selected passage and stopped cold. I had to read it three or four more times to make sure it said what I thought it said. Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not as if it was trainwreck worthy. If that were the case I wouldn’t say a word, because no matter how bad it is, if it is trainwreck worthy it is something that will hook a reader and keep them going – ergo, it will sell books.

This wasn’t a trainwreck. It was more along the lines of suddenly discovering rat droppings in your Moo Goo Gai Pan after having consumed over half the carton. Yeah, disgusting and horrifying. Not just the content, but the writing as well.

But that’s not my issue. I mean, not everyone can write. Just like not everyone can be a brain surgeon. I do, however, take umbrage with the vast majority of folks out there who seem to think “writing” is easy and something just anyone can do. Case in point, Snoopi, or whatever the hell her name is.

But we still aren’t at my issue.

You see, I used to want to be on the New York Times Bestseller list. I’ve always seen that as some sort of brass ring where my writing career is concerned. You know, New York, New York… If I can make it there, I can make it anywhere… Hitting the NYT Bestseller list would mean I finally made it. My books would be flying off the shelves. My peers would take me seriously. As it stands right now, most of them do. The handful that don’t can kiss my… Well… getting off subject again. You know me…

But like I said, I used to want to be on the NYT Bestseller list. Now, I should point out that I have a few author friends who are, so my blog here today is not meant in any way to diminish their accomplishments. They are excellent writers who have honed their craft and deserve the honor. However, when I look at the list I also see that MOST of the names are people I’ve never even heard of.  Okay… So they made it too. Good for them. I’m a little surprised and not knowing who they are. I mean, I’m fairly well-read, but what the hell, I can’t know everything. Obviously they have a book that is so popular that it is moving off the shelves like hotcakes at the all you can eat free church breakfast.

I mean, after all, it is the New York Times BEST SELLER list, right? That sort of implies that the books in question are the cream of the crop. Those that are selling best, i.e., better than all of the other books.

Then you see something like this:

So… This bizarre little hardcover missive about a girl who launches loud, stinky farts while she “shakes her peaches for show” is a New York Times Bestseller.

Yes, it’s true. It debuted on the list at #24.

At first, that made me wonder about society as a whole. Truth is, I still do, but at least something like this meant that the Toob-Blinded sheeple might actually be READING something for a change. So, as distasteful as the chosen material happens to be, at least they were READING.

Then the Bookscan numbers came out. If you aren’t familiar with those, they track how many copies are actually sold. Well… Given that it was at #24 on the NYT Bestseller list within two weeks of its release, that number should be in the tens of thousands, right? Probably more like over 100,000.

Instead, it was 8998.

Yes. Eight Thousand Nine-Hundred Ninety-Eight. An eight followed by two nines and another eight. Four figures. Poverty level.

Too bad for Snoopi. Guess she’ll drop right off that coveted list with dismal numbers like those.

But no. She merely slipped a bit to #28.

Even though sales are sluggish right now, I’ve had way better numbers than those. Makes me wonder why I haven’t spent some time on the NYT…

But like I said. I “yoosta wanna” make it onto the NYT… After seeing this, not so much anymore…

More to come…

Murv

For the record: Positions on the NYT Bestseller List are NOT calculated based solely on sales of a title. It is a complex algorithm drawn from initial print runs, marketing hype, units shipped to retailers, and strategically scheduled lunch dates. ACTUAL sales to readers are a variable that is thrown in after the fact and carries far less weight than the first four factors at the outset. Its relevance grows as the book  either rockets through its sell-through cycle, or simply founders and ends up with vast numbers being returned and “remaindered.” I know this just like every other author on the block, so please take this piece for what it is – a satirical look at the publishing industry, smoke and mirrors marketing, and the “wag the dog” principle.