“I’ve finished the book,” I
shouted dancing a circle with my wife.
“Is that good or bad? You’ve
been on cloud nine for a year. Now what?”
“Sell it. What else? The fun goes
on.”
To sell my novel I’ll go
to America Online! Heck, any idiot can
create a home page in fifteen minutes with their magic software. I was
not enough of an idiot. So I hired my brother. He had no problem.
Trouble is, AOL forbids commercial
use so they deleted the page, but, for only $700 I hired a
professional. He created a home page which, for additional fees,
included a host, ISP, site, etc. Then I bought books, tapes, software,
etc. about how to publicize the page. I attracted hundreds of
literature starved readers, really starved readers. They were too weak
to order.
The people I wrote about didn’t
like what I said about them. They denied everything, threw the book at
me and went off threatening that I better not sell it to their friends
either.
The publisher said the book would be
listed with Barnes and Noble. I got on the net, typed in, “WWW.Wild,
Wicked Web” and, sure enough, there was a picture of my book, a
description and a price. There must be hundreds of customers
desperate to meet the author to buy autographed copies.
I approached the local B&N store
manager.
“You want to do a signing?” he
said with delight. “Are you on our data base?”
“I sure am,” I replied, oozing
self-confidence.
He sat down at his computer. Click,
click, click. “Hmmmm.” Click, click, click. “I can’t find your
name or the book on our data base.”
“That’s strange. I found it on
my computer.”
“Oh, that.” His lip curled. “That’s
a web database. You have to be on the store data base to do a
signing.”
“So how do I get it there?”
“Corporate decides that.”
“So how do I get ‘corporate’
to decide?”
The nice man handed me a card with
‘corporate’s phone number. “Why don’t you call them and ask.”
He looked past me and crooked his finger at the next customer in
line.
I called “corporate.”
“Who was your publisher?”
“Me.”
“Forget it.” Click.
I approached an independent
bookstore. The owners wanted a 40% discount and would consider a week’s
consignment with no written contract. “You can leave two books.”
“Let’s see. It costs me $5.00 in
gas for a round trip to collect a $2.00 profit and leave more books. I’d
lose $1.50 a copy.”
“Well, it’s a way to sell them.”
“That’s true. I wouldn’t even
lose much money.”
The airport bookstores!
My book would sell there by the thousands. I went to the
airport. Vendors there shied from me with furtive, suspicious stares.
“We’re contracted exclusively to distributors. If we buy from you,
we’re out of business.” They waved me away, certain I had been
sent to test their loyalty to the distributor Mafia.
I checked with the airport
management. “Could I rent space for a book kiosk?”
“We don’t allow kiosks here. You
guys think you can come in here in disguise and try to recruit people
into your religion. This ain’t no church.”
If I sell just one book to
each library in America, that’s 10,000 copies.
I went to the head of the City Library with my book and an
ingratiating smile.
I approached the acquisitions
librarian with the book extended. She backed off as if she could see
germs crawling on it.
“We select all our books through
The Kirkus Review,” she said.
I lowered the book despondently, “How
do I get listed?” I asked.
I have no idea,” she answered. “I’ll
give you their number.” She wrote a phone number on a piece of paper
and flicked it across the table so she wouldn’t risk contact with
me.
“Thanks.”
I went home and dialed the number.
“If you know your party’s
extension, dial 1. If you are trying to collect on a bill, dial 2. If
you have a password, dial 3. If none of the above, go away.”
A friend emailed me. “I have a
friend who talks dirty to people on the phone for a living. Maybe she
could promote your book.”
I thanked her and looked forward to
being the only author made famous by a lady who makes dirty phone
calls.
One of my ‘How To’ books advised
“Show your book to established authors and agents at writers’
conferences. Networking is what’s important.”
A writers’ conference cost another
$500 for fees, transportation, etc. The previously mentioned etceteras
and this one came to $200.
At the conference I approached
several authors with my book in hand. They lowered their extended
books and ran.
With the book behind me I cornered
an author. “I’ve sold 10,000 copies of mine,” he said.
“Wow! You’ve made some really
good money.”
“Well, I sell the books at cost. I
spend a lot on travel, posters, etc. The etc. is bankrupting me. My
kids don’t know who I am, but I’m becoming well known otherwise.
That’s the secret. You gotta network.”
“Oh.”
“You wanna buy one?”
“If I buy yours, will you buy
mine?”
“No, that’s etc. You gotta avoid
etc.”
My wife suggested I set up a table
in a parking lot. “That’s against the law,” I said.
“I see people selling watermelons
like that.”
“Watermelons are okay. Books aren’t.”
“I have an idea,” she said
brightly. “Give them to a thrift store. People will read them and
network with other people about them.”
“Network! Yesss. And no etc
expense!”
I wonder if The Salvation Army or
Goodwill would have the most promotional readers?
Magazine