Blurb is a Verb: Hurricanes, Snowstorms & Bookstore Events
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I love The Onion. But recently the comic geniuses at my favorite faux news service turned their laser beams on a novelist's worst fears with: "Author Promoting Book Gives It Her All Whether It's Just 3 People or a Crowd of 9 People."
All effective humor is based in truth, right?
Even the best laid plans are not infallible. You may have done everything right: publicized your event, invited your friends and shown up on time. But sometimes fate has other plans. I can only imagine how many carefully planned author events were foiled this weekend by Hurricane Irene.
Last winter a bookstore events manager in northern Massachusetts invited me to do an event for Ski House Cookbook at her store. Of course I said yes, even though this lovely independent bookstores was more than two hours away, and even though it would require my cooking a a hot meal for the crowd to taste. But I believe in saying yes to lovely independent bookstores whenever possible.
But the night before the event, as I tossed paprika, cayenne pepper and brown sugar together for a dry rub, it began to snow. By the next morning, as I set a giant piece of pork shoulder into the slow cooker, there were twelve new inches of snow on the ground. All morning the pork filled my house with tantalizing smells while the snow continued to fall. I thought the event would be cancelled.
But the snow stopped by 3pm, just as I loaded 7 pounds of Spicy Pulled Pork (page 127!) into the back of my car and hit the road, my husband at my side. As we drew closer to the store, the snow banks grew even higher. I turned to my husband and said “this is going to be a disaster, right? Nobody will come out in this weather.”
"More pulled pork for me," was his only comment.
As I arrived with my vat of meat, there was a man standing at the counter, buying my book. I put down the crock pot and signed it for him. And the events manager was a super person, as I knew she would be. The store was adorable—with a crackling fire, serving plates and a tablecloth all set up and ready. The store was perfect, but it was also empty. The bell tinkled on the door as my customer departed, leaving no others in the shop except my own husband. As the time drew nearer, I signed piles of my book—piles as high as the snowdrifts outside—and tried not to worry about it. My one friend in the area called the store to say she couldn't dig out her car in time to make the drive.
At 7pm, five people turned up to sit on folding chairs and listen. I put on my apron and my game face. And I pulled pork while talking about spice rubs, food photography and recipe testing. Of course it was fun. Who wouldn't enjoy the chance to play the expert? And while I talked and took questions, one more woman ran through the door and sat down. She had my book in her lap. When I happened to mention something about the White Chicken Chili (page 124) she spoke up. “I made that dish tonight. In fact, while I made it my husband was reading the newspaper. He said ‘look honey! You can meet the author if you want to.’ So here I am. I cook from this book all the time. And I’m not a cook. I hate to cook. But I really love your book.”
And there it was—that one person who made the whole effort worthwhile.
Even though the events manager was disappointed by the turnout, even though the visit had required over four hours of cooking and driving, and even though my husband spent more on the books he bought at that store than I could ever hope to make on it, it wasn't a waste of time.
As we cleaned up afterwards, the events manager thanked me for coming and added “and we will sell these books for you. I promise.”
And she did. The Boston region was at the tippy top of my Bookscan numbers for an entire month. Even though the bookstore's clientele were kept indoors on the one night I thought I needed them, hundreds received emails about my book, and dozens ended up buying it.
Your effort always matters, even when the sun ducks behind the darkest clouds.
Bonus: my husband did, in fact, enjoy an oversized portion of pulled pork.
This post originally appeared on Blurb is a Verb, the blog devoted entirely to issues of book publicity and marketing.
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Thank you, ladies! A little perspective goes a long way.
Very true post. I had a friend that had to cancel his book launch party in North Carolina last Saturday due to Irene. Here's hoping he'll get good weather for the rescheduled time. Thanks for reminding us that flexibility is important in book promotions.
Thoroughly enjoyed this post - all the best to you!
Having just returned from a book tour, fortunately outside of the path of Hurricane Irene, I really appreciated your post. I had a similar experience: quality of encounters beats quantity. And friends of authors, remember, if you can't get to the signing, you can still buy the book--and support your local bookstore!
A good story, well told. I will never forgive myself for missing a friend's reading years ago. I don't remember why I couldn't make it but it was in Los Angeles so it wasn't a blizzard. I should have fought my way to the store no matter what.