Thursday, August 10, 2006

The David and Goliath Battle: Little Writer, Super Chain, and the Danger of the Mr. Smith Mentality

I either need a bigger slingshot or a much more winsome personality. I was told, when I became a published writer, that people would be eager to work with me to arrange signings. I was told my home town, especially, would welcome my success and do all it could to help promote this "local author" and her new novel. When I went out into the world, as sweet and unsuspecting as Mr. Smith when he went to Washington, I found that a lot of that was not true.

For example, my town librarians could not have cared less. I stopped in, pleasant as could be, to drop off ARC copies and ask about possible speaking engagements. I couldn't even get a "congratulations" out of them. The woman behind the desk looked slightly annoyed that I had taken her from her computer, but she took my book and handed me a card with the name of a woman who handled those things. So I left a note for her. Then called her and left a message. Then e-mailed her. With each communication I was unerringly polite. I heard from her, finally, about a month later, in a terse e-mail that said nothing about my book, merely asked me to provide dates when I would be available. All of these interactions were as chilly as a meat locker. I was starting to understand why some writers fear to tread these mean streets.

But I persisted. A huge book conglomerate in my town (which happened to carry my book) seemed like the next logical choice. I approached the manager, smiling (and yes, I had combed my hair and brushed my teeth). I mentioned that I had written that book, the one shelved near The Davinci Code. I was wondering, since all of my friends and family in this town would be eager to come to a signing, if they could host one on behalf of a local author. The manager shrugged apologetically. "We don't make those decisions," he said. "You'd have to go through Corporate." NO, I thought. NOT THE DREADED CORPORATE! It's like hearing that you have to fight an anaconda.

"Corporate?" I mewed. "But on your website it says all I have to do is approach the manager at my local store!"

"Yeah, it shouldn't say that on there," he said, obviously not well-versed in the contents of the company site. "You still have to go through corporate."

So I called Corporate. Left a message, bright as a sunbeam, trying to sound professional yet brief yet not so brief that I didn't provide enough information. And I waited. Spring turned to summer. The trees grew thick green leaves and the days grew hotter. CORPORATE must have had some kind of book emergency, I thought. Then again, my own library liason had taken a month, and she wasn't thrilled when she did get back to me. When the Goliath known as Corporate finally sent an e-mail, it said, "We can't even consider a signing until we see a copy of your book."

Now, my publicist had sent the book to them months before, but I told him of the mandate in the e-mail, and he said he would send out another one. Time passed. Corporate said nothing. I ventured another e-mail, indicating that the book seemed to be selling well locally, and I would love the opportunity to do a signing. No response for another couple of weeks. Then, finally, the long-awaited e-mail came, and it said, "Thanks for your interest. I will be sure to look at your book at my earliest convenience."

This is what is known, to me and Mr. Smith, as A LIE. Even my publicist advised me to "cut bait." So this was the hometown welcome I received--that, and the local newspaper which wasn't interested enough to run a story about the novel.

But here I must thank the wonderful independent bookstore owner in Forest Park Illinois: Augie Aleksy at Centuries and Sleuths was wonderful about arranging a signing, he treated me like royalty, HE READ MY BOOK, and he keeps my mystery stocked on his shelves.

In my silly revenge fantasies I, childishly, imagine that I will become famous just so that I can say no to Corporate, assuming they ever manifest an interest, and can tell the local library that I'll get back to them via e-mail. :)

Art Courtesy of http://www.dealydaily.com/images/david_goliath.jpg

7 comments:

Bill Cameron said...

And, of course, when you become famous, you'll be even less likely to say no to Corporate, because you'll have a great big fat contract with stipulations about your publicity, including many smiling appearances at bookstores controlled by Corporate.

I can't wait for my turn!

Julia Buckley said...

Bill, how sweet and optimistic of you to say "WHEN" I become famous. Now I will definitely send you the giant DB cutout that opens beers.

Bill Cameron said...

I'm surprised you're not famous already.

Julia Buckley said...

If you'd be my publicist, I would be. How about it?

Bill Cameron said...

I was talking about you at the bookstore this evening. They didn't have your book in stock, and I scolded them. But in a very nice way. They said they'd had several copies, but had sold them. (I thought that was a good thing.) Then another woman there said she'd read DB and recommended it, and the book store owner said she'd order more.

I am dreaming of the beer openings already. :D

Julia Buckley said...

Now that is nice to hear. I always have visions of none of them selling at all, and those are terrifying visions. Would you consider visiting all the bookstores in Portland? :)

Julia Buckley said...

Yeah, Augie is great. And it's a tough battle with those big stores, because they really don't care whether or not your book is good.