Truth in shopping

The holidays are upon us. How do I know?

Because I saw this in Albertson's Supermarket tonight:

"Screw the diet. Mama wants chocolate."

And now, a word from our sponsor

I need to tell you all what a wonderful time I had last weekend, but I fear I must proselytize first. But don't be afraid - it has a little something to do with books, in a roundabout way.

This past Friday night, my son's choir sang the National Anthem at the L.A. Galaxy's soccer game. It was a very important game; as the Major Soccer League Western Conference Finals, it would be televised on ESPN2.

My son is actually in three choirs at school - this is the VHS Vocal Jazz choir, an audition only group. He auditioned for them as a freshman and didn't get in, then worked his butt off to get in as a sophomore, and has been a part of the group ever since. Here's a video of last year's crew (Sonny Boy is the 2nd soloist):



Many of the kids graduated, so this year is populated by new recruits, all strong singers, and all inexperienced at performing in front of 25,000 people, PLUS knowing it will be televised to who-knows-how-many soccer fans (not to mention friends and family across the country).

As the choir booster club president, I helped with tickets, chauffeured the kids to the game, and helped out where the choir director needed me. As a repayment, I got to go down on the soccer field and watch the sound check. (Side note: That field is ENORMOUS.)

I told kids not to expect too much from the televised aspect of their performance. Having watched plenty of sports events with my hubby, I know the cameras do not caress the singer's face for the whole song. They pan the crowd, the players, and sometimes even the flag.

I also know how distressing a TV appearance can be. When I was a flying angel at the Crystal Cathedral's Glory of Christmas, the local news interviewed me. I raced home to see my snippet and was appalled. I realize I have fairly large teeth, but they seemed to leap out of my mouth at the camera with every word I spoke. Actually, it reminded me of someone...

But I digress.

Back at the soccer field, the kids were excited. They were nervous. When it came time to sing, they were magnificent. Their voices rose, strong and reverent, as fireworks went off behind them. It was a great moment.

It also wasn't televised. ESPN2 decided to cut to commercial, rather than show the singing of the National Anthem.

I wasn't disappointed, except to feel badly for the kids who had told Grandma to tune in at 8:00 p.m. But it nagged at me, for another reason.

This game was on November 13th, two days after Veteran's Day. Two days after we've trotted out our Sunday finest to honor the men and women who fought for their country and lived to tell the tale. Two days after our neighborhoods hoisted their flags and held ceremonies.

Two days later and a national TV channel (owned by Disney, I believe) cannot be bothered to display a couple of minutes of patriotism if it means one less commercial spot. For all their millions, they'd still rather have the money.

No, I'm not surprised, but color me disgusted.

What does this have to do with books? It has a lot to do with the marketing, I think. If I were in the MLS public relations department, I'd be demanding that the National Anthem be televised at any MLS broadcast. Why?

Because soccer is not perceived as an American sport. It's regional, at best, for kids. We live in California, so my son played it, from the time he was six until this year. By contrast, it wasn't really an offering for my brother's kids in Illinois - they were more about baseball and basketball. If the Major Soccer League wants to increase its visibility, its attendance at games, its viewers on TV, and ultimately its revenues, it needs to hook into the American consciousness.

One way I'd think they could do this is to market soccer as an American sport. The subliminal message of hearing the National Anthem prior to a soccer game is just one way to start turning the public's mind around, as in, "Hey, Martha, guess what? Americans play soccer!"

Oh, and maybe stop hiring these guys. They may be good, but the country will rally behind home-grown talent before they warm up to the European blood.

So the good thing about Friday night was, I began to think about marketing on more levels. I use the internet, both in direct selling and social networking. At bookstores and festivals, etc, I can hand sell books fairly easily. But what am I missing? What little piece of my novel could be used to sell books? What can I use to reach a more global market?

What about you? If you're an author, what are you using to market your books? If you're a reader, what kind of marketing makes you go out and buy? Even better, what kind of campaign makes you run away?

Down thru the chimney with good Saint...

Okay, I don't know if he's a saint or not, but Nick Valentino is on a whirlwind tour this month to promote his novel, Thomas Riley. Before I met Nick, I had never heard of Steampunk, and now... well, I've heard of it. Seriously, it sounds like a wonderful new genre that I've barely scratched the surface learning and I'd love to jump into all the layers.

Here today, Nick is going to give you all a hint of what Steampunk is all about, along with some of his observations about what it's like to be a published writer in the 21st Century:

* * * * * * * * * * *

The Extra Twenty Miles

The bane of every writer is the idea that they have to promote their own book. At writer’s conferences, when promoting your work is brought up a huge collective groan rumbles through the audience. We all want to just write… right?

Being a writer without a huge Little Brown contract leaves all of us in the dilemma of promoting your own work. So there’s, book signings, conferences, travel, bank accounts, shipping, print ads, online ads, out of the box promotion, air fare, wardrobe, taxis, banners, flyers, photo shoots, social networking, maintaining a blog (or three), postcards, book marks, stickers, buttons, packing materials, blog touring, contacting bookstores, expense breakdowns, planning meetings, Paypal, pre-orders, posters, websites, con registrations, hotel reservations, contests, wholesale orders, returned books, book reviews and sending review copies… Had enough? That doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.

Here I am in the middle of my thirty day blog tour, day seventeen to be exact, and I can tell you this. I’m pretty darned overwhelmed. Keep in mind I like doing a lot of this stuff, so life could be worse. I could be digging ditches in the rain somewhere right? I enjoy making things happen and actually seeing a tangible product when you’re done with each little goal. The problem lies in the fact that there is often simply too much to handle. I have friends and family helping and it’s still not enough.

I promise, I’m not complaining. I’m just trying to say that writing is never just writing. In order to get noticed amongst the other hundred thousand books that were released this year, you the author have to go the extra twenty miles. Nope, one mile isn’t close to enough.

When I was finished writing my Steampunk (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steampunk) novel, Thomas Riley, the work had really just begun. I had all of these grand plans for promoting the book, and I’m making those happen now, but it’s so easy to get caught up in one aspect of promotion. For instance, I’ve been breaking my days up into individual goals. Friday I created new “@sirthomasriley.com” emails. I contacted about ten cons around the country and I lined up promotional models to appear at the cons. Monday I created a definitive list with prices and priorities of cons. Tuesday I made a back log of expenses and finalized my company bank account for book sales. It’s hardly the stereotype of a writer, right?

Obviously the most important part of being an author is the writing, but I have to say that your chances of really spreading the word about your book are pretty slim unless you make promoting said book a way of life. I’m like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde… No more like Professor Nerdy and Mr. Hollywood PR Guy.

From all this hard work, comes my obsession, my passion and my first novel, Thomas Riley. I only gave you a Wiki website with the explaining what Steampunk is, but think of it this way: Chill 1 part Jules Verne, mix with two parts Indiana Jones, add a mixer of H.G. Wells and for flavor twist in a little Frankenstein.

Thomas Riley Blurb:

For more than twenty years West Canvia and Lemuria have been at war. From the safety of his laboratory, weapons designer Thomas Riley has cleverly and proudly empowered the West Canvian forces. But when a risky alchemy experiment goes horribly wrong, Thomas and his wily assistant Cynthia Bassett are thrust onto the front lines of battle and forced into shaky alliances with murderous sky pirates in a deadly race to kidnap the only man who can undo the damage: the mad genius behind Lemuria's cunning armaments.

Find out more at:
http://sirthomasriley.com/

You can purchase signed copies at:
http://thomasriley.bigcartel.com/

or
http://www.echelonpress.com/

* * * * * * * * * * *
Thanks, Nick!

Hooked on Classics worked for me

Although I'm not officially enrolled in NaNoWriMo, I'm trying to keep a schedule this month and write at least 1,000 words a day. I think the contest's goal is 2,000 words a day, but I need to keep a goal I think I can honestly reach. I'm 10,000 words into the second book in my Peri Minneopa series, and I've been having some personal motivation problems. If I have 40,000 words by the end of the month, I could call it progress.

That being said, something's burning holes in the creative landscape of my brain, so I'm going to have to stop writing that scene where Skip is interviewing a possible suspect while Peri lays in the bushes of the Alta Vista Country Club, having been knocked out by a blow from a golf club, and then…

Anyway, I've been thinking about literary fiction in general, and the classics in particular. Until I married Dale, I had been hooked on classics. If it wasn't at least 50 years old, I didn't want to read it. My book shelves are filled with Dickens, Nabokov, Steinbeck, Cather. Oh, sure, I indulged in pulp fiction, but it had to be from a time gone by - Edgar Rice Burroughs, Zane Grey, Raymond Chandler. Dale got me into reading Dean Koontz, but that's another post.

Now this is coming back to bite me, as I race through all the mystery writers I missed, because if one more person says, "Oh, you've got to come, So-and-So will be there with a new book," and I have to resort to Google to find out how famous So-and-So is, I'm going to hit myself in the head with a rock.

But I still love the old stuff, and I especially love the resurgence of the oldies by way of the macabre twists. I bought Pride and Prejudice and Zombies just to read for Halloween. If I like it, I may have to read Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters.

As a writer, I want to get into the act. So, ladies and gentlemen, for your enjoyment, may I present:

Of Mice and Menopause
by Gayle Carline

"Where we goin', Georgia?"

The sweaty woman jerked down the hem of her sticky blouse and scowled at Lennie. "So you forgot that awready, did you? I gotta tell you again, do I? Jesus Christ, you're a crazy bastard!"

"I forgot," Lennie said softly. "I tried not to forget. Honest I did, Georgia."

"OK - OK. I'll tell ya again. I ain't got nothing to do. Might jus' as well spen' all my time tellin' you things and then you forget 'em, and I tell you again."

"Tried and tried," said Lennie. "but it didn't do no good. I remember about the rabbits, Georgia."

"To hell with the rabbits. That's all you ever can remember is them rabbits." And then Georgia took out her gun and shot Lennie, because he should've known better than to annoy her in the middle of a hot flash.

The End.

Author's postscript: This is in no way an endorsement of violence just because you're uncomfortable, nor is it an indictment of women over a certain age who are apt to find themselves a little cranky over the fact that someone has set their internal organs on fire. It's just fiction, people.

Okay, now I can get back to work.

The view from the Border(s)

Borders Books in Brea - I've hit the big time!

I had my first FREEZER BURN signing at a Big Box o' Books yesterday. It was an interesting experience, although, I've noticed lately that I don't ever have boring experiences. But I digress…

It may be my first large-scale signing, but I think I learned a few things, things I'd like to pass on to others.

1. You Will Never Be Prepared Enough, and It Will Not Always Be Your Fault.

Even though I gave the staff promotional material, and even though I stopped by the store twice to verify that everything was ready, when I got there on Sunday, it was almost all for naught. The good news is, they had 20 copies of my book. The bad news is, I had met with two different floor managers, neither of which was on duty that day. They had relayed the information to this manager (a darling young man named Spenser) that I would be there someday at sometime.

"We have your stuff," he explained. "But nobody told me you'd be here today."

He set up a table and brought out books and was ever so charming about whether I needed anything else, and a little apologetic that he didn't have a clue where my promo material might be. Fortunately, I had a copy of the flyer in my car and he provided an easel for it.

Lesson: Bring EVERYTHING.

2. Location Is Important.

They set the table up in the middle of the store, behind the 50% Off racks. This made it difficult to greet customers. If I stood by the table, people took alternate paths to avoid me. As a matter of fact, they maneuvered quicker than a tight end running for the touchdown. If anyone was brave enough to walk toward me, they didn't seem to "connect" me with my books on the table - my books with my flyer with my picture on it.

When I sat down, I got better results. People were curious about me, sitting at a table in the middle of the bookstore, and I was able to engage them in conversation.

In hindsight, I should have asked Spenser if we could move my table up to the front door. I didn't because I didn't want to seem like a diva.

Lesson: Sometimes it's okay to be the diva.

3. People Buy Books in Inverse Proportion to How Much They Talk.

Several people came up and asked me about my book, talked to me at length about books in general, the writing process, and even my days as a software engineer. None of these people bought my book. Not only that, but I knew they weren't going to buy it. It's just one of those things, like a sixth sense. The Salesgirl in me wanted to (gently) shuffle them off. The Curious Person in me wanted to hear their stories. The Soft Heart in me didn't want them to feel discarded. By a vote of two-to-one, the Salesgirl lost.

Lesson: Tell the Salesgirl to shut up and listen.

4. Life is Sometimes a Pleasant Surprise.

Of the two floor managers I spoke to, one of them was very friendly, always laughing and easy to talk to. The other manager was, well, not. She had a reserved nature, very cautious, and always a serious expression on her face. Some might call it dour. When it was nearly closing time and I had sold 16 of my 20 books, I asked the clerk what else they needed me to do and he called up the manager who had just come on duty.

The dour one.

I held my breath, anxious that she'd tell me they were shipping the last four copies back to Ingram's tomorrow. She came over to the table and said, "Wow, you sold quite a bit."

"Well, all but these four," I replied. "So… what will happen to these?"

"We'll keep them on the shelves for at least a couple of weeks. If they don't sell, we'll send them back." She picked up the books. "You did really well, though. Some authors don't sell any."

I couldn't believe it. "How is that possible?"

"If they're not very personable and don't talk to people, they don't sell, even if they're fairly well known. But you did great."

And then… she smiled. She even laughed a little as she thanked me. We're buds now.

Lesson: Do your job, be pleasant, and you never know what rewards you may reap.

This Friday, I'm at Barnes & Noble in Fullerton. Wish me luck!