Will Write For Food
There’s been a noticeable increase in the number of people on my local intersections, holding signs with varying degrees of detail to encourage drivers passing by to spare some change. This isn’t a post about how disturbing it is that, in a year’s time, it’s gone from the same guy on one local corner to nearly half a dozen different people dispersed between three local roadways.
The land of opportunity?
Not so sure.
Nonetheless, these people standing there for hours on end, begging for any change someone will throw their way reminds me of what it’s like to have a book signing.
Please, don’t ride my back about how someone going hungry is nothing like me not getting any takers for my book. Because I don’t mean it literally, of course.
What I mean is - it amazes me that someone stands on a street corner for hours at a time in any kind of weather for change. Is the money they get worth it? Does it afford them a daily rate at some rundown motel? A hot meal? A hot dog from the Sev (11 that is)?
It can't be much.
Begging may not be a real "job," but I damn sure wouldn’t want to do it.
Then I realized, I sort of already do.
Sitting at a table with a smile frozen on my face, with my books beside me as my cardboard sign waiting on someone to consider a purchase feels like begging. More dignified than standing on a street corner, sure. But silently begging nonetheless.
For every person whose curiosity draws them to the table to skim the book, there are several others whose eyes skitter away quickly after making unintended contact with me, as they silently get their excuse together in case I actively wave them over.
Rest easy, fair customers, I'm not a "waver."
I'll smile at you, say "hello" if you're close enough. But I'll never flag you down.
I respect that you've come to the store with a specific purchase in mind and are weary of being haraunged. I won't chase you down quoting Publisher's Weekly, "Genuine dialogue! Contemporary friendship story!"
However, all bets are off if you approach the table!
Book signings are a testament to a writer's grace under pressure.
It's about...
How cool as a cucumber you can look as people walk by you as if you aren't there.
How long you can resist the urge to read a book or magazine or start your newest novel, instead of staying in the moment of the traffic going by.
How not to feel stripped and naked, even though it feels like a spotlight is on your little, lonely table.
Not nitpicking how the store could have done "so much more" to publicize the book instead of realizing that without the initials JK you're just one of the many books that day's customers can purchase on a whim.
Taking triumph in the fact that one, two or six more people who you were unknown to just minutes before, will give your book a good home.
Over the last four months, I've done a broad-base of book events. I've had two events where I sold dozens of books and at least one event where I sold over a dozen. But on average, I've sold about six books per event.
That's about one book every ten minutes...which is exactly how it's gone for me.
I don't scoff at selling six books.
Exposure is exposure.
Six is better than none.
And I bet that's exactly what someone on the street corner thinks.
The land of opportunity?
Not so sure.
Nonetheless, these people standing there for hours on end, begging for any change someone will throw their way reminds me of what it’s like to have a book signing.
Please, don’t ride my back about how someone going hungry is nothing like me not getting any takers for my book. Because I don’t mean it literally, of course.
What I mean is - it amazes me that someone stands on a street corner for hours at a time in any kind of weather for change. Is the money they get worth it? Does it afford them a daily rate at some rundown motel? A hot meal? A hot dog from the Sev (11 that is)?
It can't be much.
Begging may not be a real "job," but I damn sure wouldn’t want to do it.
Then I realized, I sort of already do.
Sitting at a table with a smile frozen on my face, with my books beside me as my cardboard sign waiting on someone to consider a purchase feels like begging. More dignified than standing on a street corner, sure. But silently begging nonetheless.
For every person whose curiosity draws them to the table to skim the book, there are several others whose eyes skitter away quickly after making unintended contact with me, as they silently get their excuse together in case I actively wave them over.
Rest easy, fair customers, I'm not a "waver."
I'll smile at you, say "hello" if you're close enough. But I'll never flag you down.
I respect that you've come to the store with a specific purchase in mind and are weary of being haraunged. I won't chase you down quoting Publisher's Weekly, "Genuine dialogue! Contemporary friendship story!"
However, all bets are off if you approach the table!
Book signings are a testament to a writer's grace under pressure.
It's about...
How cool as a cucumber you can look as people walk by you as if you aren't there.
How long you can resist the urge to read a book or magazine or start your newest novel, instead of staying in the moment of the traffic going by.
How not to feel stripped and naked, even though it feels like a spotlight is on your little, lonely table.
Not nitpicking how the store could have done "so much more" to publicize the book instead of realizing that without the initials JK you're just one of the many books that day's customers can purchase on a whim.
Taking triumph in the fact that one, two or six more people who you were unknown to just minutes before, will give your book a good home.
Over the last four months, I've done a broad-base of book events. I've had two events where I sold dozens of books and at least one event where I sold over a dozen. But on average, I've sold about six books per event.
That's about one book every ten minutes...which is exactly how it's gone for me.
I don't scoff at selling six books.
Exposure is exposure.
Six is better than none.
And I bet that's exactly what someone on the street corner thinks.
posted by Paula at 1:39 PM
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