As an author, you can’t be everything to everyone — unless you have a fog machine

image Regular readers of this blog know my weekly Nickel’s Worth on Writing is when I utilize my 15 years as a columnist to offer writing insights that famed author John Grisham recently heralded as “…where I found inspiration for many of my most memorable characters, particularly those who die in the first chapter.”

Or as Fifty Shades author E.L. James called it, “Writing advice that exemplifies the reason some authors need a good spanking.”

But enough accolades!

As some of you know, I attended my first book fair last weekend as an author. Today, I’m going to share that experience in a post I’m calling:

Reasons to Hide Liquor Under Your Book Fair Table

Admittedly, it’s very exciting to walk into a room of 50 or so booths with publishers and authors offering their latest releases and services. And when you see your own booth tucked among them, with your book cover on display and a large photo of yourself hanging on the wall behind your table, you can’t help but pause and quietly think: I have arrived as an author and, judging by its size, my nose arrived about an hour before I did. My point is that book fairs are about taking the opportunity to become three-dimensional to readers and making a connection beyond the printed page; it’s about revealing yourself to people in ways that are spontaneous, real and unrehearsed, and giving them an experience they can take with them and talk about with others. This led to another realization almost simultaneously: Why is there no liquor at this thing?

This notion was underscored moments later, when a woman appearing to be in her mid-60s approached my booth and began telling me how much she loved my writing, almost to the point it was becoming a little embarrassing. “I NEVER miss your column!” she declared. “Really — If it wasn’t for your column, I doubt I would even subscribe to The Register-Guard!”

In my mind, I began pouring two fingers into a shot glass. Why?

“Um, I write for Siuslaw News,” I said with an awkward smile. “I think you’re talking about Bob Welch. He’s got a table right over there.”

“…Oh… I see.”

In that moment, if there had been an actual shot glass on the table, I’m pretty sure she would have taken it from me, chugged it, wiped her lips with one of my bookmarks and gone to see Bob Welch. Instead, she stood immobilized and looking for a gracious exit.

“OK, actually I am Bob Welch,” I said. “I killed Ned Hickson and have assumed his identity to expand my writing empire. If you don’t tell anyone, you can help yourself to one of my books over there.” I pointed to Welch’s booth, which was unmanned but stacked with copies of My Oregon, Pebble in the Water and others. “If anyone asks, tell them Bob sent you,” I said, and winked.

The woman who I came to know as Joan, smiled. “So… who did you say you write for again?”

Those words led to my first pre-order of the day, and understanding the importance of meeting readers face-to-face, even if yours wasn’t the face they were looking for. During the course of six hours at my booth, I met lots of people who had no idea who I was, many of whom were drawn by my impressive display of non-bookness…

Hurry and sign up NOW for something that doesn't exist yet!
Hurry and sign up NOW for something that doesn’t exist yet!

Others were drawn — I believe — by my keen marketing strategy, which people either reacted to with a chuckle or with a look that said, Someone needs to let security know about you.

As you can imagine, the corners went very fast...
As you can imagine, the corners went very fast…

At first, when I saw that some people were definitely unamused by my scone offer, I began to question the wisdom of my marketing strategy. Was it just an act of desperation in order to compete with the zombie book guy across the isle, who had creepy music, flashing lights and a mini fog machine? Oh, and actual BOOKS? As I thought about this, a woman made her way to my booth and looked at my scone and shook her head.

“My husband was just here and told me about your scone,” she said. “We’re visiting from Arizona and our paper doesn’t carry your column. Is it anything like your scone offer?”

“I’d say it’s exactly like my scone offer,” I told her. “The humor in my column is very dry.”

As I watched her sign up for a copy, I began to see my scone as something more than just a cranberry-flavored marketing tool. It was also a barometer of sorts, instantly gaging people’s sense of humor. Those who didn’t get it because of their own internal high pressure system wouldn’t be happy with the book anyway. In that moment I stopped worrying about who did or didn’t stop by my booth; you can’t be everything to everyone.

At least, not without a mini fog machine.

When it came time to go to the “Authors Reading Area,” where I was supposed to read selected passages from the book, I was encouraged when I saw all the seats were filled! Some folks were even standing in the aisle! This feeling of elation was quickly followed by an even stronger feeling, which was the urge to vomit. This wasn’t from fear as much as it was from advice taken from The Brady Bunch regarding talking in front of a crowd, which is to picture everyone in their underwear. This doesn’t work when your mother is in the crowd. So I fixated on my wife instead, which worked well, except that I almost forgot about reading…

Once I stopped thinking about my wife in her underwear (or whatever), things went smoothly at my "Author Reading."
Once I stopped thinking about my wife in her underwear (or whatever), things went smoothly at my “Author Reading.”

I eventually got focused and read some of my favorite passages, picking up a few more pre-orders along the way — including one from the zombie guy, who came up afterward and told me I “knocked them dead.” High praise, considering the source.

Imagine what I could do with a fog machine…

Published by

Ned's Blog

I was a journalist, humor columnist, writer and editor at Siuslaw News for 23 years. The next chapter in my own writer’s journey is helping other writers prepare their manuscript for the road ahead. I'm married to the perfect woman, have four great kids, and a tenuous grip on my sanity...

50 thoughts on “As an author, you can’t be everything to everyone — unless you have a fog machine”

  1. Ned,

    High praise indeed, well done!

    Hey, was just wondering what the process might be to put in a pre-order myself…not sure if my requisite scone corner would make it through customs at this end though. Cheers REDdog

    1. Hey, thanks REDdog! Once the book hits the shelves in December, I’ll have a link for Amazon and other ways folks can order. And I’ll make sure to save a scone corner for you.

      Cheers back at you, my friend!

      1. Maybe I’m a bit too old school but…any chance I could get a signed hard copy sent over? Happy to cover all costs or whatever. I just like the idea I suppose.

  2. One wonders if Bob Welch returned with a fifth of vodka and a fog machine.

    (I recently wandered into a guitar store that had an electronics section and stood there for a good 20 minutes trying to justify the expense of a fog machine. It *was* way cool, but not as cool as your scone idea.)

    1. Hahaha! Bob Welch never showed, so I bet he took the fifth. Whether that’s the amendment or vodka, we’ll never know.

      And on another note, imagine the power of scones AND a fog machine! 😉

  3. Oh. Em. Gee. How dare that woman try to take over my groupie-ness title!!! You didn’t give her my T-Shirt did you???

    Other than that, it sounds like another successful Ned adventure. Good on you.Oh, and I also join the ranks who are signing up for the hard-cover copy. Don’t forget the T-Shirt. 🙂

    1. Of course! Although I’m toying with the idea of biscotti instead. It doesn’t natter how long they sit out because they’re already dried out and hard…

  4. i love your multi-pronged and cynergetic approach to marketing, if you can’t sell ’em by accident and embarrassment like the woman in her 60s, draw them in with food or entertainment, or find a new demographic, like the zombies. think this is how hemingway got his start i believe.

    1. Thanks, Beth! Until you put it that way, I hadn’t realize the true spectrum of my marketing skills. I’m thinking about adding a wet bar to my booth next year, which should only add to that scope. Which reminds me, I’ll need to keep some Scope under the table to gargle with between drinks…

  5. Hey, where does one go to preorder? Don’t make me read your blog to find out. Please.

    Oh, and you have the Brady Bunch thing mixed up. You are supposed to read your book in nothing but your underwear. Just ask your wife. She’ll agree with me.

  6. The scone bit is brilliant. It’s a great way of saying “if you don’t get it (the humor) then don’t get it (the book).” I get it. I think your book will be my Christmas present to myself this year.

  7. Reblogged this on Bookin' It and commented:
    This is one of my favorite blogs, and Ned’s December release of his book is written in big red letters on my calendar. It should be on yours, too! Check out this post and you’ll know why.

  8. What a perfect litmus test for the type of humor needed to appreciate you! Loved the scone, made my sick day! I guess that means I appreciate you. Kinda left handed, but you know what I mean.

  9. That is so awesome. Congrats on your first book fair! The scone idea was hilarious. What a great marketing tool to see if you’d get any bites on your book. I guess that makes it tasteful symbolism. 🙂

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