I Wrote This

Nothing beats the thrill of holding in your hands for the very first time a copy of your first published book. To see your name on the cover, to smell the ink on paper, and feel the binding across the spine, are feelings akin to giving birth.  You labored and fretted over what you put to paper; nurturing it and feeding it regularly making sure that it looked and felt just the way you wanted it so when it was time for you to show it to the world, you hoped you had done a good job.

“Look at that” you can preen proudly.  “I wrote this book.”  And then you hope they think you are wonderful and that they will buy it.

Of course, that’s only the beginning of the story.

You may have written the thing; now you have to sell it.

Authors like me are small time and know it.  I don’t have the financial backing of a Simon & Shuster or receive an advance on the sale of my manuscript to Penguin.  I don’t have the drawing power of Stephen King, or even Larry King, for that matter.  But I know who my audience is, and it is them for whom I write.   I find them at the local bookstores, the markets and the little shops along the roadways, in little towns and hamlets tucked away from the rest of the world.  They are you and your friends, your siblings, your grandkids and your parents.  Your worst enemy and your co worker – they read my books and I recognize them all the time.

They are part of my America.

I am a brand, and every day brings new challenges to learn new ways to promote myself, as well as my books.  Television, print and radio interviews certainly help, but it is the face-to-face contact with people who read my books that will eventually help me build what I want my brand to look like.   Whether it be the face of a grandmother or a toddler, the eyes into which I look when I say “thanks for buying my book” are part of why I write what I write.  They are people just like me and who relate to what I have written.

The bigger chains like Barnes & Noble, Borders and online giants like Amazon, are all good ways to promote my books, of course.  But that is a whole other animal, and I recognized long ago for it for what it is.  They are a business, and need to make a profit if they “book” me, no pun intended.  The larger chains that have held books signings for me in the past are wary and will only purchase 20 copies at a time, with the hope that I will sell 10.  Fortunately, I have always sold all the copies.

But there’s something about the small bookstores of my America that draws me back to them, again and again.  The mom and pop operations, long thought to be dead and gone, are still there.  They thrive along the roads of many small towns, where people like to read and share what they feel about issues.  They look for similarities in their own lives and perhaps, what they can learn from another’s.

They all have their own personalities, but the variables are all the same.  Small, with storefronts boasting the newest author of the week, and what is on sale.  When you enter the store, the rooms are somewhat choppy and misshapen, with a new hallway added as if an afterthought to take you down to still another hallway, another direction.   Many of them smell like bookstores, and most of them have books stacked from ceiling to floor.   The bathrooms are always hidden behind a screen or stacks of books.  One room with a toilet, a door, a sink and toilet tissues stacked above a cabinet over the sink.  They are old, but they are always clean.  Always.

Further into the store, there are always comfortable overstuffed, high back chairs, the smell of coffee permeating the room.  Nearby end tables and coffee tables hold real ceramic coffee cups and remnant coffee rings may have stained them.  The reader has been there awhile and has enjoyed what he or she is reading, even letting their coffee grow cold.

I had a book signing today in family owned bookstore, and I realized that I would miss this place as well as the owner.  She reminded me of what its like to own a bookstore and why they do.  They are not in it for the money – it is for the love of books, story telling, reading, and the people who enter there.

I will be traveling out west with my husband soon, loading up an RV and making our way across America.  I hope to write about our journey and the people we meet along the way.  I hope we have time to stop in some local bookstores, shake the hand of the owner and offer my books for sale.  Maybe someday I can return to see them again.

But even I never see them, I will have done what I have set out to do.  I hope that I have touched them with my words, and shared what was dear to me.

Although my move west is tinged with sadness, I am excited to be traveling across this great country to see who’s out there.  I hope to sell them a book, just by smiling and saying “See this book?  I wrote this.”

Hope to see you soon!