It Sure Can Get Cold in Des Moines
November 6th, 2008by Amy Shearn
BROOKLYN, NY –
As far as I can tell every writer has a book reading war story or two, wherein one travels 10 hours through blizzards or cross-country on a full-fare plane ticket in order to read to a snoozing hobo and a handful of bookstore employees. Perhaps this is what my publishers had in mind when I asked about giving readings in support of my first novel and they responded, “Eh, we don’t really do that so much.” For nobodies like me, is what they meant. I happen to know that in the weeks before my book came out my publicist was absolutely slammed with managing Pat Buchanan’s book tour. What does Pat Buchanan have that I don’t? This is not the first time I’ve asked myself this question.
Nonetheless, as someone who enjoys going to readings, it seemed an important part of having a book out. I think I wanted to feel like something was happening. A wise woman I know once described the time before one’s book comes out as “the calm before the calm.” This is very accurate. While it is abstractly incredibly exciting, not much changes in your day-to-day life once the book has made its earth-shattering debut into the previously placid waters of the literary community, other than a marked increase in self-googling. Anticipating this, I decided to set up a few readings for myself anyway.
And most of them have been wonderful. A book-launch reading at a charming Brooklyn bookstore was packed with friends, coworkers, former coworkers, neighbors, and perhaps even a stranger or two. Readings in Chicago brought out family, long-lost friends, and high school English teachers. A recent mini-tour in the Midwest included generous and kind audiences in Iowa City and Minneapolis. I’ll admit it — I was riding high. And then I went to Des Moines.
Now, I had never really thought Des Moines would be a big winner. I don’t even know anyone there other than my sweet in-laws. But the local Barnes and Noble was excited to have me, and I had no real reason to say no.
Which is how I became the loneliest writer in The Shoppes at Three Fountains.
I should have known something was up when we (me, my husband, and his parents) parked in the shopping center’s spacious lot and strolled into the cavernous, largely empty store. Directly to the right of the entryway was a long folding table, stacked high with more copies of my book than I’ve ever seen in one place. We greeted each other nervously, the books and I, like cousins at a family reunion. And that was it. No microphone. No chairs. “I’m so sorry but I have to run in a minute,” said the events manager I’d set everything up with. “Our people don’t really seem to be into readings, so we just set up a signing.”
“Oh,” I said, enjoying my free bottle of water. And who says the writer’s life isn’t glamorous! “Okay.”
Reading to the void would have been one thing. I mean, at least I could have entertained my husband’s family and a curious passerby or two. But a signing! A signing indicates commitment, as the wary customers seemed to realize. A signing means someone buying a $25 hardcover novel by some girl they’ve never heard of in the midst of an economic downturn. I settled down into my chair, dwarfed by towers of book on either side, and tried to look approachable.
A man in a suit stopped near the table. “Oh, hello!” I trilled.
He nodded towards the events manager. “I’m just waiting for my wife.”
I watched people saunter by, often speeding up when moving past my table. A large couple squeezed into dress clothes canoodled on the escalator up to the magazines section. An excessively blonde family of four tumbled in the door, making a beeline to the café. Once my husband tried adding a few boxes of magic tricks (which were shelved nearby) to my table, but the good people of Des Moines wouldn’t bite. Not a one of them. Not even the bookstore employees, who seemed on the whole to be a bit agoraphobic.
Okay, to be fair, I did sell two books — to my in-laws’ neighbors, with whom I now feel a strong kinship, not unlike how when someone saves your life you are bound together for all time. I can only hope that the Weavers are prepared for my everlasting devotion. I am planning to serve as their future grandchildrens’ godmother, whether or not I am asked.
A half-hour later, now giggling a bit maniacally, I signed an inappropriate percentage of the copious stock (rendering them unreturnable) before making a beeline for my father-in-law’s gleaming Honda.
And then I wrote this song.
Tags: Add new tag, book readings
Come read in Toronto this winter! You can pretend its a Des Moines re-do…it’ll be as cold as Iowa, at least as snowy, and you’ll have to drive far to get here. Only, there will be loads of people staring at you expectantly from our seats, as you crack the spine on your book and begin to read us the adventures of Frankie et al.
(and this time, you won’t have to traverse the Pride Day parade in order to reach your bed-and-breakfast)
: )
Oh dear… I worked in Indianola, Iowa one summer - about 20 minutes south of Des Moines, in a microscopic college town nestled in the heart of Madison County and right about the time that that little book about their bridges was such a sensation.
Except that I don’t think a single person in the town even knew that there was a book about them, let alone a movie deal with Meryl and Clint.
Seriously.
Maybe next time you should wear your red robe. I bet more people will stop and say hello.
Oh, you might be on to something there. Nothing but the red bathrobe. Maybe I’ll try that this weekend in Ithaca!
I think she’s on to some thing there… that is just the eccentric touch you need. I’d stop and at least stare for a bit… lol
Yep, I’ve been to readings of this nature where the events were set up by big houses like Simon & Schuster, had been listed as critics picks in all the local weeklies, and the writer had previous books out . . . and STILL only 2 people (myself being one of them) showed up. Indeed, this is the kind of war story all writers have to tell. But your publisher should be kind of ashamed at not encouraging you to persevere anyway! Writers need to get out there and read across the country–it encourages media coverage like profiles and reviews, and gets your name promoted inside the store, which can increase sales even when you’ve already left the town. Good for you for having the gumption to do it yourself!
Thank you!! If there’s one thing writers like, it’s encouragement.
Oh dear…is this what I’m working so hard towards? A free bottle of water? Oh, Amy - thank you for laying it out so straight for me here. And yet - ah, who am I kidding? I think that by nature we writers are sadists. What’s a little more pain and lack of recognition at the end of a long tunnel already filled with, well, pain and lack of recognition? Tally ho!
(OK - I realize I’m being completely ridiculous here, but it *is* Friday night and I am home reading the TNB.)
So…how’s your pregnancy coming along?
Good to read you, as always.
Thank heaven for your in-laws neighbors!
I think it was the cold. I lived in Iowa City one year that was particularly cold and I was really afraid my eyes would freeze and shatter.
They should have let you read! People will gather to hear a good story.
Next time, start reading regardless of what they say. Who do they think they are, anyway?
Amy-
I got physically anxious while reading this. I have very ambivalent feelings about live readings. If you’re a true performer, fantastic. A poet, etc. Go for it. Absolutely. Some things are meant to be read aloud and clearly some people are better at it than others.
But for me personally, reading aloud from my own novel is always nerve-wracking in the extreme. I can’t help but feel absurd. Seems sort of like masturbating in public or something. Every time someone asks me to do it, I say yes, because I’ve been programmed by my agent and by the demands of the modern marketplace to never turn down the opportunity to get the word out about my book. But every time it happens, I go through a period of incredible nervousness and tension in the hours leading up to the reading. And it’s not like I’m a shy person. I’m sociable. Outgoing. I teach. I speak in front of large groups all the time. I guess in the end it has something to do with reading aloud from my own book in public. It seems unnatural to me. I can’t help but feel that I’m boring the shit out of people. Books are meant to be enjoyed alone, in silence, in private. Reading is such a reclusive thing for me, as is writing. Plus, I have a terribly short attention span, and I think I project it onto others in the context of my own readings. I automatically assume that everyone has as much trouble sitting still and listening to me read out loud from my own book as I do when listening to other people. Or something like that.
Anyway. I’m probably in the minority here. I’ve been told that I have extreme views.
Glad you survived Des Moines.
-BL
Ha! Yes, I also assume everyone is bored and starting to daydream after about 10 minutes, as I know I sometimes do at readings. So I try to keep them short. But the thing is, when they’re good, they’re really good! It’s like teaching. When it’s bad, you feel depleted and terrible. And when it goes well, you get this crazy burst of energy and inspiration and excitement — or at least I do. For example, I did a reading this weekend that was modestly but decently attended, and it was just wonderful. The people who were there seemed really into it and most stayed afterwards just to sit around and chat and the whole thing made me like my book more than I had before and was just so energizing and thrilling. You meet one person who loves your book and wants to reach out to you and it reminds you of why you wanted to be a writer in the first place. Thinking of your readers as actual people is very humbling and exciting.
And Erika Rae — it’s going well, thanks! And don’t discount the value of free water. Water’s expensive these days!
And Irene — Iowa is nothing. I lived in Minnesota for 3 years, and let me just tell you — the enamel on your teeth literally cracks, it gets so cold in the winter. It’s barbaric!!
Oh my God, Amy! Thanks for the warning! I will never set foot in Minnesota after summertime.
I’ve read enough of these loneliest writer’s book signing tales enough to know that when my book comes out I’m going to boycott readings all together and after this tale I’m boycotting book signings also… in fact, I think I’m going to boycott writing books altogether.
Whew! I feel relieved already.
Keep at it sugar. There may be riotous crowds in your future. Let me know if you ever come to Seattle. I’ll be there with bells on! xo
I can totally relate, Amy! I think the first sparsely attended reading is the hardest. And from then on if there are at least one or two people you don’t know in the audience, it’s a huge success.
I think the key is not speaking in bookstores and speaking in front of groups like college groups. Because they often offer free food, so there’s a greater possibility someone will show up. No, really, college groups are great.