Hey, There's A Dead Guy in the Living Room

Further travels on the path to figuring out what I like

        It's been almost a year and a half since I started blogging on Dead Guy but I recognize now that my exploration of the mystery genre can best be described as haphazard.   Rather than attempting a systematic sampling of the various subgenres, I more or less just jumped right in, picking books to read or listen to mostly based either on their availability in my library, author name recognition or, to a lesser extent, reviews and word of mouth; this is not unlike the way many of my library patrons go about choosing what books they're going to read or listen to next.   The problem with this approach was that I encountered a disproportionate number of books that I wasn't crazy about   early on which caused me to draw the premature conclusion that I really wasn't cut out to be a reader of crime fiction.

        Fortunately, I have had time on my side.  Although the mystery novels I  have read or listened to and  which I  did not care for tended to annoy the hell out of me, I  have also encountered enough  good crime fiction that I think I now have a pretty good sense of what is going to appeal to me:

1.    Protagonists who are female, work in law enforcement and who are not extremely beautiful, rich or quirky - in other words, people who have the characteristics of actual people who I might come across in real life.    I don't like reading about someone who is  so fabulous that it just makes me feel bad about myself.

2.    A focus on forensic details plays into my real life curiosity about police work and how evidence is used to solve crimes.

3.    Since my taste in general fiction tends toward the dark anyway, it's not surprising that I gravitate toward stories that are set in ghetto neighborhoods  rather than on cruise ships, mansions or any place else where the rich and famous congregate.

4.    The author must do a superior job of plotting the mystery - if not, I am going to feel let down no matter how much I enjoyed enjoyed the setting, characters, or the author's use of language.

 5.       I  enjoy stories that  shine a light on the fact that police work, like most other jobs, requires that people deal with coworkers and supervisors who may either unwittingly or deliberately stand in the way of getting the job done properly.

            Which brings me to 206 Bones, by Kathy Reichs.   This novel not only has all of the above ingredients, but it is also one of the most masterfully plotted examples of crime fiction that I have yet encountered.   Part of a series centered on forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan, 206 Bones presents us with no fewer than nine sets of skeletal remains for Tempe to sort through and yet I had no trouble keeping track, not only of all  these vics, but also of the fairly sizable cast of suspects and law enforcement officials who Tempe also has to deal with. Spicing things up a bit is the fact that Tempe must also work on these cases with an ex-boyfriend police lieutenant who is persistently trying to get himself back into Tempe's good graces as well as her bed.  There's also the matter of figuring out  who beat up Tempe, tied her up and  buried her alive; this is the situation she finds herself in at the start of the book.

    Other things I liked about 206 Bones:

1.    I never felt like I was missing out on anything even though I had not read any of the earlier titles in the series.

2.    I enjoyed the  Montreal setting and the fact that most of the characters were bilingual made for some entertainingly colorful use of language.

3.    The characters came across as real people.

4.    Forensic anthropology is really interesting to read about even though I have absolutely no desire to ever be within 100 feet of a post mortem procedure in real life.  At times it felt like Reichs was giving a little mini class and that  was just fine with me.

5.    The revelation of the identity of one of the perpertrators came as a real surprise.

    At one point toward the end of  the novel, Reichs gets on her soapbox about the importance of professional certifications; she is to be forgiven for this because, according to her website, she is one of only 82 individuals to ever have received certification from the American Board of Forensic Anthropology.   It is no wonder  that she can write about this arcane topic so well.

    No, I never watched the television show Bones which is based on Reich's Temperance Brennan character, but I think I may have to start. 

Eye Catching

Marilyn Thiele

A phone call from the supplier of the book covers I carry in my store led me to today’s thoughts on the many roles a small business owner plays. She asked for the Purchasing Department. When I indicated that she had the right person, she asked if she had also reached Accounting, Marketing, Sales and Janitorial Services. Hers is a small business too.

Among the many new skills I have had to develop as an independent bookstore owner is that of decorating windows and displaying books inside the store. I am not naturally artistic or visually creative. Like Steve Jobs, I know what’s right when I see it. Unfortunately, I am also the designer who has to go back and try again and the one who makes the final decision. Fortunately, displays are not too final and are easily changed.

I have the blessing (or curse) of almost full height plate glass windows. Seasonal trinkets (tchotchkes to those of us in New Jersey) interspersed with books usually do the trick, backed up by movable shelves displaying more books. The rotation of display books in the windows is frequent by necessity. Even in these dark days of January, the sun can quickly fade a book cover.

Interior displays are more problematic. I am not in the class of retailers who are paid to put certain books in prime real estate at the front of the store. Decisions, for better or worse, are based on what I think will appeal to customers, what I like and want to promote, and how the whole display looks. As each new shipment of books arrives, hard choices have to be made about moving books to the “regular” shelves or keeping them “on top.” So many good books, so little space! The owner of a small gift shop in a town nearby responded to my lament about wishing more books could be placed at eye level by telling me that her husband proposed that they install a conveyor belt, constantly moving around the store. Not a bad idea.

Arranging book displays inevitably leads to thoughts on jacket designs. Many words have been written on this issue. But here are a few observations from an amateur:

                1. Although a cover in black, white and shades of grey conveys a certain feeling of menace, gloom and despair that indicates the content of the book, the fact that so many mystery book jackets in recent years have used this style makes displaying them difficult. Five books in a row in black and white looks like we are selling newspapers; but today even newspapers have color on the front page. I was taken aback at the movie tie-in cover for The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo: striking standing alone, but lost on a shelf with others. I’m glad I still have copies with the old, bright cover.

                2. Jackets that are mostly white are a little better, but get dirty quickly with handling.

                3. Too many “busy” book covers in a row are as off-putting as too many plain color or grey ones; alternating the simple and complex and blending colors makes the most attractive display.  There seem to be trends in jacket design, leading to too many look-alikes. Again, this is not my area of expertise; I’m only commenting on what I observe. For me, those jackets that reflect the interior of the book in a striking way rather than the latest style are easiest to work with.

                4. Readers do judge a book by its cover, or at least they stop to look at ones with attractive covers. More often than I like, I decide which books to turn out on the shelves or display on top by how they look rather than by my (admittedly subjective) opinions on how appealing the actual work is. Catching the browser’s eye is the first step to a purchase. She can then read the summaries, blurbs and opening chapter to determine if the book is a good choice, opening the door to other suggestions if it is not.

The abundance of newly released titles at certain times of the year makes for frequent display changes. At slower times, I find myself reluctant to move things around. Some of the delay is due to my own avoidance of tasks I am not totally comfortable with; most of it comes from the agony of decision making over which books to show off (assuming the jackets fit visually).

One solution to the limitation on the number of books one can display out front is “shelf-talkers.” These little notes attached to the shelves draw the eye and substitute for the salesperson who may not be immediately available or desired. The customer feels he is getting a personal recommendation without being drawn into conversation. Necessarily brief, a comparison to similar authors or a quote from a review can be an amazing sales tool.  Knowing that the bookseller thought that the book or author was worth the time and effort alerts the reader to something special. Book jackets with meaningful blurbs or concise summaries can be a big help to the bookseller.

Time now to switch hats. Both Accounting and Janitorial need attention. As well as those displays.

 

 

 

 

5 Customer Service Tips for Authors

by Erin Mitchell

This week I had a horrid customer service experience. I’ll spare you the gory details, but it got me thinking about the importance of customer service as a marketing tactic for authors.

For the purposes of this discussion, the customers you’re serving are readers.

I remember the first time I sent an email to an author and she wrote back to me. It was like all my birthdays had come at once. I was really fangirl gushy excited. I already liked the author’s work and would have kept reading it anyhow, but this gave me a mission I maintain to this day, namely to make sure I am personally responsible for introducing as many people as possible to her books.

Most of us are accustomed to sending emails to info@ or contact@ customer service addresses and getting back just a form letter, if we’re lucky. So that’s pretty much what readers expect when they write to authors, whether via email, Facebook, or Twitter, and whether their message contains a compliment or criticism. But authors aren’t corporate machines (right?!?) and so behaving like one shouldn’t be necessary.

Authors tend to get quite a lot of communication, and so maintaining a personal level of communication—customer service—with every single correspondent might be difficult. But there are some things you can do to excel at reader-focused customer service.

1. Monitor communication

Whether you do this yourself or get help (see below), make sure someone is reading inbound message via all the channels you use. This monitoring should happen in as close to real time as you can manage, but certainly not less than every-other-daily.

2. Remember that not all communication is created equal

If someone has obviously invested a great deal of energy in sending you a complimentary message, a short “thank you” response is warranted. If, however, a reader has sent a diatribe on some niggly book detail he feels you got wrong, you can choose not to engage with him. Likewise, you don’t need to follow every single Twitterer who @ mentions you.

3. Mass communication is just fine sometimes

If you get a lot of communication about a particular topic via Facebook posts on your fan page, it’s OK to do one post that addresses them all. Take a look at James Lee Burke’s page; he responds to topics, rather than individual posts, and it works beautifully. Or, if you’re getting messages via multiple venues, you can always write a blog post to address them and share the link.

4. Whatever happens, step away from the flames

There is no reason—none, ever—to get involved in a flame war. Know when to say nothing.

5. Having someone help with customer service is not disingenuous

Publicity, marketing and PR are all about communication. And if you have someone helping you with any of these, there is nothing whatsoever wrong with getting that person to help respond to communication from readers, even if it’s just to sort and help you prioritize.

 

Down the Rabbit Hole of Trivia

BENJAMIN LEROY

Today I read an article/factoid/holysh#tidbit about the family tree of John Tyler, the tenth President of the United States of America. It turns out that the guy, born in 1790, who took office in 1840, has two LIVING grandchildren. I didn’t say great great grandchildren or great grandchildren. The two men in question, Lyon Gardiner Tyler Jr. and Harrison Ruffin Tyler, are his plain old fashioned grandchildren.

Here are some things about this that blow my mind.

John Tyler was alive when George Washington was President. Between the three generations of the Tyler men in question (including John Tyler Jr., the father of Lyon and Harrison), they have been around for ALL 44 Presidents. By comparison, three generations of my family including me, have been around for a paltry 15.

I’ll admit that I didn’t know much about the Presidency of Tyler before doing some internet research earlier today. Tyler ended up in office after President William Henry Harrison died a month into his term, having succumbed to complications of pneumonia.

Tyler was on the USS Princeton when the tragedy occurred. What tragedy? Yeah, I didn’t know about it either, but it’s fascinating.

Etc. Etc. Etc.

All of these facts and historical footnotes are fertile ground for the imagination. And though they captured my attention today, something else will grab it tomorrow.

I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, but I think it’s important to be curious. As writers, we never know what obscure historical event(s) can be discussed or re-imagined or re-plotted to serve our stories. I can’t get enough of these things, and how often, much later down the road, they give context to something I wouldn’t have otherwise understood.

Do you have any favorite historical footnotes? Obscure, but real characters who fascinate you and that you hope to work into your writing?

 

What's in a name?

Lynne Patrick

I was going to post about this last week when the furore was still raging, but the death of one of my favourite authors pushed it to the back of my mind. Which, actually, is where it belongs. But it does serve to illustrate at least one valid point, so I think I’ll go with it anyway.

(Cries of, what’s she blethering about? and get to the point, woman!)

OK. If you live in the UK, you won’t have missed it. If you live in the US, you probably did.

Waterstone’s. Or more recently, Waterstones.

For the benefit of blog-followers across the water, Waterstones is as close as the UK comes to Barnes and Noble. Not as big, and these days a tad less like a supermarket and more like an old-fashioned bookshop, but nonetheless a large national chain of shops with a branch in just about every town.

It recently changed hands, and for the third time in less than six years is undergoing what the marketing guys call a rebranding.

And boy, have they caused a commotion. And all because of an apostrophe.

Don’t get me wrong. I can and do wax eloquent on the subject of misplaced apostrophes. The correct use of it’s and its is right at the top of my list of issues to address when I’m line-editing. And if there’s one thing guaranteed to make my teeth grind of their own accord, it’s the all-too-ubiquitous greengrocer’s apostrophe (APPLE’S 50p A POUND, POTATO’S 12p. You probably call it something else in the US – the Dan Quayle syndrome, perhaps) which seems to drop like litter into brochures, website text and all manner of public communication. There’s even a shop a few miles from us which welcomes customers with a board that reads WE ARE O’PEN. (Yes, really.)

But Waterstone’s, or Waterstones. OK, so they’ve decided to remove the apostrophe from the name, partly in a bid to make it easier to search for on the www, and partly, I’m guessing, just because they wanted to change something now they’re under new management, and the brand is so well established that changing anything major wasn’t an option. But honestly, what’s the problem here? Why is it such a huge issue for punctuation purists, including the National Society of the Prevention of Abuse of the Apostrophe, or whatever politically correct moniker they give themselves?

It’s a name, and the last I heard, the law said you could name yourself, or your child, or your business, whatever you like. I was reminded of a guy I knew many years ago, who used to get on his high horse about someone who worked for him whose name was Derrick. A derrick, he’d say, was a kind of crane; the ‘correct’ spelling of the man’s name was Derek.

I forbore to point out that the crane derrick was actually named for its inventor, who was called, yes, you guessed – Derrick. But I did (gently; he was bigger than me) suggest that the poor guy was entitled to call himself whatever he liked.

And so are Waterstones. Removing that apostrophe isn’t setting a bad example to customers whose understanding of the apostrophe is a tad hazy. Nor is it an illustration of falling standards in the correct use of grammar and punctuation.

It’s an exercising of a democratic right to spell your name exactly as you choose. Or a big fuss about nothing at all from some people who need to get a life.

State of the Union

Josh Getzler

I just spent the last hour and a half watching the State of the Union address (and pregame, and DVRed the postgame show), and I have to say, I simply love the pomp of the event. We are an amazing political experiment in the country, and while the system is broken in so many ways (regardless of what side of the aisle you sit), this is one of those nights that transfixes me amidst the political mishegas of congressional gridlock and an election year.

This time, for the first time, we watched with the kids, two of whom have the strep I generously shared with them last week. As is the case with all kids, they were very impressed with the entrance and the introduction and the first, oh, ten or so words of the speech, then wanted to know if they could switch to Victorious. But then I told them I used to work there, and they perked up (albeit briefly).

"You worked in the United Nations?"

"Congress, Sweetie, this is the Capitol Building."

"My class visited the UN last year." Then she turned back to J-14.

There was a notable, if subtle, change in the look of the House chamber this year: No teenagers kneeling near the podium in polyester ties and grey slacks (or skirts). That's because a few months ago, the congressional page program, expensive and long since redundent from the use of cell phones and email, had been abolished. And it was one of those understandable shames.

I worked as a page in the House during the summer of 1985, before my senior year of high school. I lived in a dorm in one of the House Office Buildings with 17 year-olds from all over the country, and spent my days running from the House floor to assorted office buildings, carrying messages and (much of the time) boxes containing folded American flags to be raised on top of the Capitol. (Actually--spoiler alert!--there is a little flagpole on the side of the Capitol roof where a fellow spends his entire day raising and lowering flags in order to send them back to assorted districts with certificates that the flag few "Over the Capitol." And you know what? I think that's just fine.)

I spent those eight weeks meeting and becoming friends with kids from all over the country, from my West Virginia-bred roommate who'd never met a Jew before to the page from Utah who was the first Mormon I'd met. The entire gamut of political views was represented, and we spent huge numbers of hours geeking out over whose office was nicest, which Members were most respected (Jack Kemp in the House, Ted Kennedy in the Senate, judging by the number of people who showed up when they spoke, as opposed to the nearly empty chambers most of the rest of the time). It was a program that was only incidentally valuable in terms of actually running the Capitol efficiently (it WAS 17 year-olds!), but there was something else great about it: It was an incubator for future public servants, a first step for the politically interested (or just well-connected...). It was an unforgettable summer.

I've stayed in touch with several of my fellow pages over the ensuing 26 years (Jeez!), and when the announcement came that the program was going to be disbanded, the budget saved, we posted for a while on Facebook and were wistful. Because while, of course it was a relic of a bygone era, it's sure a pity to see it go.  

 

 

Just Skip the Legalese

Jeff Cohen

I'm working on something now that I'm not going to tell you about, but let's say that one of the things it deals with--and I have no idea if you'll ever get the chance to read it--is the relationship between entertainers and those who appreciate the entertainment.

I have written very few fan letters in my life. To Mickey Mantle, when I was six, or maybe seven. To Paul Simon, around 1980. Not sure if there's ever been another. (Mr. Simon was nice enough to have his assistant answer; Mr. Mantle, not so much). So I sort of understand the impulse, but haven't really felt it in a very long time.

But it leads to the question when a fan gets in touch with an author, for example. What does the entertainer owe to the people who read, watch, or listen to his/her work?

There are many schools of thought. A book I'm reading now describes the procedure that went into answering Groucho Marx's fan mail in the 1970s. Groucho responded to all the mail he got, through an assistant, but with a handwritten autograph each time. I could have been one of those fans. I wasn't, but I could have been, and would have appreciated his philosophy.

On the other hand, celebrities will often complain--some less fervently than others--about being bothered while eating dinner in a restaurant, or while in the restroom. I can see their point, as well.

So I think that, with my fan base now boasting well more than six people, I'd like to detail precisely the responsibilities I think author and reader have in this odd relationship.

Author/Reader Contract

Author: Jeffrey Cohen/E.J. Copperman

Reader: Your Name Here

 

Author promises:

1. When you read my work, you will always get my best effort. Maybe you'll think one book or another is better or worse than the rest, and maybe you'll be right, but it won't be because I wasn't trying. That was the best book I could write at that moment.

2. When you get in touch with me, I will treat you with respect. I might be sarcastic, but to a certain extent, I think that's expected of me these days. I'm from New Jersey. Suffice it to say, I appreciate every reader.

3. If you think I won't be taking your email address to send you future news on my work, you're just being naive. I will. If you prefer I don't, say so and I will remove your name from any email list. I also won't send a newsletter very often.

4. I will not give you something you don't expect. I'm not saying all my work will be the same, but when I vary from what you're used to, I'll make sure it's clear I'm doing so. I'm not trying to trick anybody.

5. If we meet at a convention or a signing, I will be thrilled to see you and hear that you've read my work. I do not promise to remember your name. This is because I'm terrible at remembering names. It is absolutely not personal.

6. I will not present a murderer who appears for the first time in the last chapter. For one thing, it would piss me off if someone did that in a book I was reading. For another, my editor wouldn't dream of letting me.

7. I will endeavor to give you fully realized characters, interesting plots, sharp dialogue and even catchy titles. The key word here is "endeavor". If your opinion is that I didn't succeed, see promise #1, above.

Author requests of reader:

1. Please read the books. 

2. Don't suggest what should be in the next book. For one thing, by the time you read this book, the next one's probably written, so that can't happen. And besides, this is my job. I won't tell you how to do yours, and I don't want to steal your ideas anyway. Write them in your book.

3. If you see me at a convention, please come over and say hello. Just not in the restroom.

4. If I'm going to be signing at a bookstore/library/convention/street corner near you, please try to come by. It gets lonely when you don't. And it doesn't help me make friends with the booksellers.

5. Buy the book. Don't ask me for a free copy because "you must have a lot of them." I love libraries, and use them myself for expensive hardcovers, but my stuff is published as paperback originals. I realize money is tight, but the thing is $7.99, usually discounted, and I have two kids in college. At the same time. 

6. If I'm signing your book and you want me to write something in particular as an inscription, please speak up. I honestly don't know by looking at you that you'd like it to say, "Yours in Wicca, E.J. Copperman."

7. Feel free to email me, but let's make it about the book, okay? I don't have any recipes to share. And if you really hated the book, well, you can still email, but seriously, why would you want to? Do you think I'm going to take your argument to heart and quit the writing business?

8. Please don't blame me for a cover you didn't like, or typos in the book. The cover: I don't get to decide (see previous tirades on the subject of a black cat). I happen to think the cover of OLD HAUNTS (left) is terrific, but I sure as anything didn't design it; look inside to find out who did. Typos: Yes, I look over the proofreading after the copy editor gets to see it, but you know what? We're human. We miss stuff. We're not trying to get it wrong, and we really do know the English language. It was a mistake.

9. Don't ask me to write faster. I write pretty fast. They don't publish that fast. It's out of my hands. 

10. Please, go out (or stay in) and buy OLD HAUNTS in 15 days. I prefer you buy it at an independent bookstore, but any purchase is, believe me, greatly appreciated.

Signed on this date: Jeffrey Cohen

Reader: 

Okay, please sign that and get it back to me ASAP, okay? If there's language you don't care for (that is, if you think authors owe you more), please comment below with your revisions. I'll have my people call your people.

P.S. Pitchers and catchers report in 27 days.

Some more random thoughts about television and books

Dale Spindel

    I just finished watching season 2 of Justified, the FX television series based on Elmore Leonard's short story, "Fire in the Hole,"  before sitting down to write this and I've suddenly come to realize what has probably been obvious to almost everybody else - that there is a definite affinity between literary and television series.   First and foremost is that each is character driven; to be successful, there must be a strongly compelling central character who is surrounded by supporting characters whose quirks and eccentricities provide additional strokes of color and interest to the story.  For the series to be successful, there must also be a specific setting, be it geographic, occupational or a combination of the two.   Think Minneapolis and the newsroom for Mary Richards, Sherlock Holmes and Baker Street,   and Miami and vice for well, you know.  ( By the way, for those of you who, like me, had only a lukewarm response to season 1 of Justified, all I can say is that season 2 was exponentially better and I can't wait to start watching season 3 which just premiered this week.)

    Now that I have gotten this all figured out, I'm mystified that Janet Evanovich chose to opt for a feature film  rather than go the premium cable  series route for her Stephanie Plum books.  A good cable series can run for six or seven years but movie sequels are rarely successful after parts 2 or 3 and very often take significant nosedives in quality after that  - Rocky 5, anyone?

    Which leads me to the subject of the Jersey Shore (no, it's not what you think this time), a certain beach side guest house, and a couple of ghosts.   Yes, I decided to read Night of the Living Deed, the first  in a  series of three "Haunted Guesthouse Mysteries" written by E.J. Copperman, a writer who is not totally unfamiliar with the goings on at Dead Guy.   If I am not mistaken, by naming one the main character Alison Kerby, E.J.'s intent was to pay homage to  Topper, a series of three classic movies spanning the years 1937-1941 and followed, not coincidently, by a television series which originally ran from 1953-1957 but which had an extended life in reruns for several years after that.   It was during Topper's  non prime time rerun years that I became acquainted with the show; I had forgotten how much I had enjoyed it as a kid, even though there were so many aspects of the show that I was  really too young to understand.

    But back to Night of the Living Deed.  Alison Kerby, the proprietor of the soon to open guesthouse in the fictional NJ shore town of Harbor Haven certainly qualifies as a sympathetic character around which to base a series.  In the aftermath of her divorce from her ex-husband (usually referred to only as "The Swine"), Alison is counting on the operation of the guest house to bring financial stability - if not security -  for herself and her nine year old daughter Melissa.   Other characters include a couple of  Alison's friends, an attractively single elementary school history teacher, a couple of obnoxious realtors and Paul and Maxie (short for Maxine), a couple of ghosts who inhabit the guest house and who enlist Alison's help in trying to find out who killed them and why.  Although I have not yet read the next two books in the Haunted Guesthouse series, I can see that the door has  perhaps been left open for the intriguing possibility of a human/ghost romantic attraction which has the potential to be great fun.

        As a Jersey native, I do have some quibbles with E. J. regarding the affordability  of even a rundown piece of beachfront property for a person in Alison's circumstances; I also found an act of extreme altruisim that comes late in the story  to be almost reckless given the circumstances of the donor.   Other than that, Night of the Living Deed proves that it is possible for an author to provide a fun reading experience without having to rely on either snark or double entendres of the "wink wink" variety. 

        Also, kudos to E.J. for this example of what I refer to as "cross writing" - that is writing from the perspecitve of the gender of which the author is not a member.

        Finally, it occurs to me that Haunted Guesthouse would be a great foundation on which to base a television series - are you listening HBO?

 

The Hard Sell

Marilyn Thiele

An urgent need for new eyeglasses (urgent because I have put off the task for as long as safely or comfortably possible) brought to mind the many styles of retail selling we are all faced with each day. My reluctance to shop for eyewear has nothing to do with the actual eye exam; I like my eye doctor and the exam is easy and pleasant. But choosing the new glasses is torture. Every time I enter the store attached to the doctor’s office I am pounced upon by a cheery young woman whose sole job seems to be to keep me from browsing. She takes one look and begins thrusting “suggestions” toward my face. Over the years, the individual has been different but the selling style is the same. This time, a few weeks before I even had a new prescription, I tried stopping at the store just to browse. I hoped that the fact that I would not actually be buying that day would allow me to look on my own at what was available. By the time I left, three possible frames were on hold for me, none of which I had chosen. I acquiesced just to be able to leave.

I realize that I can go elsewhere; but experiences of friends and family indicate that this is a universal selling style in the eyeglass world. Are they afraid that if they do not hover over me, I will run off with a frame filled with clear glass? I practically need to put my nose on the mirror to see how frames look on me, so I am not shopping for glasses to make a style statement; without the correct lenses, they are useless to me. The constant, aggressive attention generates a desire to leave, not buy.

Then there are the stores (and yes, even small independent ones) where the customer feels like she is intruding; no greeting, no eye contact, annoyance when asked a question. This treatment doesn’t generate a desire to buy or return either.

My own shopping experiences influence my selling style, in what I hope is a balance between the two extremes. I don’t want a customer requesting that I hold a book, or even buying one, just to escape the pressure. Nor do I want them to feel that no one cared that they were there. I want them to feel appreciated but not smothered, and that the environment is a comfortable one to return to.

After the initial warm greeting when a customer enters the store, listening and watching are the most important skills for a bookseller. A new customer who “just wants to browse” is given a quick verbal tour of the store; if they specify a genre or subgenre, I can provide more direction. I then try to stay available, shelving or straightening books quietly. Corner of the eye observation indicates the next step. The shopper avidly picking up books and reading the cover summaries or the first few lines wants to be left alone. The one staring at the shelves with a glazed look now needs more help.

Customers come in many varieties. A gentle “Do you need some help?” elicits anything from “I don’t know what I want to read” to “I’m looking for that book that was on TV this morning.”  The assumption is that the bookseller is both a mind reader and able to watch every morning talk show while listening to several radio programs. Trying to be an omniscient psychologist is the most enjoyable part of owning a book store. Customers want to know that the person talking to them sincerely wants them to find the perfect book. And I do.

The omniscience required is provided by the computer: a little patient searching usually yields the unknown title and author. What is surprising is how often the customer, when given more detail, realizes the book holds no interest for her; she was listening to an enthusiastic interviewer while getting the kids off to school. But she has taken the time to come to a bookstore, wanting something to read, and a little chat about her interests will lead to a sale and a repeat customer.

More questioning is required in response to the plaintive “I don’t know what I want to read!”  Lately, hearing that someone wants to read is enough to put me in a positive frame of mind. Simple questions about what the customer has read recently, what they have enjoyed, and what they haven’t, yields information that further distinguishes readers. Those who haven’t read anything for a while are open to many ideas, and are often lost if too many are presented. (They are also usually getting ready to go on vacation.) Suggesting two or three authors that seem to fit their taste and allowing them time with the books is the best approach. Then there are the challenging ones who don’t know what they want because they have read everything by their favorite authors; every suggestion gets the response, “I already read that.” Fortunately, there is no shortage of good literature. Not being able to read everything, I have learned that listening to customers chat about books gives the seller a good background for finding that perfect new author for this reader; it just takes a little time.

Some readers have very specific criteria: only cozies, only needlework or gardening or cooking (never all three); only U.S. (not even Canadian or British) writers; only medieval, etc. They have usually read everything available that fits their requirements.  I have succeeded in convincing some needlework fans to try bookstore backgrounds, (or movie houses, or guest houses), or lovers of the middle ages to try another historical period, and they were able to expand their horizons a bit. For someone like me, who can enjoy the warmest cozy, the darkest noir, or the most heart-pounding thriller, set in any time or place, it is hard not to say “You’re missing so much!”  Here is where a sincere desire to find the right book for the customer takes precedence over the mystery fan who wants to praise books outside the reader’s comfort zone.

Probing to find out what a reader liked in a specific book or series often leads to surprising answers.  “Did you enjoy the humor? The characterization? The complexity of the puzzle? The setting?” “Well, no , it had a dog in it, and I like dogs.” This preference, of course, leads to suggestions, but not the ones the listener originally had in mind.

One exception to my way of dealing with customers who seem to need assistance is children. I learned long ago that suggestions from either parents or the bookseller are generally met with an automatic and emphatic “No!” The rejection appears to have nothing to do with the book or the person recommending it; children want no interference in their selection. I applaud their independence and that they feel they can exercise it when searching for books. Other than guarding against inappropriate material (no, manga is not a comic book for an 8-year-old), I am pleased to let them make their own choices. Yesterday I watched a six-year-old seriously and studiously look through a shelf of books. His face lit up and he pulled out one about pirates. I know he’ll be back.

The reward for listening to, observing, and chatting with customers is more than the pleasure of the interaction, or the joy of discussing books. It is the return customer, the one who says, “I loved that book you recommended. Are there any others by that author? Or any others like him?” And of course, he tells his friends about your wonderful book store.

Maybe the problem with eyeglass stores is that they know:  a) you have to buy glasses sooner or later and b)you won’t be back for two years anyway. The rest of us need to nurture our customers more carefully.

 

Ode to the Press Kit

by Erin Mitchell

Yesterday, Publishing Perspectives decided, in their infinite wisdom, to publish one of the stupidest essays relevant to book marketing that I’ve ever read. It’s a tirade by one Drew Nellins, a self described “writer living in Austin” who “is is [sic] researching a book about Simon and Garfunkel’s Concert in Central Park in September of 1981,” about the press kit he received with a galley.

While I don’t generally like to drive traffic to stupid content, if you’re inclined to read the essay, it’s here.

If we believe Nellins, when a book publicist sends an extravagant press kit with a galley, this is tantamount to “intellectual bullying.”

Wow. Really? I guess his trash bin is broken.

Reaction to the essay on Twitter was fast and furious. Two of the smartest comments were:

Dear Publishing Perspectives: There are ACTUAL problems facing the bookIndustry. The lowly press kit, however, isn't one of them.

— Colleen Lindsay (@ColleenLindsay) January 19, 2012

and

If a press kit (folder, etc) is sent, it positions the book as a "big book." Would you rather the publicist show up at your office?

— Kathleen Schmidt (@Bookgirl96) January 19, 2012

The truth here is that there is no one right way to create a press kit for a book. The form, format, and content depends on the book itself, and also on the resources available to create and distribute the kit. Sometimes, as was likely the case with HOPE: A TRAGEDY, the publisher decides to invest in more kit materials and printing. Sometimes the author does. And sometimes that’s appropriate.

What is it not, under any circumstances, is intellectual bullying. And if anyone has “gone too far,” it’s not the publicist. Few decisions about book marketing are made in a vacuum.

Also, it is possible—just possible—that the nefarious publicist knew that Nellins is a fan of the author’s work, and therefore included more pieces than s/he might otherwise have done. Perhaps the publicist thought Nellins would appreciate the 11” x 17” color print as a nice cube decoration.

Regardless, none of the pieces in the kit Nellins derides should absolutely not be there. The purpose of a press kit is to provide additional relevant and useful information. Sometimes this information is repetitive, yes, but since when is repetition in marketing offensive? Makes me wonder whether Nellins has ever seen a television advertisement.

So here’s the takeaway:

Press kits are not evil, and the publicists who send them will not be the downfall of publishing. And I hope that Publishing Perspectives considers printing essays from people who have a valid and considered, um, perspective in the future, rather than vapid, mean-spirited and unhelpful rants such as this one.