And Always Try to Get a Laugh-in.

by Barbara Poelle

Can it pul-LEASE be spring already? Is there some sort of fairy or patron saint or muse or something of spring? If so I would like to find her and knock her down and choke her and scream SPRING NOW in her face over and over as I rapped her skull against the pavement.  At least I am heading to Sluethfest in sunny Florida on Thursday so I can fake it. Also, Husband comes home tonight for like 17 minutes before he is off again and I swear if that plane is even four minutes delayed, someone is getting slapped. Maybe a flight attendant, maybe Ruth Buzzi. But someone.

Hang on, I am seeing a pattern here. No, no, nothing to do with my unchecked rage issues, those are coming along nicely. I am talking about anticipation.

Anticipation is my funny bedfellow, because it combines two things I refuse to participate in: patience and things outside my control. But for whatever reason, even if I can’t stand its components, the whole I can swallow as easily as a tooth punched out in a bar fight. In fact, most of my career is based on anticipation (um, and a little bit on bar fights).  Market trends, pub month projections, buyers climate, etc, that’s all about anticipating and I roll around in that kinda thing as I would in a tub of noodles. But sometimes, with my clients, I can see anticipation backfire on them like a fat man at the Sausalito Chili Festival.

See, when you sign with an agent you are all wheeee! Pop the champagne and call your friends!  And your agent sells your book! Wooo hooo!  Dump the vodka down your throat and drunk dial an ex!  And then your pub date arrives and…um, why isn’t the paperboy genuflecting and how often can you work, “well, since my book pub’d today…” into normal conversation before no one ever wants to talk to you again?

Unfortunately, with a lot of debut novels, there just isn’t enough in the budget to roll out the publicity machine. (I know you have only heard of this machine, but I can tell you, it looks like that scary tunnel digging thing in that scene from Labyrinth that almost crushes Sarah and Hoggle.) So with all the anticipation attached to a debut novel, there's a very real let down thing that happens when it just sort of plops out there into the world like one of those random shoes on the side of the highway. (DUDE, what IS the DEAL with those random SHOES?!?!?) Also, if you have a multi-book contract, you’ve probably sort of been numbed to the first book because, by the time it hits shelves, you’re buried deep in the shenanigans that make up that demon second book.

Look, here’s the thing, no matter what kind of launch you have for book one,  what you need to do is take the “anti” out of anticipation. This can be a powerful tool in your writer arsenal, this cipation. Besides, just think:  you can't have "cipation" without "sip," so get to drinking. Wheee!

PS. Oh stop. She’s fine.

 

Comments

[Carrie]

You're not the only one on this Spring thing, sister. My friend's husband left her (world record douche, that guy) so I've been taking her kids to school. Just this morning, little Julie, age 6, starts saying something about fog and rain. I respond, "no, it's not raining, it's just thick fog." She then caterwauls, "No! You don't know what I'm saying! I WANT IT TO BE SPRING!" She starts crying. We arrive at the school. I hear her whimper the word, "Spring," and then she slunk out of the car, slamming the door behind her. God bless that little kid, you know? Your dad leaves you and God has handed you a perpetual winter worthy of the White Witch. Life is hard.

[Keli Scrapchansky]

Every time I read one of your posts, I sort of just stare at it for a minute afterward, wondering what happened. Was it the shoes? Was it Ruth Buzzi? Oh, wait, no, the point was the -cipation. Speaking of which, I am ANTI-cipating spring. I have kidnapped the fairy to keep her safe from you and to let old man winter keep his grip on the current weather. Enjoy Florida (better you than me - a childhood there was enough).

[Pamela Cayne]

Damn--does this mean I have to return the pink snap-on boa for my snuggie and custom bedazzled cigarette holder that I've had on layaway? I thought they'd look so good on Oprah.

And since I live in Arizona, I'll keep my mouth shut about the weather. I don't want to end up like poor Ruth.

[Carrie]

you know, on another note, if one should be so lucky as to have a book about to hit the shelves, why not put all your focus into what you already mentioned here - those things you can control. It seems to me that writing is only half of a writers job. The other half is being a shameless self-promoting whore. Or maybe I just like to think that because of the 5 inch stilettos that spend most of their lives waiting, ever so patiently, in my closet.

[Stephen D. Rogers]

SHOT TO DEATH, my collection of mystery short stories, came out on the 15th, and several people asked me what it meant that the 15th was the official pub date. I explained it meant that I was going to drive 63 miles to eat my favorite eggrolls. To which one person replied, "James Patterson must eat a lot of Chinese food."

[Nicole Hadaway]

It's 41 degrees for a HIGH today in Southeast Texas, and down here it has been one long, cold winter down here. I swear I'm wearing my bathing suit all day long the first day it hits 90!

And I love you for having mentioned Labyrinth -- that was my favorite movie when I was 14, and I wondered how many people remember that Oscar-winner Jennifer Connolly got her start in it!

[Paula Matter]

Have you seen this yet?

http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/6164349/

[SlitheryBarbaraPoelleFanClub]

Try not to get eaten by a giant python slithering out of the Everglades, query letter in fang, ok?

[Amy Lindel]

James Patterson has other people to eat his Chinese food for him.

[Mark Phialas]

Well, have a good time in Florida.

Don't worry about us.

We'll ok.

Sure, I love living in a freezer.

Not that we're jealous.

Florida in winter?

No anticipation needed.

Just get me to the plane.