BEA: Care & Feeding of Fans

Lee Child & Debbie Macomber

On Friday, June 1, I attended "Care & Feeding of Fans: Author Remedies & Recipes," moderated by Carol Fitzgerald, empress of Bookreporter.com and its many ancillary sites and services. Panelists, seated from left to right, were:

• Lee Child (tiptoed out early; must've had a date)
• Debbie Macomber (apparently replacing previously announced Jennifer Weiner)
• Kathy Patrick, Beauty & the Book & Pulpwood Queens
• Adriana Trigiani (see my 2001 interview with her here)
  

I came in a little late and the room was SRO. For good reason: This was one of the best panels I've seen anywhere, and I've seen plenty. Fitzgerald was an excellent moderator and the panelists were fantastic--warm, witty and brutally honest. Though they'd never met before, they played off each other like seasoned pros and often had the audience cracked up.

I scribbled as fast as I could, but still didn't catch everything--such as what Fitzgerald's first question was, Patrick's disquisition on big hair, and the time Trigiani called into a Florida book club and they left her hanging while they got drunk (and didn't discuss the book). Now that I reread my notes, I see that they're rather telegrammatic. Oh well, here goes...

Kathy Patrick & Adriana Trigiani

Lee Child: The hard-core posters on my site forum are big-mouths--word of mouth has grown enormously. They hang out together, go on vacation together, travel all over the world together. They identify with the character Harry Reacher. It's a lot more socially acceptable to love a fictional character than a real person. [laffs] A British accent is the single most valuable thing for me in the U.S. People think I'm intelligent and refined, whereas when I open my mouth in the U.K., they know I'm a scumbag from Birmingham. [guffaws]

Debbie Macomber: I started with a mailing list of 350 people who'd written to me care of my publisher. I sent them a direct [postal] mailing of family Christmas recipes and got 300 letters back. Now my mailing list is 75,000. Every year I send a special pattern to the 25,000 knitters on my list. [No mention of what her postage costs must be!]

Fitzgerald: What's different now?

Adriana Trigiani: Online stuff helps; I answer 300 emails a day. I talk to 4 to 5 book clubs a week--at night, so it doesn't cut into the day. Have to have time to make the product. [laffs] People who read books are pretty smart. I made a DVD talking about books. Sometimes I take book clubs to lunch in New York, sometimes I meet them for lunch in other cities. [Macomber takes book clubs to lunch too; no wonder they both have adoring fans.]

Child: People are used to reading books with the idea of critical discussion. I talk about other books I like. I don't want to favor anyone, it's safer to talk about other people. [laffs]

Kathy Patrick: I kicked off the "Read This Book" campaign on the Diane Sawyer show. I wear clip-on hair for travel. [Tosses head; big laffs.] I run the largest book club in the world--it's in the U.S. and 8 foreign countries. I feature first-time authors. There are so many wonderful authors writing books that aren't seen. I run 3 book festivals: Christian [Books Alive!], Girlfriend Weekend, International Book Club Author Extravaganza. I can read and chew gum at the same time--the Southern Blonde. [guffaws]

Trigiani: The world is moving so fast now, it's insane. Every day you have to learn how to open something new...with pictures. [laffs] What hasn't changed is the commitment to our readers. Thank God I was an office temp! I knew how to put a mailing list together. It's a huge job. Reader loyalty has to do with access to you.

Macomber: When I'm going out on tour, I send postcards to everyone on my list within a 50-mile radius of the bookstore. I have a staff of three...Trigiani: THREE?!?!?! [guffaws]...for my mailing list.

Trigiani: People that read are on a journey.

Fitzgerald: Reading is one of the two most personal experiences.

Trigiani: I can't blog and answer emails. You've gotta pick what's most comfortable to you. Nothing interesting happens to me that belongs to be put on a blog. [laffs] You gotta have help, or there's no time to write. I call book clubs, take them to lunch.

Macomber: It's important to keep in touch with readers. Keep them updated on what's available. I send chatty newsletters from Cedar Cove with recipes.

Trigiani: I tracked down the girl that was kicked off "Project Runway." I got her tulle skirt and had a contest for it. That was huge.

Patrick: It's a better discussion if the book club has read the book. [laffs]

Fitzgerald: How about autographs?

Macomber: I send them a book plate. I'm not in the business of selling books, I'm in the business of writing books. I send readers to booksellers.

Trigiani: I offered a special holiday book plate. I signed 8,000 of them!

Fitzgerald: On your web site, you should have a nav bar item "For Book Clubs" and a form with time, date and place.

Fitzgerald: What's the biggest mistake authors make?

Trigiani: An author who won't speak to any readers, or look up. It's just rude.

Fitzgerald: I tell people to "lock and load": Lock eyes with the person and talk only to them.

Macomber: People come from great distances to come to a signing. Make it an event, develop a relationship with them. I used to pay my kids a quarter to bring someone to the signing table. [laffs]

Patrick: Be nice and charming. It makes all the difference in the world to be accessible. Some authors are terrible speakers and great writers.

Fitzgerald: At the Virginia Festival of the Book, someone in the audience asked an author on a panel what other work they liked. The author said, "I wouldn't recommend anyone coming up." [huge gasps] The room gasped just like you.

Fitzgerald: How do you deal with difficult fans?

Patrick: Answer everyone seriously. Tell them you're in the middle of doing a color [she's a hairdresser] and you have to get off the phone. [laffs]

Fitzgerald: What about hate mail?

Patrick: That was my first phone call after I appeared on "Good Morning America." I told her, "Let's talk," and she hung up.

Fitzgerald: How about events--do you do a reading, a spiel or Q&A?

Macomber: I never read. I talk about myself and tell stories.

All: People don't want to be read to; they want to connect with the author. [I say this in my workshops ALL the time!]

Macomber: The best fan letter I ever got was from a guy in prison: "You can be my woman and I don't even care if you're fat." [mass hysteria]

Trigiani: Don't read Amazon reviews!

Audience member: I was looking for book groups for my book. I researched Newcomers Clubs (they're all over the country), and they all have book groups.

Quote for a Lifetime

"The publishing world is a business," he says. "You should really not make the mistake of thinking that writing and publishing are the same thing. Occasionally they will intersect, but they're completely different."

--Sam Lipsyte (HOME LAND), from a 2005 PW interview by Maria Simson

What's In a Name?...or, The Devil Went Down in Georgia

A news story in today's Denver Post made my day:

Georgia judge overturns 10-year teen-sex sentence

Atlanta - A Georgia judge ordered the release Monday of a man sentenced to 10 years in prison for consensual oral sex with a 15-year-old girl when he was 17, a sentence that had been widely criticized as grossly disproportionate to the crime.

Several influential people, including former President Carter, publicly supported Genarlow Wilson's appeals, and state lawmakers voted to close the loophole that led to his 10-year term....

The poor defendant's lawyer is B.J. Bernstein. You can't make this stuff up.

Update: In the comments, I noted that Wilson must have been caught in the act to have been arrested. According to Wikipedia, the conviction was based on an amateur video tape (EWWW!), and that intercourse with the 15-year-old would have netted him just 5 years, as opposed to the 10 for "aggravated" fellatio. Oh, and he's black. The South rises again.

Quote of the Week

“Now everybody’s famous and nobody’s interesting."

--Tina Brown (channeling Oscar Wilde) in a NY Times interview by Michael Kimmelman, The Former Queen of Buzz Conjures a Golden Heyday

BEA Party Girl: LitBlog Co-op

All through dinner after the GalleyCat party, I kept making noises about being a Good Girl and skipping the LitBlog Co-op Party because my voice was in tatters and I needed rest. Blame it on the mojitos again, but I giddily piled into a taxi with Tish Cohen, Susan Henderson and Patry Francis, and decamped for Sheridan Square.

After some very clever sleuthing, we located The Kettle of Fish and elbowed our way into yet another crowded, noisy bar full of publishing types.

I said to a guy, "You look very familiar; I know I've seen you before. Who are you?" He said his name was Arthur Phillips, which didn't ring a bell. Then I remembered: "Were you on 'Jeopardy'?" Why yes, he was. "I was rooting for you!" I croaked. And I'm rooting for him even more, after reading his piece in yesterday's NY Times: My Dog Days. Oh yeah, and he also wrote Prague, The Egyptologist and Angelica.

I had a great conversation with editor-turned-agent Dan Conaway, aka "Mad Max Perkins" of the late, lamented BookAngst 101; pictured below (in glasses) with Mark Sarvas of The Elegant Variation.


I talked to a whole bunch of other people. Then by 11 (or was it later?), voice and legs shot, I tottered into the subway. My dinner dates were still going strong, but like Scarlett I was saying to myself, "Tomorrow is another day." A day I planned to walk, walk, walk, and talk, talk, talk.

And so to bed.

BEA Party Girl: GalleyCat

Outside the GalleyCat party: Susan Henderson, Bethanne Kelly Patrick, me (yes, I'm that tall!), Patry Francis & MJ Rose.

My original plan was to take a nap on Thursday afternoon, as I had a 3-hour break. (I bailed on going to MJ Rose's interview of Booktour.com founder and THE LONG TALE author Chris Anderson.) Instead I had a long, very late lunch with workshop alum Barbara Oakley (see our pic here), whose book, EVIL GENES: Why Rome Fell, Hitler Rose, Enron Failed, and My Sister Stole My Mother's Boyfriend, is coming out in October. (Love that title!)

I got back to the hotel just in time to change into an all-black outfit (hey, I'm a native New Yorker) and cushy shoes before heading over to the Algonquin for drinks at 5pm.

Funny how these things metastasize...Originally it was going to be just me and MJ Rose. Then I heard from Kevin Smokler, now "chief evangelizer" for Booktour.com, whom we both know, so I asked him to join us. Then agents Kristin Nelson and Janet Reid wanted to meet for drinks, so I asked them to come along too, as that was the only time we all had free.

When I got to the Algonquin, the joint was hopping with overflow from the Backspace writers' conference. Our group of five was joined by Kim Reid (no relation to Janet), whose memoir NO PLACE SAFE is coming from Kensington in September; Joshua Henkin, whose 2nd novel, MATRIMONY also comes out this fall; and a passel of other writers whose names I can't remember thanks to the noise, dim lighting and powerful mojito I'd imbibed. I'm embarrassed to say that it took me days to get Kevin's joke that we were the Algonquin Square Table; I blame the mojito (my new favorite drink).

Kevin Smokler and Joshua Henkin at the GalleyCat party.

MJ, Kevin, Josh and I shared a cab downtown to the GalleyCat party at Lolita Bar way east on Broome Street. The place was crowded, hot and very loud. I'd forgotten to wear a protective sparkly pin, but happily no one clapped me on my sore right shoulder. I saw lots of people I know and lost my voice within an hour.

(Celebrity sighting: Miss Snark in scary stilettos, with Killer Yapp riding shotgun in a waiting limo.)

GalleyCat Ron Hogan (center) at his fab soiree.

I joined up with workshop alum Tish Cohen (TOWN HOUSE), Patry Francis (THE LIAR'S DIARY) and Susan Henderson of LitPark, and led the group to Les Enfants Terribles for another great dinner washed down with more mojitos--which, if they didn't restore my voice, made me not care about it.

Left, Soft Skull publisher Richard Nash & author Leora Skolkin-Smith. Right, Susan Henderson, Tish Cohen & Jason Pinter, The Man in Black.

BEA: Platforms to Pitches

The last program I attended on May 31 was "Platforms to Pitches: The Best Way to Sell Authors or Books to Agents, Publishers, the Media, and the Consumer!" presented by Kim Dower of Kim-from-L.A. Literary & Media Services.

I met Kim and her colleague William Applebaum after I'd been blown away by their "Perfect Pitch" program at BEA in Chicago a few years ago. Now I always have them speak at my LA workshops; in fact I schedule around their availability.

Following are my impressionistic notes--my hand was getting tired after scribbling for 2+ hours at the producers' panels.

Kim proudly quoted a writer who'd dubbed her "the enemy of literature" because she'd had the temerity to say that a book is a product. [It is. Get over it.] She stressed that as an author, you are a PARTNER with your publisher. [I tell authors the same thing.]

The first step toward empowerment is to know about the publishing process and how the industry works. The publisher and author have the same goal: To make money and to sell books. [All this stuff should be a no-brainer, but oftentimes it's big news to writers.]

Ask your editor:

1. When is the book coming out?
2. When do I get in touch with publicity & marketing people?
3. Is there someone assigned to my book?
   
4. Most important: Have you discussed hiring someone for publicity?

You want to know what the publisher's plans are. "We only have the budget to send out review copies" is code for "Your book is dead in the water." When you know what they're going to do, you'll know what to do.

You have to look at nonfiction hooks to get your book into the "news" category. While writing--even if it's a novel--every time something happens having to do with the subject, put a news clipping in a folder.

You are part of the product. Kim hates the term "platform" [so do I], but we all need one. Ask yourself:

• Who am I more than a writer?
• What do I have to say?
• Do I have a personality? If not, how do I get one? [laffs]
  

For nonfiction, you must be able to write in one paragraph what your book has that others don't. Think of your book as a movie--write the "coming attractions."

ALWAYS BE POSITIVE, EVEN IF THEY'RE SCREWING YOU. [Big laffs at this.]

People like to work with people they like, so be nice. [This should be a huge no-brainer too, but alas not.] The publishing business is based on relationships. What else do we have? It's not for the money. [Big rueful laffs.] People in publishing are wonderful. But they're overworked and don't have enough help.

Don't take anything personally. Give the publicity department energy, not problems. Treat them like anyone you want to get along with. If you hate everyone at your publisher, tell someone else, don't tell them. That's what agents are for! [guffaws]

Closing points:

1. People buy books when they connect with you. So make connections.
   
2. Ask WHY before planning HOW. The heart of the "why" will get you to what you have to do
3. Write up a PRACTICAL publicity wish list. Match it up with your budget.
   

My First Meme

From Write Procrastinator:

• Grab the nearest book.
• Open to page 161.
• Find the fifth full sentence.
• Post the sentence.

OK, here goes...

The top book in my tottering bedside pile is TROUBLESOME YOUNG MEN: The Rebels Who Brought Churchill to Power and Helped Save Britain by Lynne Olson (Farrar, Straus & Giroux).

US cover is above; I'm reading the UK edition (Bloomsbury), pictured in my Library Thing list below right (temporarily on the fritz).

Page 161 is in a chapter entitled "Retribution":

Bob Boothby, meanwhile, received a telegram from his association's executive committee expressing great concern over "your non-support of the Government" and ordering him to appear before the association to explain himself.

Boothby (in top hat above) was a Tory politician in the 1930s who had "spoken out of school" against party leader Neville Chamberlain and his appeasement of Hitler.

Ordinarily I'm not much for history--I prefer fiction and memoir--but Olson is a client and she handed me a copy she'd signed her very own self. So I started reading the book, and now I can't stop (I'm on page 287).

I'd heard and seen a lot about WW2, and vaguely knew that the war had gone poorly for the Brits at first. Olson shows vividly and dramatically why: because of the deadly dithering of prime minister Chamberlain and his enablers in Parliament, and the Government's ludicrous fear of "antagonizing" Hitler by going on the offensive--even after the Nazis had stormed into Czechoslovakia, Poland, Norway and Denmark, and were decimating the British fleet.

Olson details events that were long ago and far away, and yet they have much resonance here and now. The emergency measures--including suspension of habeus corpus--that Chamberlain instituted have eerie echoes in the Bush administration's "War on Terror" policies. And Chamberlain's pathetic attempts to appease Hitler and Mussolini are reminiscent of the EU trying to talk Iran out of going nuclear, or various powers reasoning (ha!) with Sudanese rulers about Darfur.

BEA: Meet National TV Producers

Kristin Matthews, Patty Neger, Suzanne Williams & Elizabeth Shreve

Directly after the program with radio producers, Suzanne Williams (former publicity head at Pantheon; now a partner in Shreve Williams) moderated "Meet National TV Producers," with:

• Patty Neger, Good Morning America/ABC
  
• Kristin Matthews, Early Show/CBS
• Jaclyn Levin - Today Show/NBC

This program was as well attended as the previous one. Ironically for an event about broadcasting, there weren't enough functioning microphones, plus there was fun with feedback. So Williams started off by having each producer stand at the podium to give a little spiel.

Patty Neger: On GMA, we have hard news 7-8am, softer news and books--at least one book a day--at 8:30. I meet with publishers a few times a year and send lists of books to the producers of the first and second hours. Often I don't know why they pass. I get 75-100 books a day, plus the ones from the publishers I discussed. It is OVERWHELMING. Pitch me by email [she gave out her address]. I always want to see video. Don't send original home movies; you won't get them back. I prefer to work with publicists--it's easier to say no. They also know the rules of the game and public relations.

WATCH THE SHOW! THINK VISUALLY! Two talking heads don't do it. The bar is really high: What made it on the air five years ago may not work today. You must be an expert in your field.
I hate long voice mail messages, someone reading a press release over the phone. Proofread your letters. Don't suggest we do the show on the plaza [that's the Today show]. I received an envelope addressed to Matt Lauer. [Gales of laughter from the audience as she hands it to Levin.] Tell me if you're pitching other shows.

We offer packages with our news magazine shows. We can put you on GMA Radio; put recipes, quizzes, etc. on our website; put digital video on ABC News Now and GMA dot com.

Kristin Matthews: The Early Show motto is "News you can use." Our anchors have specific interests, but also do various things. Give us 3 or 4 take-aways that make your book different. Send video footage. Pitch via email. Voice mail is useless--by the time I listen to your message, I've had 4 others come in. PITCH FOR A SPECIFIC SHOW. "Pass" from a producer is a victory--it's 4 letters. Most of the time it's just "No."

I'm a huge fan of fiction, but it's hard to get onto TV. Fiction authors don't translate well to the screen. Is the hook tied to something real? [i.e., in the news] The author must be a very good talker with an interesting angle. If we pass, you can pitch again if the books is REALLY relevant to current news. Breaking news trumps all.

We do 5 books a week, also the Saturday Early Show. Every good book section we do buys goodwill with the executive producer; every author buys an opportunity for another author.

Jaclyn Levin: Today is the #1 morning TV show. It's on air 15 hours a week, Monday-Friday. In September, it will be on 20 hours/week. Authors are very important; they serve as experts. I receive 100-200 books, emails and phone calls EACH DAY. [Gah!!!] Make your pitch concise. Know the show and who you're pitching to. If you want to be a guest expert, send pitch to me and Nancy Snyderman. Send DVDs and tapes. We're drowning in information. [Neger & Matthews heartily concurred.] I also book authors for Dateline and Weekend.

Q: How competitive are you?

Neger: We want to be the first network and morning show. We'll follow other magazine shows, but don't want to.

Matthews: Same. On rare occasions, we'll follow GMA and others if the story keeps growing.

Levin: Same. We'll follow if it's two months later. There are many books out there [i.e., they can get another author on the same topic]. We move very quickly; we have to feed the beast. We'll follow "60 Minutes" andOprah, but not the cable shows.

Q: What do you think of online press kits?

All: Pitch via email with a link to online video.

Q: What's your lead time?

Neger: We're looking at fall and '08 now. A November book must be pitched by August. It depends on the subject.

Levin: I prefer being pitched early, but you can do an embargoed book the day before.

Q: What about your websites?

Neger: ABC.com is in conjunction with what's on air, but the others have their own producers.

Matthews: They're linked but growing.

Levin: Today.com may not get an author on air, but can be online.

Neger: All material you give us must be cleared for use online.

Q: What can turn No to Yes?

All: If something happens in the news and the author is an expert. Or you have an author who became a huge success later and there's lots of buzz.

Q: How do books make the cut?

Matthews: I read all fiction before I pitch it to the producer. There's no exact algorithm for nonfiction. Tape is more important than the book. Sentence structure is less important than whether the author is able to break down the book into 4 digestible points.

Levin: It's important to know what's in the books. I rely on publicists. If you don't know what's in your book, we're not going to know. I don't have an assistant; I get an NBC page to help me every 3 months. We look at every book. The most important details must be in the pitch.

Q: What sort of email subject lines get your attention?

All: Don't be too cutesy. Be factual. Give the name of author and the book title, so it's easy to remember the email and to find it again.

BEA: Meet National Radio Producers

Susan Feeney (All Things Considered) & Amy Salit (Fresh Air)

Alicia Haywood (Satellite Sisters) & Mary Hardiman (Morning Edition)

On Thursday, May 31, Elizabeth Shreve of Shreve Williams Public Relations moderated "Meet National Radio Producers." Only three producers had been listed in the BEA schedule, but there were five on the panel. From left to right, they were:

• Shannon Rhoades, Morning Edition (NPR)
• Susan Feeney, All Things Considered (NPR)
• Amy Salit, Fresh Air (NPR)
• Alicia Haywood, Satellite Sisters (ABC)
• Mary Hardiman, Talk of the Nation (NPR)

There was a sizeable audience of mostly publicists and authors. Shreve, former head of publicity at Holt (she spoke on my "Book Publicity Basics" panel at VaBook Festival in March and at my DC workshop in in April) got the ball rolling by asking what types of books the producers look for.

Rhoades: Morning Edition correspondents like a series of books in one conversation-- Iraq, food books for summer--with a big web build-out.

Feeney: All Things Considered rarely does fiction because it's hard for two people to talk about a story that they know but no one else does.

Salit: Fresh Air does mostly authors. Celebrating our 20th anniversary as a national show--more than 30 years in Philadelphia.

Haywood (sole booker for Satellite Sisters): We don't do pink books about friendship.

Hardiman: What's the question to the listener? The topic has to be experiential. Our main segment is a 40-minute interview; ender is 17 minutes.

Shreve: How do you like to be pitched?

All: EMAIL! We get so many phone pitches, especially 15 minutes before airtime. [Bad! Spank!]

Haywood: The hardest call is when the person launches into a 5-minute pitch without drawing breath or even asking if I'm interested. Don't send books blind; send an informative email first.

Salit: I don't answer phone calls. I've been at the job too long, I'm tired of talking on the phone. Send the book; I don't believe a press release. WE INTERVIEW AUTHORS, NOT BOOKS. Don't have a speech impediment; you must speak English.

Feeney: Send the book with a note why the book and author are extraordinary. It's hard for us to sort through the junky stuff. DO NOT CALL ON DEADLINE or after 3pm, when we're on the air.

Rhoades: We must get the book. The book matters first and foremost.

All: NPR has a dibs system--specific shows put dibs on upcoming books. All Things Considered won't do a book unless they can be first. Fresh Air isn't part of the dibs system but they try not to duplicate ATC or Diane Rehm. Can send a book directly to an NPR reporter who covers that topic.

Rhoades: No sloppy seconds! Morning Edition has a bigger audience than all three TV morning shows put together. We trade dibs with other shows. The dibs are based on Publishers Weekly, catalogs and newspapers.

Haywood: We don't do dibs, but Good Morning America Radio leads into our show, so we don't want to have the same book.

Salit: Booking guests is a competitive sport.

All: Hit the pub date! The book must be available when you do the radio interview.

Feeney: Embargoes don't work. NPR won't sign a legal agreement, but we don't break embargoes. We're looking for a new system.

All: We almost never do self-published books.

Audience: How far in advance will we know when the interview will air?

Rhoades: We'll let you know. Morning Edition is constantly changing; the interview could be bumped for news.

Haywood: We're live. The day we book you for is the day we're on air.

Audience: What are the most critical pieces in a press kit?

Salit: Must have a lot about the author. Audio and video tape.

Feeney: Packaging!I hate the gray fluffy stuff in padded envelopes that explodes all over, or if a package is machine-sealed and I can't open it. [Agreement all around.]

Rhoades: I love early PW or Kirkus reviews; a news peg.

Hawyood: Send information about the author, including a Q&A.

Hardiman: We book AUTHORS. We want to know what kind of talker the author is. Send a Q&A. News peg is important.

BEA: Belated Dispatches

EVIL GENES author Barb Oakley and me on May 31.

It's early June, which means I'm laid up in bed. Only this year I have a heat pack on my chest instead of an ice pack on my arm. Seems I brought home a nasty upper respiratory virus from BookExpo along with all the books, catalogs and business cards. Using my nose for breathing has become a fond memory; its only function now is to keep my glasses off my cheeks.

So now I have plenty of time to write up the copious notes I took at the programs I attended at BookExpo. Much of the attention during and after the show went to programs with big-name authors and/or big-mouth panelists, such as the Book & Author breakfasts and discussions on book reviewing. But there were some excellent programs that got no coverage, which is a shame because they were packed with vital information--and often laughs. I'll write them up in subsequent posts.

This One's for You, Mrs. Plass!

In my 6th-grade class at JF Oyster Elementary School (now Oyster Bilingual Elementary) in Washington, we did a geography unit on Russia. One of the lessons was on Siberia. I volunteered that there were tigers there, for which the teacher roundly ridiculed me in front of the class.

"How could there be tigers in Sibera?" she scoffed. "It's too cold there; they'd freeze to death. Tigers only live in India."

Once home, I told my mother about the incident. To support my claim, I pulled out one of the volumes of our treasured Worlds of Nature animal encyclopedia, which had a detailed, illustrated article about Siberian tigers--the largest cat in the world, up to 10 feet long and 800 lbs. I wanted to take the book to school to show the teacher she was wrong. But Mom wouldn't let me; she told me not to make trouble. (She toughened up: 10 years later she caused a minor furor by refusing to sign a paper saying she believed in God, which Baby Brother needed in order to join the Cub Scouts. He was allowed to join anyway.)

On the odd times that Siberian tigers make the news, a remnant of my 11-year-old self is aggrieved--and vindicated--afresh. This morning I was highly gratified to see the following item in the NY Times "World Briefing":

Russia: National Park for the Siberian Tiger
The government has created a 200,000-acre natural park in the Far East to protect the country’s endangered Siberian tigers, the Natural Resources Ministry confirmed. The Russian Far East is home to about 500 Siberian tigers.

So there.

Deep Thoughts from Spam

It's Friday, so of course the Spam trap is filling up. Many messages have the headline: "Can you imagine that you are healthy?"

Right now, the answer is a resounding "NO," followed by a sneeze or a honk into a wad of tissues. I just came from the doctor, who assured me that I have a virus, not pneumonia (I'm draggy and out of breath). She told me that I'd be down for a week and need to rest for another one. Fine by me, as I have nothing pressing till the 22nd, when I'm conducting a "Prep to Pitch" workshop at the Lighthouse Writers Lit Fest.

Somehow I just knew, when I cancelled my June 16th LA workshop the other day, that eventually there'd be a good reason for why registration had been so low. Now there is. And that's the last time I schedule a Book Promotion 101 workshop in the summer months. I've tried them from Maine to California, and there's never enough interest.

Apparently my workshops are like oysters: only good in months with an "r" in them. (Though people go in droves to summer writers' conferences and colonies; go figure.) Meanwhile, I'm heading back to bed with NO PLACE SAFE.

For lighter thoughts from Spam, see Spamusement! Poorly-drawn cartoons inspired by actual spam subject lines!

Update: Here's a new Spam header that really made me think...

"With our Soft Cialis Tabs you can even have sex with you"

When I clicked on it (who could resist?), the full subject line ended "...with your ex." How dull--and how misguided. Cialis sure wouldn't have cured the woes with my Ex, or with any other couples I knew who broke up.

Post-BEA Bump & Slump

I was in an exhausted, happy whirl Monday thru Wednesday, writing & answering a flurry of follow-up email, making & taking phone calls, coming up with Bright Ideas for next year's VaBook Festival.

During all of which I was doing my final School Mom duties--dinner for 8 on Tuesday for local master debaters and their coaches, including the Boy Wonder; buying cakes (I bailed on baking any) and organizing kids for the speech team fundraiser last night in the offices of a posh Denver legal firm. BW and 8 others from his school are going to the National Forensic League championships in fabulous Wichita in two weeks--a 9-hour van ride across endless dull flatness. Better them than me.

One of my workshop alums, whom I met with at BookExpo and steered to a publicist and media trainer, made my day--maybe my week--yesterday by sending me a gorgeous bouquet of roses in a deep ruby-red vase. The ensemble matches the downstairs decor so well you'd think it had been Designed.

Also during BEA, I had lunch with a consulting client, a debut author whom I'd never met face to face. She has a radio tour coming up and I strongly recommended that she get media training. Subsequently I chatted with one of her book's publicists at their booth, then late Monday I got an email from the head pub. After a round of emails and phone calls with the author, her agent, the media trainer and the pub, her publisher is going to go 50-50 with her on media training via phone. Everybody wins; I felt like such a fixer!

And now I'm down and out with a sore throat and jammed sinuses. The good news is that I'm going to bed with an ARC of client Kim Reid's memoir of growing up in the midst of the Atlanta child murders, NO PLACE SAFE. I was high on this book as soon as Kim told me about it; I'm even higher now that I'm reading it.

There Goes the Neighborhood

Perhaps you heard of the guy with the drug-resistant strain of TB, who recently caused an international health scare by traveling amongst Canada, Italy, Greece and the U.S. Guess where they brought him for treatment the other day? Why, to the pre-eminent hospital for lung ailments: National Jewish Medical Center in Denver, just a few short blocks east of my gracious home.

Meanwhile, varmints in and around Denver are dropping dead from BUBONIC PLAGUE. Most of the cases have been in City Park, just a couple blocks north of my gracious home. A recent fatality was a monkey at the Denver Zoo, which abuts the park. It's thought that maybe he ate a dead squirrel (eeewww!).

I am so taking my vitamins; also checking for fleas and breathing very carefully.

BEA: The Pain! The Exhaustion! The Joy!

Well, I'm back from Book Expo, lighter by 70 Book Promotion 101 press kits, 100 fridge magnets and 200 business cards, also 100 VaBook press kits and 50 large cards; heavier by a 2-inch stack of biz cards and 50 lbs of books and catalogs.

I started off on a low note by losing my voice at the very first social event: the GalleyCat party on Thursday evening. So I began the show Friday sounding the way I usually do at the end. What a lightweight I've become! I'm sore all over; feel as though wild horses dragged me away. Will write up my notes and post photos once I recover somewhat.

Thought I'd sleep late this morning, but Jenny the dog had other ideas, so I was out walking her by 6:00 a.m. At least the air was fresh, cool and dry--so unlike New York. For perhaps the first time since I moved here, I was glad to be back in Denver.

BookExpo Dispatch: I Heart NY

Got up at 4am for a 7:30 flight to La Guardia, which ended up leaving 1/2 hour late. Oh well... Darling Husband was right across the aisle and I had a great conversation with the guy in the middle seat next to me, who's a theatrical sound designer. He told me about a friend of his, a lighting technician who fell from a 30-foot catwalk and broke both her wrists, as well as some ribs. She's on her 2nd round of surgery & may end up not being able to bend her left wrist again. Yet another reminder that Things Could Always Be Worse. My right arm may be screwed up (I winced every time my seatmate brushed against it), but at least I can use my hand and go out and about.

DH and I took the subway down to South Ferry and walked around Battery Park just before dinner. The sun was shining gold off the Hudson, a full moon was over Brooklyn, a breeze was blowing, the waves were lapping and Latino men were landing big fish right and left. All was right with the world.

Along with my BEA registration came a copy of the new Pauline Frommer's guide to NYC. The binding is so shoddy that the first two pages came loose as soon as I opened the book. But once I saw that she gave a high rating to one of my favorite Chinese restaurants (Jing Fong on Elizabeth St. below Canal), she had my trust. And she didn't steer me wrong: After wandering along the waterfront, DH and I took a cab to Les Enfants Terribles (at Canal & Division Sts.), where we had a fantabulous--and reasonably priced--dinner. The drinks and food were as sublime, and the staff and customers as exotic and gorgeous as Frommer indicated. And after two marvelous, minty mojitos I was feeling absolutely no pain. (Wish they delivered to the Javits Center.)

At the start of our meal, on one side just outside there was a table of 4 animatedly speaking Chinese, on the other side the scene at the bar was in French, the hostess and waitress were Australian, and there were two gorgeous model types--one Asian, one African--at a table in the corner. After a while, the Chinese gave way to a stunning young woman & a plainer gal pal speaking French, occasionally joined by a French (Parisian from the sound of him) guy from the kitchen, all sharing Marlboros (the model types were lighting up outside too...*sigh*); the Francophones at the bar were mostly replaced by Aussies. Marvin Gaye's "Got to Give It Up" undulated throughout. I was in heaven (the cigarette smoke was blowing the other way) , especially while savoring every last molecule of the chocolate "cake"--really more like pudding/mousse. Some Enchanted Evening! To top it all off, our cab uptown went from Canal to 47 St without hitting any red lights.

But every spell must come to an end. Tomorrow I hit the ground running, starting with a breakfast meeting, and don't stop till I stagger onto the plane Sunday afternoon. I'm fortified with a bottle of B12 supplements. Hope my voice lasts.

My Latest Inspiration

So it's a big three-day weekend, which means my email SPAM box is overflowing. From the message headlines I learn that our great nation is in peril, apparently overrun with fat and impotent men. My solution: Cialis should be renamed "See Peter."

Are Children Isn't Learning

Students in Fort Worth protest being banned from high school graduation due to their failing the Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills exam. The sign in foreground sums it up beautifully: "Let are kids walk." Full story here.

I can't imagine why anyone would want to "do the walk" at graduation--or watch others do it--if they didn't have to. I haven't been to a graduation ceremony since Baby Brother's 25 years ago and I think my butt's still sore, as there were something like 200 kids in his class. There are 400+ in the Boy Wonder's, so Darling Husband and I were quite relieved when he said he had no desire to attend his own graduation this week. (Or was it on Friday already? I didn't pay attention.)

BW's guidance counselor was shocked. "He doesn't want to do the walk?" she gasped.

"Why no," I answered, "and it's fine with me." I felt like a monster. . . for about two seconds.

My own little monster (6'4" but he's still my baby) also didn't want to go to the prom, or have a yearbook photo taken, or buy the yearbook, or go to any graduation parties. Which are also OK by me.

It's All About Logistics

GalleyCat has a post with a marvelous double entendre in the title: Blown Book Deal Hard to Swallow. It's about how writer Eric Schaeffer supposedly lost out on a contract for his book, I Can't Believe I'm Still Single. Once I read GC's post and the linked post in Gawker, I, for one, found it quite easy to believe Schaeffer is still single.

Gawker quotes a Nerve interview, in which Schaeffer says:

"I ended a book deal from a major publisher in New York because the woman who runs the publishing company, when my dick was in her mouth, had her checkbook out and said, "I will buy your book now."

Schaeffer's equipment must be button-sized if someone can enunciate clearly around it--AND handle a checkbook while doing so. (Kudos to the publishing exec for her multi-tasking ability.)

Call me crazy, but I'll bet Schaeffer stays unmarried a while longer.

Rise Up, Joe Hill!

From As a Director, Clinton Moved Wal-Mart Board, but Only So Far in today's NY Times:

...a prominent management lawyer who has helped stop union drives at many major companies, said he worked closely with Mr. Walton to convince workers that a union would be bad for the company, personally telling employees when he visited stores that “the only people who need unions are those who do not work hard.”

Tell that to the coal miners and auto workers!

An Enormous Disturbance in The Force

I've been feeling mopey and didn't know why. I looked at my favorite blog a little while ago, and now I do:

Miss Snark is retiring

It may be bright and sunny here in Denver, but still the day is jet black. Where will I go when I want to laugh and roll my eyes at clueless nitwits? What will I do when I need more surgery on my arm, and there's no Get Humerus Poetry Contest to get me through it?

I defy any Snarkling to have dry eyes by the end of this video.

And see this tribute at 101 Reasons to Stop Writing, which also offers nifty Miss Snark badges. I just put one in "Even More About Me" at right.

Quote for the Ages

From Racial rift tears at school in today's Denver Post:

"I am appalled these people say we're racist. My family has been here since the 1880s," he said. "I have dedicated my life to this community. I speak Spanish to their grandmothers. I've delivered their babies. ... I've had that colored boy in my home."

--Vaughn Jackson, M.D., of La Jara, Colo.

Dr. Jackson's son Trey is one of several boys in an imbroglio with their African-American high school basketball coach (father of the "colored boy"). After target practice one day, the lads took a fun picture of themselves holding their guns and giving the Nazi salute, which whipsawed through the Web. Local consternation--make that outrage--ensued.

Website 3.0...or Cross-Border HTML Slavery

Magic Christian in Quebec read Lookit My Shiny New Website! and offered his design services and mad HTML skillz. He made a new logo and nav bar, added a "News" bar, cleaned up my photo and tweaked the HTML coding. I changed text, colors and headline fonts.

Here's the old site, made by Darling Husband.

Here's my redesign.

Here's the Newer! Shinier! version: Book Promotion 101.

Two heads are indeed better than one--especially when one of those heads really knows what he's doing.

Christian found me through Miss Snark's Get Humerus Poetry Contest--yet more good from one of the few happy events of last summer.

Mother's Day

What I Want:













What I Don't Want:

PIERCE YO MOM
FOR MOMMAS DAY

--billboard outside a Denver tattoo parlor (sic punctuation)

What I Got:

1. Sparkly brooch, purchased by myself as a surprise from/to Darling Husband.
2. An appalling quantity of plants at the Denver Botanic Gardens annual sale, ditto.
3. Omelet & bacon for breakfast (my choice), lovingly prepared by DH.

What I'll Get...presumably:

A card from the Boy Wonder and maybe a gift--when he finally drags his teenage carcass out of bed. (Note time stamp below.) All I remember from last Mother's Day is that he made me a card with an apology from Gomez, the horse who smashed me all up.

May Day 4

A year ago today I came home from the hospital. I mentioned that to Darling Husband this morning, and he said,"Yeah, I had to fight to keep you in there. They wanted to send you home after three days. I was freaking out; you were in such bad shape, there was no way I could take care of you. We were looking into skilled nursing facilities."

I remember little of that, other than the sourness of the sole female physician, "Dr Crabby," who was pushing to get me out ASAP. I stayed on, though, either through her being overruled by the other doctors on my case (there were at least three) or institutional inertia. I do remember a neuro-something-or-other in a nice tie, who had me stay a seventh night, for which I was very grateful. Due to my multiple concussions, he warned, I shouldn't have any alcoholic beverages for six months. Yet he had no problem with my taking opiates.

Once home, I spent most of my time on my back in bed, propped up on a big foam wedge, with a smaller one under my knees and pillows under my extended right arm. DH moved to the single bed in my office, where, except for a few days in July, he slept for the next seven months. Soon we rented a motorized La-Z-Boy so I could hang out in the living room. We thought we'd only need it for a month or two. How wrong we were.

Remember how "Dr Tommy" put a brace on my arm, and said I'd be OK in 8-12 weeks? Funny thing about that...

Shortly after I got home, my uninjured lower arm swelled up enormously and turned rainbow colors. My thumb looked like a turkey drumstick and I could barely move my bloated fingers. Naturally I was rather alarmed, so I called Dr Tommy's office. His receptionist chirped that some swelling was to be expected; beyond that she offered no help. So I called Dr S, my wonderful osteopath, who'd visited me in the hospital and even brought me a plant. (Dr S is no botanist, though, as revealed in The Importance of Horticultural Nomenclature. Swallow your drink before reading.)

Dr S told me the swelling was probably due to lymph drainage, and that I should elevate the arm and apply ice packs. I did, and whaddayaknow, the swelling went down. As did my estimation of Dr Tommy and his minions. A few days later, Dr Tommy's tech fitted me for a new brace. It was horribly uncomfortable, with a curved piece that poked into the top of my chest right under my arm. After several weeks of increasingly sleepless nights, I ripped the #$%! thing off at 4 a.m. No more Dr Tommy.

Dr S reconfigured the brace, then ordered me a new one that felt better. But my arm wasn't healing. Dr S said it needed surgery, so he sent me to Dr M, an orthopedic surgeon. No surgery necessary, said Dr M; the arm was healing fine with the brace and new sling he gave me. (Sling #1 was polyester, which made me itch.)

Meanwhile, I could do almost nothing with my right hand, as the thumb and first two fingers didn't work. I couldn't pick up anything, or even push down the space bar on my laptop. (I was typing left-handed; lucky for me I have big hands and a little keyboard.) And my arm still hurt so much I couldn't even carry my car keys. (By late July I was driving again, exclusively left-handed--quite a challenge when I had to turn on the ignition, or shift into reverse, or fasten/unfasten my seat belt, or make a hard turn.)

On a fine day in early August, I went to vote. My neighborhood polling station was at the Denver Botanic Garden, which conveniently had free admission that day. So after I performed my civic duty, I wandered around the gardens. On doctor's orders, I'd stopped wearing the sling, but had a wide Ace bandage wrapped around my upper arm and chest, which gave me a dashing flapper bustline. By the time I was halfway through the grounds, I was in agony. My arm felt like it was falling apart and I had to cradle it against my side with my left hand. I called Dr M's office right then from my cell phone and the doctor on call told me to come in the next day.

Just a few days earlier, Dr M had looked at the newest X-ray of my arm and declared the break was healing fine. Dr S looked at the exact same image and said, "There's no union" (i.e., the bone was still in pieces). When I was seen by a colleague of Dr M's next morning, he echoed Dr S and set me up for surgery six days later. I was going to have a steel plate screwed to my humerus--which Dr S had been recommending for months. I don't remember if he was angelic enough not to say, "I told you so." I think I said it for him.

To be continued.

But You Don't Have to Take My Word for It

Two days after the DC workshop last month, attendee Debbie Weil, author of The Corporate Blogging Book, wrote Run, don't walk to Bella Stander's Book Promotion 101.

Below is an email I got just yesterday from workshop alum Cynthia Shapiro, author of CORPORATE CONFIDENTIAL: 50 Secrets Your Company Doesn't Want You to Know -- And What to Do About Them. (The main title was suggested at the workshop by guest publicist Kim Dower, of Kim-from-L.A. Literary & Media Services.) This made my week!

I want to thank you again for all your great information, and your wonderful seminar. I remember, not so long ago, when I learned that my publisher wasn't going to do anything to promote my book, my baby. I was feeling heartbroken and completely lost as to where to begin learning how to do all this myself. Book Promotion 101 was a complete eye-opener and absolutely started me off in the perfect direction. When I left your seminar, I had a concrete plan that I'm still using today with great success. And the resources you introduced me to were phenomenal.

My TV experience last year on CNN snowballed into more and more TV, radio, and even a double feature in the Wall Street Journal. I’ve been on Fox News, ABC, PBS, MSNBC, featured in Fortune, Glamour, Self, Marie Claire, Details, Essence, Real Simple, and in over 40 major newspapers across the U.S. and around the world. AND the book finally broke through in a big way, shooting up to the top of the International Bestseller list! Can you believe it? It’s like a dream come true (well, a dream and a lot of hard work). It's been at the top of the list now for 9 weeks straight and is still going!

Oh, and my second book is due out in January '08! This one my publisher WILL actually be promoting thanks to all this publicity success.

Take My Workshop...Please!

I totally empathize with authors who groan at the burden of publicizing their work. "If you build it, they will come" may work great in the movies, but business is no field of dreams. So I'm constantly having to take the advice I spout at others and apply it to myself in order to promote Book Promotion 101. And it sure ain't easy.

NEXT WORKSHOP
Los Angeles -- Saturday, June 16
Registration deadline: June 4. Early Bird discount if you register by May 20.

Guest Speakers:

• William Applebaum, media trainer, Kim-from-L.A. Literary & Media Services
  
• Sally Nemeth, author of The Heights, the Depths, and Everything In Between
  
• Jane Marla Robbins, reading coach, actress & author of Acting Techniques for Everyday Life
  
• Kevin Smokler, editor of BOOKMARK NOW: Writing in Unreaderly Times
  

Guest publicists:

• Megan Underwood Beatie, West Coast publicity director, Goldberg McDuffie Communications
  
• Kim Dower, Kim-from-L.A. Literary & Media Services
  

Bonus: Wine & cheese poolside chat afterwards with Jennifer Kaufman & Karen Mack (Literacy & Longing in L.A.), Kerry Madden (Gentle's Holler, etc.), Sally Nemeth, Kevin Smokler and others.

See full details & registration info here.

Colorful Memories

Young Beverly Gray (far right) being taught by Carmen de Lavallade.

A year ago January, the day before I gave a workshop in L.A., I had a wonderful, long lunch in Santa Monica with author Beverly Gray. We discussed some book ideas she had, then the topic turned to her childhood in Los Angeles. She started talking about how for years she had taken dance lessons at the Lester Horton Dance Theater under the tutelage of its star performer, Carmen de Lavallade. So unlike most little Jewish girls then, Beverly's idol was a dark-skinned ballerina--one of the first in the U.S.

I said to Beverly, "That's the story you should write!" She did, and after many months it's finally seen print--in today's L.A. Times: Big lessons for a little ballerina.

BookExpo Butterfly Effect

Five years ago, when I was the books editor for a Virginia lifestyle magazine and a freelance reviewer for People, I attended the BEA Editor & Bookseller Buzz Forum, which used to be on the Thursday afternoon before the show. (This year it's on Friday, which is a drag.)

On the way out, Jonathan Karp--then at Random House, now head of his own imprint, TWELVE, at Grand Central (formerly Warner Books)--was handing out galleys for a debut novel he'd edited, Where the Truth Lies by Rupert Holmes. Karp was very enthusiastic about the book and we got to chatting after he pressed it into my hands. He reminded me that Holmes was "The Piña Colada Song" guy, wrote/composed the Broadway show "The Mystery of Edwin Drood," and wrote the AMC TV series "Remember Wenn," which I'd watched religiously.

A pivotal scene in Where the Truth Lies is set in an ersatz drive-in movie theater below GM Plaza in Manhattan. In the end notes in the galley, Holmes wrote that there really was such a place in the early 1970s, and that he saw "A Dandy in Aspic" there. A week or two later, as soon as I'd finished gobbling up the book, I sent an email to Karp telling him how much I'd loved it. My father co-starred in "A Dandy in Aspic," and his character is killed at the Berlin race track. So, I wrote Karp, "Holmes watched my dad die over dinner."

I sent the email to Karp's office address late on a Sunday afternoon. A half-hour later, I got a phone call from Rupert Holmes. Himself! Once I recovered from my astonishment, we got along like a house on fire and wound up talking for a good 45 minutes. We discovered that we shared a favorite Chinese restaurant, the Jade Palace in Scarsdale, NY, where Darling Husband and I had gone several times with his parents.

I ran Where the Truth Lies as one of my "Hot Picks" in the next issue of the magazine. A couple of months later, I went to Tarrytown, New York, for my high school reunion, and Holmes met me at my hotel. The Jade Palace was gone, alas, but we had a fine lunch at another Chinese restaurant, then afterwards hung out in the hotel garden. I had lived nearby (I told Holmes how I used to sneak into the hotel's outdoor pool on summer nights), and we walked around my old neighborhood. Just as we got to what used to be my home, a woman came out. I introduced ourselves (first name only), and she showed us around the house. It had been significantly remodeled, but the original 1920s fur safe in the upstairs hallway was intact. (Just as we did, she used it to store medicaments.)

A while after that, Holmes and I had a great dinner in the city at another favorite Chinese restaurant we have in common: Chiam on East 48th Street. In early 2005, after the funeral of my mother-in-law in White Plains, NY, I called him to get a line on a good Chinese restaurant nearby. He steered us to a great one that was right down the street from where DH's parents lived for many years. We saluted their spirits as we ate.

Two months later, Holmes's second novel, Swing, came out. It's set in 1940 and the narrator's former house has a fur safe in it, just like mine. (The hardcover comes with a CD of original music composed by Holmes; he sings some of the songs too. The disc goes great with "Swing and Dance with Frank Sinatra." Try it!)

Swing was published just before the Virginia Festival of the Book, so finally it was a good time for Holmes to participate at the festival. As luck would have it, the UVa drama department was performing "The Mystery of Edwin Drood" around the same time. So in addition to speaking on a mystery panel, Holmes did a talk and performance, during which he accompanied Drood's female lead in one of her signature songs. A huge thrill for her--it's not everyday that a college student gets to sing alongside the multi-award-winning composer of the musical she's starring in.

To cap it all off, the night I gave my workshop in Manhattan a couple of months ago, I and a friend attended a preview of "Curtains," for which Holmes wrote the book and additional lyrics. His assistant helped me get seats, the best I've ever had: orchestra, 6th row center. He found me during intermission and we talked after the performance, till it was time for cast notes.

All because I went to BookExpo.

To BEA or Not to BEA

A recent Book Promotion 101 workshop attendee quoted her agent as saying that "coming to BookExpo and thinking it would help at all was an urban myth."

I answered that I respectfully disagree. I think every author should go to BEA at least once--whether or not they're at their publisher's booth--to get a sense of the publishing world and how it works. They will (or should, anyway) gain a humbling perspective on how they and their book fit into that world: as a speck of dust on a tiny cog on a massive wheel.

"If you don't go," I wrote, "it certainly won't be a career breaker, but I think it would help get visibility for you and your book, and be an extremely educational experience for you. And you might make some good contacts."

That said, I added, "BEA is a madhouse and publishers don't want their authors aimlessly hanging about the booth and getting in the way of paying customers. So you'll have to finesse this."

Upshot:
The author is paying her way to New York, her publisher is giving her a show badge and she's going to have lunch with her editor and publicist, and possibly some other key people. (I told her to be sure she sees her agent too, and to bring little gifts for everyone and send handwritten thank-you notes when she gets home.)

UPDATE:
The author's inhouse pub arranged for her to do a BEA podcast, since she's (ahem!) "going to be there anyway."

May Day 3

So I spent a week in the multiple trauma unit at Swedish Medical Center. Once he was back from DC, Darling Husband visited me every day; maybe even twice a day, but I can't really remember. I couldn't read--too spaced out, plus my face was too sore and swollen for glasses anyway--and I didn't want to watch any TV. So I just lay propped up on my back, zoned out on painkillers (which didn't kill nearly enough pain) and brain damage, alternately sleeping and gazing blankly out the window at a dreary tableau of AC units and weed trees.

My great accomplishment, after a day or two, was getting out of the bed unaided and wheeling my oxygen & IV drip to the john. I looked at myself in the mirror--once--and was so horrified that I didn't do it again. It's remarkable that I look anything close to normal now, considering how battered my face was.

I was very glad when it was time to go home, but that's when life got really hard. My balance was poor due to my injuries, and the meds made it even worse, so I had to walk with a four-pronged cane. I couldn't use my dominant right hand at all and had to do everything (writing, typing, eating, personal hygiene, etc.) exclusively left-handed.

I could do absolutely nothing on my own, other than go to the bathroom--and that with great difficulty. To facilitate matters, I wore only a long pull-on skirt and loose Hawaiian shirt, or a long button-front dress, ankle socks and slip-0n shoes. (Someone else had to do the buttons and pull on my socks.) That's it. Lucky for me there were no sudden updrafts, á la Marilyn Monroe in "The Seven-Year Itch."

I had a big painful lump in my upper lip and banged-up front teeth, one of which had been knocked 1/8" longer, and my molars were all askew, practically undoing all the orthodontia I'd had in my 20s. So I couldn't chew and had to speak with a lisp so as not to hit the longer top tooth against the bottom ones. I never realized how much I use my front teeth till I couldn't: No biting off hangnails, and I defy anyone to open a shrink-wrapped tampon solely with their off hand (my very greatest accomplishment).

To my bitter disappointment, I had to cancel my trip to Washington for BookExpo that was scheduled for nine days after I got home. I also had to cancel a workshop I'd scheduled for mid-June in L.A. (I'm trying again this year; it's going to be on June 16.)

At my urging, DH went to BookExpo as originally planned and John, the college student we'd contracted to stay with the Boy Wonder while we were away, ferried me around. We hired a female home health aide to help me get dressed and bathed every morning. I just looked at my calendar, and on one of those days I saw the osteopath and Katie the counselor (she kindly made house calls for the next few months), went for a chest Xray, and in the evening attended an author reading at the Tattered Cover. I don't know how I managed that; must have been the drugs.

In early June I had root canals on the three damaged front teeth, one of which--#8, the most noticeable--subsequently died and has turned a charming shade of shirt-cardboard gray. (After this BEA I'm getting it capped. Meanwhile, I'm trying to smile without showing my teeth, which I did for years before I had braces.) The next day, DH had to fly to Connecticut for the weekend to attend the funeral of a beloved aunt. I don't remember how I managed while he was away; must have been the drugs again.

To be continued.

May Day 2

My memories of the rest of that day--indeed the entire week I spent at the hospital--are vague and jumbled. Which is probably a good thing; being in shock has its benefits.

I remember that it hurt like bloody hell when I was moved off the helicopter, and from the gurney to whatever else. The worst move was to my bed, after I'd been lying in the hallway for a while waiting for a room to become available. My eyes were bloodied shut and I don't know why no one cleaned them off, given all the examining and stitching that was done. My left eye was still stuck the next day, and I wound up wiping it clean--gently!--myself.

I had a raft of Xrays and CAT scans done, and had my mouth and forehead stitched. All I recall of that is being told that I was going to have the scan, and my saying that I'm allergic to iodine, so they couldn't inject me with dye.

Results:

1. Concussion.
2. Fractured nose, right brow bone, maxillary sinus, palate and palatinate bone (didn't even know I had one!); gash between eyebrows, which had to be stitched --all caused by my glasses smashing into my face. (The glasses shattered too; they looked like the ones in the famous scene in Battleship Potemkin. I was going to take a picture of them, but the husband disappeared them after a few months.)
3. Gash on right forehead (conveniently on an old scar), also stitched.
4. Right three front teeth torn through upper lip, ditto.
5. Fracture across upper right humerus & another down shaft at humeral head.
6. Two fractured back "floater" ribs.
7. Bruised liver, possibly caused by broken ribs.

To add to the drama, Darling Husband was in Washington DC on business. The stable called my home and got the Boy Wonder, who then called DH's office and got his colleague, Gavin, who called DH with the bad news, then drove right over to our house. Gavin brought BW to the hospital to see me (shudder...I was scary looking!), then stayed at our house till DH got home the next day.

At some point (next day?) the orthopedist, "Dr. Tommy," gave me a choice: I could get a titanium plate put in my arm right away, or I could wear a plastic brace and be A-OK in a couple of months. Well duh! Of course I chose the brace. Little did I know...

Continued in next post.

May Day

One year ago today I was awakened at 6:00 a.m. by a phone call from my stepfather in Maine, who told me that my mother was in the hospital with a hurt knee. Nothing dire, though she was in plenty of pain; she'd be out soon, maybe later that day. The news could have waited a while, but he'd forgotten about our two-hour time difference.

My bloody helmet & left glove.

Of course I called my mother right away, after which I was unable to get back to sleep. So I started off the day tired and headache-y. I had a riding lesson scheduled and toyed with cancelling it in favor of taking my car to the dealer, as it had some kind of jingle in the engine. But I didn't want to forfeit $40 for cancelling the lesson at the last minute, and figured I'd take the car in later that week.

At 10:00 a.m., dressed in my riding gear, I had a first session with Katie the counselor. I'd been depressed after an unending stream of trouble since moving to Denver in December. In January, my dog needed emergency surgery for two (!) cracked and abscessed molars, which the vet in Virginia hadn't detected less than two months before. Shortly after that, the Boy Wonder got the flu, then for months was down with a string of allergy-related sinus infections and return of a hiatal hernia. Right after he got over the flu, in February I got pneumonia, then a bad case of shingles, during which the dog developed urinary problems. Our (now-ex) vet told me her kidneys were failing and she'd be dead within two years. (Per the new vet, she has non-fatal diabetes insipidus, for which she's taking medication.) The shingles affected my balance and in mid-March I fell and broke my nose; to add insult in injury, a couple weeks later I got a wicked sinus infection. Then I came down with food poisoning at the start of our Passover seder, thanks to lunch from the antipasto bar at un-Safeway. In addition, we'd had to redo the plumbing and heating systems, and install new windows throughout our new (ca. 1902) house, all unforeseen and unbudgeted.

I sobbed to Katie: "I feel like I'm being punished, and I don't even know what I did wrong!" We agreed that I should come for weekly sessions for a while.

I miscalculated how long it would take me to get to the stable and arrived late. Worse, the horse I was due to ride had rolled in mud and it took me a good 45 minutes to get him cleaned up, by which time there was only 15 minutes left for my lesson. Gomez is "girthy"--he gets surly and snappish if you touch his sides too hard--which means I had to brush him very gently, then tighten his girth strap in three stages before I could mount him.

We went in the outside ring and poked around in a slow left-handed circle along the fence. A big bay in the adjoining ring kept rearing and trying to buck, and I admired his rider's skill in maintaining her seat, meanwhile thinking, "Whew! I'm glad my horse isn't doing that!"

Gomez, who'd been perfectly calm when I'd ridden him in the inside ring a week earlier, was a little distracted and kept peering around at the scenery and other horses, but it was nothing I wasn't used to. I took my feet out of the stirrups to stretch my legs, whereupon the instructor said, "You wanna ride without stirrups?"

"Sure," I answered. I'd done it many times before, though admittedly when I'd been in better shape; this was only my second ride in six months. "Should I cross the stirrups over the saddle?"

"Nah," she said. "You can just let 'em hang." I said OK, and she told me to pick up a trot. I did, and Gomez started getting jiggy--nothing like his usual smooth self. (Now I think he was irritated by the stirrups banging his sensitive sides.)

Suddenly I found myself starting to slide off, something that hadn't happened in years. "Oh @#%!," I thought, "I'm going to hit the fence."

The next thing I knew, I was in excruciating pain and couldn't open my eyes. I heard an enormously loud "WUB-WUB-WUB-WUB!" My first thought: "This sounds just like 'Apocalypse Now'."

"Where am I?" I mumbled, through thick, bloody lips.

"You're in a helicopter. We're going to the hospital."

"What happened?"

"You fell off a horse." ["Thrown off with great force" was more like it.]

Twenty-five years ago, when I came to in an ambulance and got that answer, my response was, "What horse?" This time, however, I remembered. Maybe that's the difference between being smacked on the right frontal bone rather than the left occipital.

Continued in next post.

The Last Good Night

One year ago tonight was the last time I was able to sleep pain-free, in almost any position. How much I've lost.

Don't You!

Russell Simmons, "the CEO of hip-hop," is apparently doing the full-court publicity press for his new book, DO YOU! 12 Laws to Access the Power in You to Achieve Happiness and Success.

Stephen Colbert interviewed him on "The Colbert Report" last Thursday, and if I were the Gotham Books publicist, I'd have been tearing my hair out afterward. No, make that DURING the show.

Colbert was being his usual contentiously funny self, and Simmons got rattled and allowed himself to be led WAY off-topic. He never answered the Three Big Questions (which I'm putting on fridge magnets to give away at BookExpo):

• So what?
• Who cares?
• What's in it for me?

Obviously realizing that the interview had gotten away from him, Simmons stopped abruptly, stood his book up on the table and, to laughter from the audience, said, "Let's get back to the book!"

To no avail; Colbert swooped in and almost immediately pulled him off-subject again. Worse, Simmons then started looking away and speaking directly to the audience. Colbert nailed him. To gales of laughter, he pointed off-camera and said, "Is there someone out there you're talking to? I'm right here." Simmons barely got a coherent sentence out after that--not that he'd had many before. (See for yourself here.)

After that fiasco, I was rather surprised to see an interview with Simmons in the Sunday NYT Magazine: Hip-Hop Guru. Simmons was more articulate; or more likely, benefited from some editing:

You write extensively about your devotion to yoga in your new self-help book, “Do You!” Is the title your own coinage?
No. It’s an old hip-hop expression: “Do you!” It’s just something we say all the time. It means do what you want to do. Do what inspires you. Don’t be a sheep. Keep it real. The book was originally called “Russell Simmons’ Laws of Success.”

Really? That’s pretty generic.
Oprah renamed the book. [That's about all I got from the Colbert interview.] It was like God calling. She gave me a better title.

But then we have the pièce de résistance (the publicist must need a wig by now):

Why don’t you try dating, say, a professor the next time around?
A professor? I can barely read.

Are you dyslexic?
No. I can read. But I can’t understand anything. I just read “The Autobiography of a Yogi,” by Paramahansa Yogananda, over and over again.

My first thought: And we should read Simmons's book why?

Second thought: I'll bet Simmons didn't even write his book.
(I just checked Amazon. Well whaddaya know! There's a co-writer: Chris Morrow.)

Third thought: I'll bet Simmons didn't even read his book.

Lookit My Shiny New Website!

I'm feeling like the Queen of HTML, after having spent most of the past week flipping through 2 books & a bunch of websites, laboriously futzing with @#$%! code. (I didn't want to wrestle with learning--or paying for--DreamWeaver.)

Hence no blog posts, mais voilà! My sleek, revamped Book Promotion 101 website. With pictures and everything.

Comments & suggestions gratefully appreciated.

I'm So Proud!

One of the attendees at my Book Promotion 101 workshop in DC last weekend was Barbara Oakley, author of EVIL GENES: Why Rome Fell, Hitler Rose, Enron Failed and My Sister Stole My Mother’s Boyfriend (Prometheus Books, coming in Oct). We suggested that, since there's an unending supply of evil acts, she'll never run out of subjects for a blog or newspaper opinion pieces.

Little did we know that a horrific event would occur just two days later. As soon as I heard the news about the Virginia Tech shootings, I told Barbara to write a piece immediately. She did, her Prometheus publicist gave her contact info for the NY Times, and look what was in today's paper: The Killer in the Lecture Hall. Horrible that there was such enormous evil for her to comment on right away, but fantastic that she did it.

Barbara's been inundated with emails all day: comments from readers, offers to review the book and write about it in magazines, an invitation to speak later this week, and interest from the UK for a documentary. Heady stuff!