Book Signing Blues – Part 1

A couple of my author friends have related stories to me about book signings that didn’t go well at all. To say they didn’t go well is an understatement. They stank on ice—they were death on a stick. I feel for these authors. They basically killed an afternoon, sitting there at their table full of books and people were walking around them like they were girls with herpes sores running a kissing booth.

Now, I have personally never held a book signing, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know absolutely everything of value about it. Trust me, I’ve been an armchair quarterback for years, and it’s a well-known fact in my mind that if the Oakland Raiders had listened to me, they would have won every single Superbowl since the seventies. Yeah, I know they won a few in there. They got lucky. Shut up.

The very first thing you have to understand about book signings is that it is not about selling your book. You are an author, not a salesman. If you were a salesman, you’d probably be a crappy one. You’d be the kind of guy who’s always missing out on customers because you’re too busy working on your “novel.” If you were a good salesman, it would go something like this:

You see an unsuspecting rube, er—prospective customer, and saunter over to deliver your patter.

YOU: “Hey! How you doin’ today? Bob Summers—author!” (vigorously shake rube’s hand) “I see you checking out this book over here. Well, I can’t blame you…”

RUBE: “Well, I uh…”

YOU: “That’s all right, my friend. Here, you can touch, taste, feel, smell—take all the time you want, ask any questions you want because nobody here is going to pressure you!” (put arm around rube’s shoulder and start walking him to the table)

RUBE: “Well, I uh…”

YOU: (handing book to rube) “Now go ahead and give that baby a heft, Jimmy.”

RUBE: (Takes book) “My name is Jeff. Look, I uh…”

YOU: “What a coincidence! You know, one of my favorite characters in this book is named Jeff. Now go ahead and give that baby a heft. You feel that? That’s real imported Italian paper. You don’t get that kind of heft from domestic anymore, am I right?”

RUBE: “Well, I uh…”

YOU: “Now look at that cover art. Have you ever seen anything like that? Look at the detail. This is no dime-store paperback, Jeff.”

RUBE: “I uh…”

YOU: “Now look at that binding. That is a quality binding, Jeff. You know what that means? This book is going to last you. You ever bought one of those cheap books that fall apart halfway through? Pages falling out? You’re embarrassed to be seen reading a book like that, and you sure as hell can’t loan it to anybody—am I right?”

RUBE: “Yeah, I guess…”

YOU: “You know what you have when you have a quality book like this, Jeff? You got an heirloom.”

RUBE: “Heirloom? I just, uh…””

YOU: (place arm over rube’s shoulder, look around to make sure no one else is watching) “I gotta tell you Jeff, I see you with this book. In fact, I can’t bear the thought of this book going to someone else.”

RUBE: “I don’t really think…”

YOU: “Think? Jeff, you don’t buy a book by thinking about it—you buy a book with your heart. Now, I can see you’re the kind of man who likes to know what he’s getting into and I could stand here and let you take a test-read—try out the first chapter or two, but I can personally guarantee you that this book right here contains all the same nouns and verbs of the best-selling books of all time and at a fraction of the cost.”

RUBE: “But how much…”

YOU: “You see that sticker price, Jeff?” (rube nods) “I want you to forget that sticker price. What kind of money do you have on you right now?”

RUBE: “Well, I have a twenty…”

YOU: “Jeff, you’re killing me here. You know what this book goes for in a brick and mortar store?”

(Rube starts to walk away)

YOU: “Now just wait a second, Jeff. Don’t get all out of sorts. I can see you’re a shrewd negotiator, but you gotta admit that when you add up the gas savings, tax savings, plus the pure prestige of owning a book like this, you can’t afford not to make this deal, right?”

RUBE:  (opens wallet) “Twenty? But I was going…”

YOU:  (Yank twenty out of rube’s wallet and pat him vigorously on back) “Oh, you’ve made a smart deal, Jeff—and you know what? I’m going to sign that book for you. That’s right—a personalized inscription just for you at no extra charge!” (Take book from rube and rapidly scribble down: To my good friend Jimmy – all the best, Bob Summers)