Are You Getting Off?

As a debut author last year, I embraced the internet and all that it offered in terms of promotion, connecting to readers and colleagues. All those online interviews, blog posts, Facebook interactions, Twitter—all those things to get the word out about my novel—I did with gusto. In addition, I joined a few, private FB groups, where we shared information about our crazy publishing business—stuff that was affecting us all—good and bad.

This knowledge exchange and cross promotion was thrilling. It felt important and valuable, until it hit me that something insidious was happening. Over the year, I didn’t realize how many hours I was spending on Facebook, until my internal safety net, the one that filters TMI (too much information), had torn open. I plunged into a flood of data, bobbing and spinning down a scary, invisible current.

What strange, webby waters had I entered? What blurry ocean of online-ness?

I can only speak for my own experience, but my inner balance had tipped. My excessive online time had reached a point of disturbing my sleep, my rest, my sense of solitude. I’d toppled into a psychic whirlpool—one of my own making.

On walks around the city, which I do daily, my mind became entangled with other people’s Facebook posts and pictures. Random worries began to invade my thinking. If you’re a worrier like me, you’ll understand how this sucks holes in your brain. My psychic body was leaking, sinking, dragged down by www.overstimulation dot net.

Recently, I got stuck in an airport when my plane to Arizona was grounded due to a March snow storm. Luckily, I ran into two authors I knew—also bound for AZ (for the wonderful Tucson Festival of the Book). Together, we waited for our rescheduled flights. Over lunch, we talked about our favorite subjects: writing and books. Halfway through my salad, my friend said: “If you’re spending more than 30 minutes on Facebook every day, that’s too much. You should be spending that time writing your next book.”

A measly thirty minutes of Facebook every day? I was logging in way more than that. I felt ashamed of myself. Did I have a problem? Was I an addict? Clearly, my friend’s comment hit a nerve.

Since then, I’ve given this some thought and I’ve concluded that some of us can stay online at will, write new books and produce new work without feeling this data drain that I’ve experienced. But, some of us (i.e.—me ) need to unplug regularly and often. If I don’t step away from scrolling, linking and clicking, my energy begins to thin—a kind of mental osteoporosis (that, thankfully, begins to reverse itself when I take time off-line).

I’m going to try that 30-minute rule and see how I do. What about you? Do you get web fatigue? Or, are you unaffected by it? What strategies do you take to keep your balance?

***

Jessica Keener’s debut novel, Night Swim, recently landed back in the top #150 on Amazon’s paid bestseller list, and in the #1 spot in the Jewish Lit category. She is working on several new projects and hopes you will “like” her new FB author page to stay in touch as she continues to post pictures of clouds, trees, skies, flowers, books, Boston, New England, food (for up to or approx.. 30 minutes throughout the day, but who’s counting?).

Get out! Get out!

by Sam Thomas

Most writers are pretty insecure about their craft. The insecurity is born of experience: we have seen our work rejected many more times than its been embraced, whether by agents or publishers. We are regularly tell ourselves (or are told by agents or editors) that our work is not good enough. We also tend to keep to ourselves – writing is self-expression for introverts. We did not start bands, take up stand-up comedy, or spend our evenings at poetry slams. We shut ourselves off from the world and wrote.

Fine and dandy, except that with the decline of marketing budgets and the virtual disappearance of literary taste-makers (except the one whose name starts with “O”), the whole J.D. Salinger approach to publicity is not going to fly. Want to get our books out there? It’s up to us. The problem, of course, is that we are insecure and introverted.

My goal here is to encourage new writers to get out there and meet people. Offer to present at local libraries, visit with book clubs, talk to whomever will listen!

If you do, you’ll discover some pretty awesome things. First, it’s a ton of fun. You are already passionate about your work, or else you wouldn’t have taken the trouble to write a book. That passion willcome through. And remember that (unless you’ve set up a kiosk on a street corner), the people who come to see you are already interested in your work, or else they’d be somewhere else. You don’t have to convince them of anything. If you are polite and honest, people will walk away happy.

The other thing to keep in mind is that while you may not think it’s a big deal getting published, and you recognize that it’s a real grind, but others are much more excited. And while it’s pretty clear to you that you’ve been very lucky (at least that’s the case for me), that doesn’t mean you don’t have a good story to tell. People like to hear about the writing and publishing process first hand. The process might grind you down, but talking with readers and prospective readers will build you up!

So get out there!

Conquering My Fear of Book Presentations

One of the strangest things about writing a novel is that after spending months and years alone with your thoughts, slaving away on your book, you’re supposed to get up in front of people and talk about your work as if it’s something you do every day. For those of us with little or no public speaking experience, it can be daunting to say the least. Terrifying is probably a more appropriate word.

When the local library invited me to do a signing and presentation after my debut novel released, I thought it would be a piece of cake. After all, I had directed a few community plays. I knew I could stand up and talk to a group of people. Plus, I was the first person in our area to have a book traditionally published. I knew everyone would be interested in hearing about that journey.

I was looking forward to the signing, naively confident for a number of reasons. After all, I knew my novel better than anyone. I had learned a lot about the publishing world. And I knew most of the people who would be attending the event. I thought I’d have the same excited sense of anticipation I always had when looking forward to a celebration or holiday. I thought the time leading up to the event would feel like the days before my wedding reception, when I was looking forward to seeing everyone there, smiling and waiting to congratulate me.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The closer it got to the day of the event, the more my stomach churned. I worked on my presentation for a day and half and blew up old family photos from WWII to use as visual aids. I practiced in the kitchen, using the clock on the stove to time myself. Then I made my first lethal mistake. Three days before the event, I asked my husband and twenty-six year old daughter for their opinion on my presentation. What I really wanted was feedback on the content, not a critique of my delivery. My second mistake was not telling them that.

I won’t go into the details here, but by the time they were finished telling me what they thought, I was in tears. I wondered what I’d been thinking, imagining that I could perform like the REAL authors I’d seen on tour. I was certain that I was about to make a fool of myself in front of the half the community. The next two days were sheer torture. I walked around with a boulder in my chest, wishing I’d never written a book in the first place. And to top it all off, I had other appearances already scheduled. There was no way I could cancel them. This was what I'd signed up for and now my worst fears were coming true. I was not going to live up to what was expected of me as a published author.

My husband did his best to make me feel better; reminding me that everyone was excited and proud of me. He said they were coming to the library because I had done something amazing and they loved my novel. He said I could stand up there and pick my nose and they’d still be thrilled to have me sign their books. (after washing my hands, of course) I wasn’t convinced. To say I was a mess would be an understatement. Then, the night before my presentation, I had a dream about a little blonde girl who looked up at me with big-blue eyes and said, “Think about it with your heart, not your head.”

Now I know it might sound silly, but the next morning a strange sense of calm had come over me. I knew the little girl in my dream was talking about my presentation. I was still nervous, but thankfully, I was no longer terrified. I’d been afraid of sounding stupid in front of everyone, of losing my place, of fumbling over words, of not being able to answer questions intelligently. Some people have vast amounts of knowledge when it comes to WWII, while others have preconceived notions. I wanted to sound like I knew what I was talking about. I wanted to sound smart.

But the little girl in my dreams was right. After all, passion lies in the heart, not in the head. If nothing else, I was passionate about my novel! I’d made the decision to write THE PLUM TREE because I’d grown up listening to my family’s stories about surviving WWII. I believed the average German civilian’s story needed to be told. How could I go wrong talking about something that was so important to me? I reminded myself that I’d done over four years of research and would be able to intelligently answer questions about that time period. When I’m passionate about something, the details stay with me. I could trust myself.

Most importantly, I reminded myself people were coming to see me because they were excited about me being a published author, not to judge me on my speaking skills, or how much I knew about WWII. They couldn’t wait to hear about the inspiration behind my novel and my journey toward publication. (okay, my husband was right) 

In the end, my presentation went a thousand times better than I could have hoped. It was pretty emotional to see over a hundred faces smiling back at me, happy to be there to support me and hear what I had to say. It’s true that you can feel the energy of an audience, and that night I felt nothing but acceptance, excitement and pride; all matters of the heart.

The audience laughed when I read a quote I thought was perfect for the occasion: “The human brain starts working the moment you’re born and never stops until you stand up to speak in public.” They grinned from ear to ear when I took pictures of them holding up their books. There were audible ‘ohs and ahhs’ during my stories about my grandparents and mother. A few people told me afterwards that they were nearly in tears. I had feared the Q & A period and it turned out to be my favorite part. Other people said I was a natural at public speaking. Go figure.

But best of all, my mother, my husband and adult children said they got choked up while I was speaking. They said I did a fantastic job and couldn’t believe what they were hearing and seeing. Since that night, I’ve done two more presentations and find myself looking forward to the next. I've made the decision to trust myself, to think to with my heart and not my head. And  so far, it's worked.

If you’re nervous about your first book presentation, here are a few tips that worked for me:

     1) Before you start, take a deep breath, smile and count to three. It gives you a little time to collect yourself.

     2) Trust yourself. You know your book and your publishing journey better than anyone in the world.

     3) Be yourself. If you try to fake it and act like someone you’re not, it will show.

     4) Remember that you are a published author!! Even with all your daily fears, frustrations and doubts, (feelings that no one in the audience knows about, by the way) the fact that you have a book published is pretty amazing and something to be proud of! Most of the audience is already in awe of your accomplishment.

     5) Break the ice. Thank the people who invited you, thank the audience, and say something funny to put them at ease. Beside the quote above (which you’re free to steal) I asked how many were there because they loved books and reading, and how many were there because they were related to me. (thanks to my BP friend, Julie Kibler) People laughed!

     

     6) Occasionally turn the attention on the audience if you can. Take a picture of them holding up your book! It worked great for me and I’m so glad I have those photos. 

     7) Have a bottle of water with you. Not only will it give you a tiny break, but your mouth will get unbelievably dry. When I said I needed a drink and took a sip from the bottle, everyone chuckled. Even this small thing will make you look personable.

    8) If you have visual aids–old photos, costumes, etc.–use them to break up your talk.

9) If you’re doing a reading along with the presentation, make it   short. Mine was seven minutes and I did it between talking about the inspiration behind my novel and how I got published.  

10)    Don’t practice in front of your family! It will turn out badly and you will lose any confidence you had. 

11)   Think about your presentation with your heart, not your head. You’re passionate about your novel, right? Use that!

     

On being Nice

Sam Thomas

The biggest surprise I’ve had in the run up to the publication of my first book has not been the all-expense-paid world tour, the private jets, adoring crowds, or the personal assistant. (Let’s face it – those things get old after a few months. I’ve heard.) The surprise has been how important it is to be nice, and how eager people are to return the favor. So this post is a paean to book people everywhere, and an exhortation to authors everywhere to go out and meet them.

A few months back, long before my book was going to drop, I wandered into one of our local libraries and asked to talk to the librarian in charge of the History Book Club. Since The Midwife’s Tale is historical fiction, I wanted to introduce myself and offer to meet with the group if they decided to read my book. (Since I assumed that the library system would buy my book anyway, there were no sales to be had: I was just trying to be sociable.) Margaret and I had a great conversation, and then – out of the blue – she asked if I’d be interested in holding my launch at the library. It’s a beautiful space, in a great location so I eagerly agreed. Then Margaret really turned on the jets, putting together an awesome poster for the event, and promising to really beat the bushes for attendees. She also will bring in someone from the local independent book store to sell copies (at a library!), and do her best to get me on the local NPR affiliate’s arts and culture show. All this because: a) She’s awesome; and b) I took the time to stop by and say hello.

The other contact that has been great is Suzanne from our awesome local independent bookstore. I swung by the store soon after I arrived in town, and she proved to be no less awesome than Margaret. She said they’d love to have me come in and sign books, and I offered to put a link on my webpage so that people could order signed copies directly from them. (For what it’s worth, she loved the idea. You should do this, too.) As if this weren’t enough, she then put me in touch with other librarians in town, and put me on the short-list for a spring speaker series that they host in conjunction with another local library. (Fingers crossed on that one.) Why? The same answer as above: she’s awesome, and I took the time to say Hello.

So here’s the moral: Get your butt out there. I know a lot of writers are not extroverts, but it’s worth it to overcome your natural reluctance and go meet people. Even though you know you are kind of a geek, and that publication is as much a product of good luck as good writing, people will be happy to meet you and will love that you have a book coming out. Even if you don’t sell a single copy of your book, you will meet awesome people who love to read, and that is reason enough.

N.B. I wrote this, my fear was that the message I send will be, “Be nice so people will help you.” That’s not it at all.  My argument is that people are awesome, and you should be awesome back.