I got hit with a case of the dry heaves when I walked into the
exhibition hall. There I stood, in my slept in clothes, getting out of my slept
in vehicle, with a display made up of bricks and lumber and fabric, walking
through the likes of Penguin Random House, Disney Books, Scholastic to set up
my wares. I felt, for only the second time since I started doing this and
definitely the most extreme, like an imposter. I mean, listen, I know there are
small presses here locally whose owners don’t like me. Still, I don’t have a
problem walking into a room where they are and setting up shop, because I know
that I deserve to be there, every bit as much as most and more than some. I
know there are authors who don’t much care for my hawking, but I don’t feel out
of place. Here, I waited for sirens and lights to go off, for someone to catch
on to the fact that I obviously, patently didn’t belong. I Messaged librarian
friends, looking for reassurance. I put some vague panicked messages on
Facebook. Then, I set up my booth and we did what we do. Since then, people
have been asking me how it went, and the honest answer is, “I don’t know.”
I don’t know because this weekend wasn’t about ready sales.
Sales on the spot. Foolishly, I had thought it would be. One man laughed. “Did
you think they were going to buy for their libraries on the spot?” Uh, yeah,
actually I did. In fact, in the world in which I’ve cut my teeth, we have a
term for those who say they will buy later. We call them bebacks and they are
generally dealt with with a roll of the eyes or worse. In this environment,
though, I had an intelligent, charming man next to me who was giving books away
for FREE who got shot down because the participants didn’t want to have to
carry the book. (This man was Chris Beakey, by the way. Awesome man. Excellent writer.You can find him here.) So, I’m watching sales slowly trickle in. Not huge, but they
are happening.
I don’t know because I have some prospects on the line that
could change our publishing house in huge ways. But I don’t know if they will
turn into anything or not. I came home from Printer’s Row Literary Festival
convinced that I had made the kind of connections that would change our world,
and they were nothing. Yet, I have people reaching out to me. People saying
that we were the highlight of the event for them. Did you get that? A veritable
smorgasboard of free books, authors doing signings, Neal Freaking Patrick
Harris, John Lewis, and I was the highlight? I. .. don’t really know how to
deal with that. Especially when, as I said, I felt like such an imposter. I can’t
talk more about them now, not until they are done deals, but there’s some
potentially exciting things happening.
I don’t know because while I thought I was an imposter,
other people were amazed by our story. By the tenacity and grit that we’ve
shown. Not everyone. We had eyes rolled at us more than once by academics who informed us that speculative fiction isn't "real" fiction. I had one woman told us our books are ordinary. Still, I made some friends, business aside, that I truly hope to keep in touch
with. More than that, I was told over and over again what an inspiration we
were. Which was really different from the “I” word that I had in mind.
It was not ready money. Financially, at least for the short
term, it was a bit of a bust. It was emotionally and physically exhausting. But
by the end of the weekend I could breathe because we did it. .And we did it
well. So, how did it go? I don’t know, but I think it went all right.
