Lockdown musings

Well this is weird, isn’t it?

For some authors, being locked at home is a thing we dream of. All that time to write and scheme. But a few weeks in a few of my mates and I started to get itchy. We wanted to meet up, laugh, tell stories, tell stories about stories. Maybe have a few drinks. But we couldn’t. So – instead – we set up a YouTube channel. A place where we can post our stories, hang out virtually. Do something creative with all this time.

 We’re all published by Fahrenheit press, and realised that the crisis was impacting us all in different ways. Personally, mentally, and creatively. And so we decided to get together and create something. Cos that’s what creatives do. On FahreNoirAtTheBar you’re going to find some amazing authors reading excerpts from their books. Or talking about the stories behind the books.

So far, we’ve readings up there from Jo Perry, Anthony Neil Smith, Cal (no relation) Smyth, Ariana Den Bleyker, Ian Ayris, Paul Heatley, Nick Quantrill, Matt Phillips and Myself. And future plans include more authors drinking cocktails, sharing drama, excitement, comedy, and maybe even sharing goodies and prizes too.

The best way to ensure you don’t miss out is to head over there now and subscribe.

Go on, I’ll wait.. Click HERE

Anyway, the ‘viewing figures’ have been really encouraging, the comments uniformly positive, and the collegiate, supportive and kind way that so many writers have come together to make it happen; the enthusiasm with which they have filmed and uploaded their clips. These things are slivers of pure, sparkling glitter in the night.

It’s early days yet. We have amazing ideas for what comes next. Of course we have: Did I mention we’re creatives? We also (luckily) have some amazingly smart experienced heads who have cautioned us against barrelling into madness, and so we’re going to slowly and steadily expand the site.

Thankfully, some of my crazier ideas have been supportively but definitively taken out the back and given one in the head by my colleagues in our loose revolutionary collective (think The Committee of Public Safety, only with fewer powdered wigs, and better personal hygiene. I think. I mean, they’re all on Zoom and YouTube, so they could be HONKING for all I know…)

But I digress.

Frequently.

We may all be locked inside, but our books are still out there.

They’re still for sale from Amazon or – even better – directly from Fahrenheit-press.com, who are still delivering beautifully gift-wrapped books.

They’re in ebook if you want an immediate hit.

They’re in paperback if you like the physical <and who – in these times – doesn’t freakin’ LONG for a bit of the old physical>, with the added bonus that – if you order the paperback straight from fahrenheit-press.com you’ll get an email with the download link for the ebook so you can start reading while you wait.

At least one of mine is in deluxe limited edition numbered hardback (if it hasn’t sold out) which comes with a unique forward I wrote about the impact this novel had on my life.

One of my dumbest housebound purchases – after I’d gone online in the early days to discover that tinned goods were going for more, per gram, than Peruvian flake in the week before New York Fashion week – was four hundred quid’s worth of Gin. I cancelled the order, mostly cos I don’t think I have the space to store four large one’s worth of gin, but also because – really? Me and a truckful of gin? How will that end well?

But books? Oh books are still eminently purchasable, consumable. Eminently right; for where else – when you are confined to your home – can you hang out at a dive bar in Borough, or drink in the casino on a reservation, or be in the middle of the Balkans, or in the mind of a serial killer, or in a car en route to Vegas for a quickie divorce?

Books.

Read them. Buy them. Immerse yourself in them.

Stay home, stay well, stay sane, and know – always – that you are loved.

Dx

***

Derek Farrell is the author of ‘Death of a Diva’ ‘Death of a Nobody,’ ‘Death of a Devil’ ‘Death of an Angel,’ and the novella "Death of a Sinner," all published by Fahrenheit Press.
The books have been described as “Like The Thin Man meets Will & Grace.” “Like M.C. Beaton on MDMA,” and – by no less an expert than Eric Idle – as “Quite Fun.”

Derek’s jobs have included: Burger dresser, Bank teller, David Bowie’s paperboy, and Investment Banker, and he has lived and worked in New York, Hong Kong, Istanbul, Tel Aviv, Prague, Dublin, Johannesburg and London.

He’s married to the most English man on the planet and lives in West Sussex. They have no goats chickens children or pets, but they do have every Kylie Minogue record ever made.

Ain't No Party Like A Book Store Party

Switchblade Magazine is one of the coolest new crime fiction mags out there right now, and Book Show is one of the coolest indie book shops out there right now - so it only makes sense to smash them together and have a good time.

I've attended a handful of events at Book Show, and recently was part of the Just To Watch Them Die: Crime Fiction Inspired by The Songs of Johnny Cash launch there. It's a killer little shop with a ton of amazing books, cool knick knacks, and zines I haven't seen anywhere else. It's totally worth a visit, and a Switchblade reading is the best excuse I can think of.

If you're in Southern California, you should come see us and buy some stuff from Book Show!

So you want to do a reading

By Steve Weddle

A thousand years ago, when Country Hardball first hit the shelves, I had a calendar loaded with readings and signings. People were very nice, those who invited me into their places of business and those who took time out of their Thursday night to drive into the city to see me talk about me for 45 minutes at Fountain Bookstore. the Mysterious Bookshop, One More Page Books, and elsewhere.

I screwed up a few things, of course, but I also had people who were kind enough to warn me of some potential problems. Here are a few tips and tricks I hope are helpful to you new authors.

1) Don't bring books to readings to give away.

Giving away a copy of your book at your reading seems like a no-brainer, doesn’t it? You’ll want to turn the brain back on for a second, though, and consider what would help the venue most. Are you having the reading at a bookstore? Maybe you’ll want to pony up for a gift certificate to the store. When I launched, I gave away a cap and a t-shirt and some other goodies. I knew, for a true fact for serious, that most folks that night would be buying my book, so I wasn’t too worried.

Steve Weddle and Ben LeRoy at Fountain Bookstore

I’ve been to readings where not too many folks buy my book, and I’ve been to readings where the author doesn’t sell any books. So book sales aren’t always guaranteed.

Eventually, I realized that I wanted to give away a copy of a book by someone not me at events. So, I tried to do that when I remembered. Gift cards are great, too. You can always talk to the bookstore owner or manager and ask what would be a cool giveaway.

If you’re holding the reading in a bar, maybe give away a booze gift certificate or a bar t-shirt. Bowling alleys, brothels, hardware stores – gift cards make good giveaways. Support the folks who support you.

2) Get sticky notes for the books you sign.

Someone with you (the store manager or your spouse or a random Lithuanian ventriloquist from the neighborhood deli) needs to place sticky notes on the title page of the books to be signed with the person’s name right there. FOR SHERRI. FOR MATT. Whatevs.

I was signing books one night for some folks and I just kept blanking. I’d look up at people and couldn’t remember names. I mean, for Cliff’s sake, it’s a stressful time.

Me: So who should I make this out to?
Her: Just to me. I’m so proud of you.
Me: Um, so your name here?
Her: Yes. I can’t wait to tell everyone.
Me: Yeah, so, uh, like the spelling? I want to get it right.
Her: Oh, just the normal spelling.

This went on for seven minutes, this back and forth. Seven minutes doesn’t sound like much, but good gracious it was. Eventually, my Aunt Edna realized what was going on, but it was painful for us both.

3) Send signed copies to your blurbers, you goofball.

I nearly screwed this up, but I think I ended up OK. A couple of folks who blurbed my book came to a reading and bought the book there, and I wasn’t sure what to do at that point. Send a thank you note? It’s probably what Joelle would do. Instead, I just bought extra copies of their books for giveaways here at DSD and elsewhere.

But, for the most part, once I got the hardbacks in, I wrote a ‘thanks’ in the copies and mailed it off to the folks who were kind enough to take the time out of their lives and say nice things about my book.

Honestly, blurbing can be quite a favor. You’re saying to someone, “Hey, would you take time away from your family and your job and your own writing and spend some time, not just reading my book, but coming up with something nice and clever to say in order to help me out? Kthxbye.” Really, it’s asking quite a bit of people, and the least you can do – the very friggin least you can do – is send them a copy of the book with something nice scrawled in there with your signature.

4) Give some people two copies

You’re going to send copies of your book to people. And, yeah, you’re probably going to reach high for a few copies.  As Bob Browning wrote: "Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?"  You’ll write “Dear Mr. King” on the title page or “To Ms. Evanovich.” (You’ll likely be so nervous you’ll screw up a copy or two before you get one you feel OK sending off. (Or so I’ve heard.))  That’s cool. Take your shots.

That said, you’ll have some people – mentors, professors, friends, magazine columnists you met once at a party, ministers – who you want to send a copy to. You might think about sending an extra signed copy with a sticky note inside suggesting they give it to someone who might like it. Essentially, you’ve just created a small army of hand-sellers. (It’s a cool trick I stole from someone on the Internet.)

Anyway, do what you want, of course. Read from the book. Don’t read from the book. Plant people in the audience to ask questions you want to answer. Hire a streaker. Give out chocolates. Whatever.

Basically, what I’m saying is that you want to be nice about it and make things easier for folks. These things can get pretty painful in your soul, can cause you to sweat right through your fancy $89 new sport coat from Kohl’s and spend the rest of the night hoping no one notices that you’re not lifting your arms.

Relax. Plan a little. And, of course, don’t try to do any of this without substantial pharmaceutical help.

Thomas Pynchon: On Tour in the USA

By Steve Weddle

As Scott and Joelle mentioned this weekend, the DSD blog is now a year old, which means we oughta stop crapping our pants this year.  (It’s Monday, folks. You expected we’d start being classy on Mondays now?)

We plan to have our collection for you this month. It’s called TERMINAL DAMAGE, a series of eight, linked stories that touch each other. (Haha-hoho-heehee. Oh, and don’t get like that with me, now. Bryon’s story has a stripper, so don’t you go starting with me. Jay’s has a wrestler. I can’t remember whether those two stories collide, but I should probably go back and re-look.) Right now we’re negotiating a mountain of cash for the collection, with all proceeds to benefit The Human Fund. 

This last week of the DSD first-year has been batcrap crazy. Have you seen these Kindles? Seems you can now buy machines that allow to read books. Weird, huh? All this time I had all these books in my house and no way to read them. Now, for $189 I have a machine that allows me to read them.

Also, newspapers and magazines. What? You know all about this? I’m behind? Well, fine.

So I’m sitting out back of the bakery waiting for them to throw out the day-old bagels and I’m reading The New Yorker on my Kindle. (Hooray for birthday money.) I’m reading an article about this dandy of an entertainer called Brad Paisley. Nice looking fella. Sings all pretty the way the women in the suburbs like. And every time I make a joke about him, he’s probably made another ten million dollars. And not so much from his recordings. Sure, people download “[Insert some joke title here to see if anyone notices]” for a dollar online or buy his CDs in WalMart, but that isn’t where most of his money comes from. The dude makes serious bank by flying around the country, waking up at some coliseum and singing those same songs to tens of thousands of people who’ve paid hundreds of dollars to see him. To sing the song you listened to on the way to the concert. That you’ve already heard fifty times on the radio.

Let me try to explain. You fire up the 8-track and listen over and over again to “Cluster Pluck” (which I think is a play on the term “Cluster Fuck.” I have not heard the song, so I cannot in good conscience comment on the aptness of the title. I assume the word-play “Pluck” for “Fuck” is some sort of show of Paisley’s cleverness.) or “What a Friend We Have In Jesus” (a traditional song off the same album, undoubtedly as much a testament to Paisley’s Christianity as the “Cluster Fuck” song is to his cleverness).

Anyway, people pay money – much money – to hear Paisley perform LIVE the songs they’ve heard him perform on the album. Now, I’ve never knowingly heard any of his songs. I’m sort of loopy at the dentist’s where they do play the suburban country station, so it’s possible something from "Sleepin' on the Foldout" has seeped into my brain. I don’t have anything against Paisley and from The New Yorker article (which wasn’t written by Sasha Frere-Jones, so might well be trustworthy) he seemed like a nice young man.

I would not pay to see Brad Paisley perform because I’m not a fan of his work. Keep that in your head for a second. Now add in the idea that Paisley makes a ton of money from his concerts, as most big-name performers do. Their albums are meant to kick off their national tours, where they make the real money.

And they’re supposed to play the songs just as they sound on the albums. God forbid Dylan should plug in or Bruce Springsteen should go a cappella for “Thunder Road.”

With all the craziness in the book world, what would it take for authors to make bank on book tours? Brad Paisley makes money touring. Why can’t a best-selling author?

Can you imagine if BLOOD’S A ROVER was used to propel James Ellroy on his big national tour? Sure, twenty bucks for the book, but it’s two hundred to see him read from it. Would you pay for that? To see him perform the same chapters you’ve read? You know full well that the show will include Mr. Ellroy’s discussion about the size of his penis and insults aimed at Bill Clinton. As entertaining as a Brad Paisley concert? Would you have to have a light show included?

Why does Brad Paisley get serious buckage for performing while Charlie Huston doesn’t?

Heck, how many times have you heard about a writer you like having a hard time putting butts in chairs at the Barnes and Noble. And that’s probably about 30 seats to fill.

I guess David Sedaris can sell tickets to his readings. Who else? Can Laura Lippman or Michael Connelly?

Janet Evanovich just signed a four-book deal in which she was promised $50 million. Plus, she gets a million-dollar bonus for each home run she hits once she passes 30 in a season. And Eddie Van Halen has to come to her house and take out all the green M&Ms from her bowl. Could she get twenty-thousand people paying $200-per to hear her read?

I turn on CSPAN-2 and see historians at book festivals talking to half-empty (half-full, for you hippies) tents and wonder how many books they’re going to sell from that.

I paid good money to see Hank Williams, Jr. play. I’d pay more to see Hank3 play. I’ve paid for PIL, Deadeye Dick, Violent Femmes, Sonny Rollins, and many more. Heck, I even paid to see the Smithereens. Many, many other people did, too.

Why can’t Charlie Huston or JT Ellison make their livings by flying around the country giving readings to sold-out coliseums?

Who would you pay $200 to see read?

Readin, Bleedin, and Nod

By Steve Weddle

You could see it by the way he swallowed too much. The way he let everyone at the reading get in line ahead of him. The way he mumbled to himself, practicing what he was going to say.

There was going to be trouble.

I was over to the side by the shelves, hanging out, waiting to see if he needed to be tackled – like this was how I wanted to spend my Thursday night.

“To Rodney,” he said when he handed the book to the author. “I’m really your biggest fan.”

“Thanks, Rodney,” the author said, signing, then handing the book back.

“I mean, you probably get that a lot.”

“Always nice to hear. Glad you like the books.” He capped his pen, slid it into his pocket. Started to push away from the table.

“Oh, yes," Rodney said. "You’re what got me into writing.”

Yeah. I cracked my neck, bent my legs to keep loose. This might not end well. I hadn’t put an elbow into anyone’s temple in months, but I wanted to be ready.

The author looked around for his helper. She’d gone to the coffee bar to get him a chai latte. He couldn’t decide whether to stand up.

“Maybe you’ve heard of me,” Rodney said. “I run a Web site called The [something mumbled]-cy.” Prophecy. Contingency. Something like that. The Moon Fart Prophecy, for all I knew. I guess I don’t pay attention.

“Oh, well,” the author said. “Good. That’s good.”

“I thought maybe you might like to read some of my stories. I printed a book. Sold out, too. My teacher said it’s a cross between Harlan Ellison and Jerry Seinfeld.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

“I thought maybe you might like to look at it. I mention you in the acknowledgements.”

“Oh, uh,” the author took the coffee from his helper who’d just gotten back to the card table. “Sure, if you can leave it with,” he leaned over to look, “Marcie here, she can mail it to me.”

“That’s great. I thought you might like to look at it.” Yeah, we got that, Rodney.

The author turned, knocked over a couple of stacks of his books and a poster of himself on the edge of a dragon’s fire, and sloshed his coffee all the way to the back of the store.

Rodney harrumphed at having to give the manuscript to Marcie, who took it, stacked it on about ten more just like it, and walked to the back.

Rodney turned to walk out of the store. “Think he’ll ever look at it?”

“I don’t know, man,” I said. “But you have to take a shot. C’mon. I’ll buy you a drink on the way home. We gotta be at Mom’s in an hour.”


--
So I was thinking about the different kinds of folks who come to readings.

The writer: Has written something and wants help with it. Or help promoting it. Just the name of an editor. Or agent. One of those publishing people. Or wonders why your crap gets published while hers is too good for an agent.

The reader: Has read all the books and wonders why in your first book the narrator’s mother was called “Nancy” and in the second book she’s “Nanci.” Or wonders why in this new book that people are just buying now for the first time but that she’s read because her aunt works in publishing, well, why did you make the school teacher be the murderer? That was a completely unexpected twist on page 300.

The wanderer: Heard there was something going on and thought there might be crackers with that soft cheese covered in nut bits.

I was at the Jeff VanderMeer reading in Richmond, VA last week. Most everyone was really nice, though I’ll admit it was touch and go there for a second or two. There was no one there like Rodney. I'd have TwitPic-ed the heck out of that.

Mr. VanderMeer talked about his book tour, gave some insights into writing. Charming. Bright-eyed. He couldn't have been more entertaining if he'd have been juggling drunk armadillos.

Ever since Dave posted here about the folks who come to his readings saying they could stuff write better than his if only they had time, I was thinking about all the other types of folks who come to readings. And why. They’ve spent 400 pages with you and want to see what you’re like in person? They heard your book was cool and wanted to give you a shot? Are you looking for your community? Other fans of Jay Stringer or whomever? What's the point of a reading? The jibber-jabber on the InnerWebs is that readings are dead because they cost too much (thousands) to sell too few books (5-ish).

I've been star-struck at readings of favorite writers and completely dorked it up. No, seriously. I have. No, really. Oh, I see. You're making fun. Oh, haha.

Anyway, why do you got to readings?

If you give readings, what kind of audience do you want?
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