Blast from the Past #5

Eternal Novicehood and the Saving Grace of Good Friends - August 2005

Hey y'all,

This road trip was shaping up to be an exercise in humiliation until Joe
showed up. For instance, in Homer, at my first open mike, I had right in
front of my stage the Christian kiddie contingent. They were there to play
cards, talk loud, and make smart-ass speeches after different musicians
played just to show how cute they were, while the folks that were actually
listening attentively were behind them.

I was lucky though, they got even more obnoxious when the guy after me went
up to play his guitar and sing.

At the Land's End in Homer, my first night was the exact same time and date
as the post-Memorial service for Drew Scalzi, a former state Representative,
so everyone there was going to that. One couple tried to get me to go
upstairs, have some food and drink and let people know I was there, but
there's just something about going to somebody's funeral, especially someone
that I'd never met, to hustle some business that is...distasteful to say the
least. The same couple came down and bought a book - probably out of
pity because nobody showed up that day, and the wife suggested that I
should come in the winter, people are looking for things to do during that
time.

The next day, a couple of acquaintances and a couple of total strangers
showed up. I sold two books and all I could think was that it was a mighty
fine thing that I did not pay a dime for that space and that my beginner's
luck had run out, and I'm back in the time and space of being a
novice...again.

I packed up the Brown Beast (that is burning oil, but other than that is
running beautifully) and headed for Seward.

It seems like every year I decide to do something different that I know
nothing about, just so I can be a novice all over again. Perhaps Zen
Buddhists would applaud my embrace of Zen mind by constantly being a
beginner; but given that I learn by making many many mistakes, the
novice/beginner period can be agony.

In Seward, at the Resurrect Art Coffee House, I had set up tableside
storytelling for the sake of promoting my book. The owners are every
artist's dream come true as they support the arts and would let me do
whatever I wanted - so I set up for three days, hoping positive word of
mouth would help.

Day one, told several stories and sold...nothing.

Granted, I'm sure it could have been worse, I could have been insulted on
top of it. But to be in a place for four hours and have people nod politely
at my efforts is...awful.

Why would any sane person put herself through all this?

It didn't help that I had a Homer friend tempting me to go back to Homer, go
charter fishing and party. It was so demoralizing, I almost went, but I
made a commitment and as much as it hurt, that commitment must be kept. I
gritted my teeth to bear it on Thursday, where at least the day would be
mercifully short.

Told two stories to four people...sold two books. I perked up a bit. I've
survived painful learning curves before and it was always better. I even
sold two more books to a waitress and one of her followers at the bar where
I refreshed myself with a beer after hiking.

And then came deliverance...

Friday brought the arrival of Joe, who has absolutely no boundaries, and
therefore, no inhibitions. A born balls-to-the-wall salesman type. For
those who know Joe, after fishing in Bristol Bay, his dreds got infested
with bit of fish and he said every morning when he woke up his head smelled
like fish and he couldn't take it anymore. So he shaved them off, and his
beard, and damn he now looks like a respectable young man. I almost didn't

recognize him.

He listened to a couple of stories, and even stopped being a smart-ass half
way through the first one. A Colorado woman who calls herself "Soozie
Creamcheese," bought a book, and the two over-friendly studs I'd met at the
youth hostel bought none. And Joe took it upon himself to take a few books
and go to the bars. He took four and within 45 minutes, came back with
forty bucks and left with ten. By the time people were only caring about
getting drunk, he sold seven. While I stayed put, told more stories and
sold two more.

I'm busting my butt telling stories and trying to make a profound psychological

connection to strangers and this is what Joe does: "Dude, do you like fairy tales? How about dark fairy tales? Then you should really buy this book...." and he usually is talking to a female he'd like to sleep with.

He may not get in their pants, but damn! He can sell my books! I just might have to pack up Joe in my luggage... Thank God for good friends.

Montgomery

Ooohhh, that was so painful! And that was only the beginning. When I think back to that year, I remember it as the most humbling way to strengthen my ego imaginable. Just picture streams of people going by, smiling politely, if they even look at you and most of them don't give a hoot that this is my book, my dream, they couldn't care less. Then think of those who listen and nod politely as I'm telling an excerpt from the book and pouring my soul into it, promising they'll come back to get one late and they don't. For a hypersensitive type like myself, that was hard! But then there are those people whose eyes light up when they listen and they're excited to buy the book, and later you hear that they've passed it around to their friends. Actually that happened on this Seward trip. Two young women listened to a story, bought a book, and then passed it around to all their friends, making notes in the margins. That was a sweet moment, the kind that made it all worthwhile. In the long run, I learned to forget about the indifference and rejection I went through most of the time and to live for the Yes! And that's where I kept my focus.

It really threw me off guard how hard it was to sell my own work because in the past, I'd been really good at sales (#1 Spaghetti Dinner ticket saleskid at St. Charles Catholic School four years in a row!). I thought something so close to my heart, my dream, no problem, and I was so wrong. In fact, the fact that I cared so much worked against me. Months later, I was on a plane filled with computer salesmen and they told me that the producer can never sell the product. Because they know too much about it and get bogged down in the details, whereas a salesman can just make a pithy one-liner that sells the deal.

Having Joe there really showed just how difficult it is to do something like along. People are uneasy around the lone wolf and it's easier to generate energy and excitement when you're a group - even if the group is a small one and people respond positively to that. I'm grateful for that year because I gained a perspective most people never do and grew a thicker skin.

Any fear of rejection I ever had is Ggggooonnnneeee.... and that's a very empowered place to be. Thanks for reading.