Blast from the Past # 15 - September 26, 2005
Hey y'all,
I am so glad I listened to the wisdom of my inner voice, the same inner voice that told me to go back to Seward for the Music and Arts Festival, even though my first tableside storytelling adventure was not immediately profitable. In fact, my first day I told stories with my whole heart and soul into it because I wanted to sell my book, dammit! This was only my second stop on the trip - I had had a couple of things in Homer - I was in full-throttle eager novice mode and people could smell blood...I could sense them smacking their chops as I concluded my story without closing the sale. I sold nothing!
And that really sucked.
And frankly, so does Anchorage.
I did my last storytelling tonight at the Organic Oasis, and it is impossible to do what I'm doing and not do it often in Anchorage, but I just do not resonate with the vibe of this town, it reminds me of the Orlando of my teenage years.... AAIIGGHH!!! So let's get back to the good stuff, Seward.
After that discouraging first day, however, it got better. I sold two books on my second day, and on my third and final, four. So, the word was getting out there. Also, on the third day is when deliverance arrived in the form of Joe Alaniz and saved my demoralized ass by selling fourteen books by the next day. Remember Joe? So that was my Seward experience in early August, but they had just put up all these flyers for this festival and since the booths were cheap, I marked my space.
I woke up to beautiful weather in Seward with the colors in full blast and knew it would be slow at the festival. And I was right, but I learned a few things since my last time in town. I set up my space with blankets, pillows, and although I left the candles in the Brown Beast, I laid out my purple sari over the table with the book displays, and a sign under an orange patterned fake-silk poly scarf that read:
FREE!!!
Hear a story...
Buy a book...
Get Tarot reading...
FREE!!!
I figured if everybody was going to confuse me for a fortuneteller, I might as well give them what they wanted. And golly gee!! To make it even better, people were into the storytelling and into buying the book, but about a quarter of my sales happened because somebody really wanted their cards read and the book was only ten bucks.
I sold twenty two books at full price. And the experience was effortless, at a festival held indoors at the Cruise Ship Terminal, which looked more like a hangar. The turn out was low due to sunny weather - got to get that hiking in because the darkness, rain, and snow are just around the corner. I also sold ten books to the lady who had an all-purpose gift shop/coffeehouse in town, so now the book is being carried in Seward. And I traded one for a bracelet. So in one weekend I sold over thirty books.
Which of course feeds the soul...not to mention the validation that I'm on the right track.
But the best part of this week-end was not the sales - not that I minded those! It was really connecting with people when they sat down to hear a story. The way I see it, I'm laying the foundation for my base of readers for the future, and it is such an intimate way of connecting with them. It worked well at Borders as well. One woman I met this weekend told me this is living the dream. And she's right, I am.
That week-end was so great I didn't mind coming back to the tepid atmosphere at the Organic Oasis. I sold a couple of books and it is happening...one book at a time. One person at a time.
I'm getting better at this, but the tarot cards were a nice touch.
And being a fortune-teller was fun too.
Anyway, Keep in touch...
Montgomery
It's odd the memories that get triggered. Rereading this has two effects on me. First, it makes me remember Joe's obnoxious references to the "sheeple" he referred to that weekend he sold 14 books effortlessly. Not about the people who bought the book particularly, but about well... just about everybody. It pissed me off at the time until I was at the Alaska State Fair and I'm ashamed to say I actually related to what he was talking about in that moment. I'm not proud of the cynical misanthropy behind "Who are the Critcial Mass?" All I can say in my defense is that I was tired and frustrated. That book tour was the adventure of my life, but it was rough.
The second has to do with the kind of person who inspires hybrid words like sheeple. Reading this again makes me want to go back in time and smack Kelly B____ upside the head. She was a friend from college who spent her entire life worrying about what others thought of her, spent years of time and energy on a career she had no passion for - and of course, she was ultimately underpaid - not to mention exhausting herself on getting an MBA to advance in that career she didn't love all because she thought that was expected of her and it made her mother proud. She made some insidious remark about how certain emails about "living the dream" rubbed her the wrong way because she "had" to keep her corporate job to pay her bills and blah, blah, blah. This woman is not married and has no kids. She doesn't "have" to do anything. She had student loans and accrued more going to MBA school and those are a bitch to pay off. But what is the point of going into debt for something you aren't crazy in love with?
Just asking. Needless to say our friendship became a thing of the past a couple of years ago and it had nothing to do with this book tour. In our second to last conversation, she was wailing about feeling completely invisible and it freaked me out enough to talk to a wise woman friend of mine about it. Judy said: "She needs to start looking at people to see them, instead of looking for how they see her. The feeling of being invisible will go away if she does." I thought that was sound advice and with the best of intentions, I passed it on. Because who the hell wants to feel like that? Kelly was not receptive however, saying that women do lose value in society as they get older and that her mom "went through the same thing." She said I "think about things a lot" and "that's a good thing," but that conversations was the last time I ever spoke to her. After a few unreturned calls, I got the hint. I was more stunned than grieved because all I could think was: "Wow. Some people really are quite happy to be completely miserable."
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