Hello audience members who would be listening or maybe just staring at their phones if this had been an actual announcement:
Let’s discuss author readings.
I have done two of them recently for my story collection - one of them was carefully planned by professionals and was held in a bookstore. There I sold three copies of my book because all of the 25 people who attended the event were friends who had already bought my book & who had arrived in the bookstore to support me and give me hugs and say hello—for which I was/am still truly overwhelmed and grateful, even now.
The other reading was in a large room packed with people (about 50) who were hanging about, waiting for a mandatory staff meeting when I started reading without preamble. They were not readers, it was not a bookstore. These people were docotrs or accountants, physical trainers and office assistants. They walked into the room hesitantly, some curious and hoping to be included; others worried they were interrupting a previous meeting. They sank carefully onto the metal folding chairs, wincing when they creaked. Giggling if they came with friends, because it felt like something was going on that they were crashing.
No one can escape the lure of a strange narrative (particularly if you have no idea if it is true or not) so I read to an increasing crowd for 30 minutes. It reminded me of the days when I hosted a reading series in swanky bars in lower Manhattan - I always imagined that people who were just drinking and chatting idly in the bar would tune in to the readings and this magic would happen…the whole bar would fall silent, listening, just as this room full of random people waiting for a staff meeting was doing for me.
I stopped abruptly, mid-sentence, at the moment the meeting was to have begun — oh wow that was a cool verb tense, did the word-nerds among you appreciate it? was to have begun? — at this point the entire room gasped and there were moans of dismay (including from the woman who was to have started her meeting right then) and people demanded loudly to know what was going to happen next in the story.
This moment reminded me why I write. I love the human desire to learn something. In social events, that is satisfied by people wanting to know where you work, how you live, and by what means did you arrive at the same place at the same time that they did.
“How was your day” is more than just building connection and trust, it is a human way of learning another story.
For those of you who need stories to have closure, after the meeting, I finished the last two pages to surprising amounts of applause. Afterward, I sold 25 copies of the book including 10 to an awesome woman who wanted her whole book club to discuss the story I had read! Please do this if you have a book club and liked my collection (or even if you don’t like to read in a vacuum) - Get them to buy my book here and I will gladly zoom in after you’ve read and discussed it to satisfy your curiosity and answer any remaining questions.
WRITING NEWS
I’m still not writing. Or at least not writing well. I’m clearing out my mother in law’s apartment with some cousins who have volunteered to help. The process of taking things that were precious to a living being and deciding how to dispose of them (I mean this in the charitable, Jane Austen way) is worse when the object vividly reminds you of the person. My kids have grown a lot — they could barely walk into their Nana’s home at the beginning, but now they congratulate me for the progress they see, and they are helping and feel healed by the care we are taking to ensure that nothing is wasted: clothing goes first to family, then consignment, then charity, then animal shelters (did you know they accept towels and soft blankets?) then finally whatever is left is brought to a fabric recycling center. Nothing is garbage.
See how distracted I get from what I’m writing? Everything new that I’ve tried writing is tinged with despair. But don’t worry. Friends are helping and I am currently surrounded by wildly creative and inspiring people in a setting of great beauty.
Before leaving for this lovely little retreat, I tried to jostle my creative side back to life by attending author readings and art openings. One reading was at a bar in Manhattan where the bartender was a book-lover and ran around silencing people who were talking too loudly—even if they were in the street and not inside the bar. She took pride in the fact that her bar was hosting a reading, and therefore all the authors felt like superstars and each read better than the one before. The bar was captivated, the tips were generous, the books sold, the people became friends, and after the readings, I overheard strangers ordering a second round to discuss the stories they’d heard. I guarantee that if I am ever invited to this reading series I will go. And if I have need of a drink in the area I will also go - just to tip the bartender again.
The other reading was in a truly magnificent and quirky venue in Brooklyn that I’ve been to before. The travel is long for me and I arrived late (trains) and the readings had already begun. I was confused about the admission (when I offered money to the host, I was waved over to the bartender who was busy shaking a martini—during the reading). Authors and their fans generally tip very well (when we are not flat broke and eating drink garnishes in lieu of dinner) but this bartender was (in my opinion) quite rude to the readers. The martini-shaking was extra long and extra loud, there were many lengthy side-conversations with patrons who ordered during the readings, and instead of respectfully whispering, this bartender spoke loudly to be heard over the readers—saying things like “yeah, it’s some kind of book-thing, I don’t know, you don’t have to worry about it, what can I get you” instead of being enthusiastic and encouraging the random stranger to become a regular. The series, after all, goes every week.
I overheard the host telling the readers to speak up because the amps were already up to full volume—but try as they may, they had to compete with the bartender — a shame.
I won’t reveal the name of this Brooklyn bar because the series is truly good and the drinks are our of this world—one can hope that the bartenders are many and that this particular bartender will take book-reading nights off.
Oh and before I forget: mark your calendars for September 15th - I’m reading at Catherine Textier’s famous private Salon. I freaking love this venue. More later!
Random Final Thought:
Russia landed on the moon and India landed on the moon and these landings barely blipped across the media. Question: How many space programs have to land on the moon before the moon needs traffic control? And right this minute, who gets to choose which rocket has right of way in space? Do all of our space programs peacefully talk to each other while our politicians rail in public?
Thank you for your loyalty and your interest, humans. Curiosity is more valuable than you can imagine.
That's a great story! Reading series cam be such hit or miss propositions. Looking forward to your reading at mine!
Milda, Which story did you read that fostered the 25 book sales? I look forward to the newsletter at noon every Sunday and thank you for the many interesting thoughts and observations you have furnished this summer.