Greg Brady (sorta) endorses my book!

(727 words)

Not only did I meet Greg Brady on Sunday, I cajoled him into provide a celebrity endorsement.

“‘Use All The Crayons!’is to self-improvement humor books what the ‘Johnny Bravo!’ episode is to ‘The Brady Bunch!’ It’s edgy, funny and fills every page with warmth in the same joyful abundance that let Marcia naturally begin filling out her sweaters in Season 4!”

Of course, because Greg Brady is fictional, the endorsement has the same legal binding as if it were attributed to Bugs Bunny, that is if Bugs Bunny had a thing for the adolescent Maureen McCormick.

Barry Williams, in fact, said nothing of the sort. Had I asked him to, he might have.

He was a very good sport and from my observations said yes to every attendee request and, guaranteed, today the Facebook pages of more than 1,000 paunchy Westmoreland County baby boomers are festooned with pictures of Williams, 60, smiling with strangers.

Like! Like! Like!

I’d need extensive plastic surgery to smile as much as Williams did from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday at the 20th annual Westmoreland Home Show at the county fairgrounds. I was there both days to sell books

Selling books with the word “crayon” in the title to homeowners who are there to get bargain basement deals on things like thermal windows and, well, bargain basements, is not for shrinking violets.

I think I saw, by the way, rows of shrinking violet seedlings along Gardener’s Gangway in the 4H building.

My booth was right across from the friendly folks representing a Pittsburgh home remodeling outfit. They were very aggressive without being obnoxious.

If someone said, no thanks, we don’t need new windows, one would ask about doors. If they said the doors were new, they asked about kitchen cabinets. If those were shipshape, they’d ask about bathroom tiles.

If they said the whole house was fine, they’d ask about the garage.

I just once saw them stumped. They asked a woman if she needed new windows/doors/flooring/roofing/insulation/etc.

The woman said no.

The sales rep persisted with her interrogation until the woman informed her that last year the house had burned to the ground and the insurance company had come through with an entirely new domicile with all the modern furnishings. 

“So, no, thank you,” she said. “There’s nothing you can do for us.”

A look of such panicky desperation came across the rep’s face I began preparing a response if she dashed to my booth and asked if I had some gasoline and a book of matches.

That’s what I was up against.

I initially hoped to sell 20 books both days. I sold 8 on Saturday and 18 on Sunday.

But I found the time valuable and made some new friends among the authors and artists and the people who stopped to buy or just chat.

Plus, I seized the promoted opportunity to speak on the very same stage from which Barry Williams addressed maybe 120 raucous fans.

I had 2.

I’m not kidding. And I think they’d just stopped to rest and were too polite to leave when I began my yapping.

Their names are John and Kathy.

Really, I was pleased with how I did. I could have let the situation demoralize me. Instead, I sat on the edge of the stage and ran through a 20-minute jiffy version of my normal presentation. 

Afterwards, they came to my booth and bought four books!

So Barry Williams maybe earned, let’s say $2,000 in merchandise and an appearance fee of triple that amount, but my market penetration dwarfed his.

I just need to find a way to snug the attendance gap.

Having him there did cause a happy stir.

Everyone enjoys a proximity with fame. 

But I couldn’t help but wonder how the man so many people adore for their heirloom memories feels about the nostalgic redundancy that’s been baked into his entire adult life.

It’d be as if you spent your every waking moment having to re-live what happened in the 7th grade.

He never looked buoyant.

He looked obligated.

But the pleasant smile never left his face. If he resents what his life’s become, you’d never know it.

Maybe I’ve been wrong all these years.

I’ve always said Gregory Peck was our greatest actor.

Related  . . .

I’m a disgraceful DIYer — and I don’t care!

Selling crayon books to Steelers  & Bigfoot/UFO fans

My worst book signing ever

Bullies, my ‘stache & insane reaction to my speech

“Use All The Crayons!” A 10-star review

My talk to 200 8th graders a near debacle (at first)

My Saturday speech a surprising sell-out

My rock star requirements for Greensburg library book signing Saturday

(784 words)

The friendly woman from the Greensburg/Hempfield Area Library e-mailed yesterday to see if I’d be needing anything for my 2 p.m. Saturday talk there.

I told her I was glad she’d gotten in touch.

I’d be requiring a security team of at least 10 off-duty police officers, four plain clothes, all trained in crowd control and instinctual threat detection. A bomb-sniffing dog, preferably a German Shepherd, who I’d want stationed near the state-of-the-art metal detectors she’d need to install just inside the library foyer.

There will be pyro so she’ll need to alert the local fire marshall.

I’d be needing a case of Evian water bottled no later than February 2012 and chilled to 43 degrees. Why 43-degrees? Because 43 is Pittsburgh Steeler Troy Polamalu’s number and I want her to arrange to have him there, too.

I told her I understood it was short notice, but I’d be needing six women from the local gyms -- two blond, two brunette, a red head and a bald chick -- to carry me to the stage the way the perfumed eunuchs used to carry the Roman emperors to the coliseum.

And I’d like some inflatable beach balls and a bowl of M&Ms with all the brown ones removed.

Oh, and I’d like a podium.

She said she’d get me the podium.

The real reason I was requesting so much outlandish on-site personnel is because I’m always nervous no one will show up.

The Tribune-Review was kind enough to do an advance on my appearance and the librarian told me 10 peopled already signed up, bless their hearts.

What can attendees expect?

About an hour of me talking.

There will be no fireworks. No powerpoint displays. No fancy graphics. No beach balls.

Why not?

Because I’m convinced there is nothing more compelling than the sight of a talking human being with something to say.

Whether or not I’m that human being is yet to be determined.

I’m resolved to become very good at public speaking and I believe I’m on my way. I’ve probably done about two dozen public speaking engagements in the last 18 months. They’re never the same. They’re never scripted.

And with the book doing well, I’m making a push to do more. My tech guys are adding a new “Motivational Humorist/Public Speaker” crayon to the “Use All The Crayons!” homepage.

The section will include proposals about why businesses, civic and philanthropic organizations and schools and universities should pay me to come to talk to their supporters, employees and students.

Audacious, isn’t it?

Maybe not. I see a lot of really dull people making a really nice living appearing on TV and being invited to address crowds of listeners eager for something interesting to hear.

I see them and think, man, I could do better than that.

My recently re-published book just earned its second 5-star (out of 5) review from another industry review mainstay in two weeks. An agent is shopping it around to major publishers.

And I hear near daily from someone who loves the book. Your reactions embolden me. Now’s the time for me to really sell it -- and myself.

So I really should spend the day preparing some sort of formal speech so I won’t fall flat. I should hone my phrasings, game plan my gestures and envision what I’ll do to somehow hold the attention of an audience for 45 to 60 minutes.

Instead, I’ll have some lunch at The Pond and then putter around in the office until it’s respectable to head back down to the bar to watch golf and engage in the pointless Friday bull sessions more ambitious sorts would never dream of attending.

Then I’ll take a pizza home to watch the opening ceremonies with my three darlings and the stupid dog.

I won’t do any prep until about an hour before tomorrow when I’ll jot down about ten key words that’ll trigger stories I want to tell.

I may or may not use them. I plan on being completely extemporaneous.

That makes it so much more fun, for both speaker and audience, I hope.

Afterwards, I’ll be selling the $15.95 book for just $10 each. I want to make sure it’s affordable for anyone and have found the low price is an incentive for people to buy multiple copies.

Plus, the math is way easier.

So I do hope you’ll show up and bring some friends. I’ll do my very best to keep it lively.

Oh, and just in case, someone please bring an inflatable beach ball.

We can all hit it back and forth if things get boring.

Related . . .

Mom’s coming to my Lebo book signing!

Bar book signing Thursday

Arnold Palmer NOT attending my book signing

Book signing recap & The Great Chris Rodell

Greensburg B&N book signing Friday w/ all my Inverted Jennys!

(727 words)

Pack up the sleeping bags, the inflatable air mattresses and your long john jammies. Temperatures are expected to dip below freezing tonight and that cement sidewalk can chill your bones.

What’s the occasion?

I’m signing books Friday from 4 to 8 p.m. at the Greensburg Barnes & Noble!

What? You were expecting Springsteen tickets?

Other writers may post Facebook notes politely asking friends to share news of their book signings and maybe make time to stop by.

That’s not good enough for me.

I want riots, stampedes, hysterical teens dancing on flaming couches.

And what do I intend to do to warrant such newsworthy commotion?

I promise to wear all those crazy rubber band bracelets my daughters have made for me the past three months.

And nothing else!

Fear not. The girls are so industrious with their looms not a speck of flesh will be exposed. I’ll look like a rainbow-colored Michelin Man. You can toss me off the roof and I won’t stop bouncing until I’m clear past the Red Lobster.

Any other reason why anyone should show up?

Yes! The store has about 30 collector’s edition copies of what will go down in history as the “Inverted Jenny” of “Use All The Crayons!”

The Inverted Jenny is the famous 1918 postage stamp that featured an upside down airplane. The image represents the most famous mistake in stamp history. One mint-conditioned rarity in 2007 was auctioned for $977,500 or about what every single Forever Stamp today would need to sell for the USPS to turn a profit.

As I’ve mentioned, the book’s done so well that the publishing entity gave it a second print makeover and is lavishing it with more than $4,000 worth of marketing and promotional oomph. It’s being entered in award contests and presented to top book buyers who’ll decide if it’s worthy of national distribution.

The biggest change is apparent on the back cover bio that hypes all the magazines for whom I’ve written. All the changes turned out to be very painstaking. That’s why I was so deflated when they sent me for approval the very first copy of what the “new” book.

See, I’d added two lines. The first line immediately after the listed magazines is: “He’ll write for anyone who pays him.”

Somehow the key second line was not there. That line is: “He is a PROSEtitute.”

I was crestfallen because the first doesn’t work without the second. Without the punchline, the first line makes me look like a money-grubbing hack, which I most definitely am not, even though my wife, I’m sure, wishes I were.

This pushed back the book’s re-release by about two weeks.

But the Greensburg Barnes & Noble sells so many copies of the book -- and the fact leaves me overjoyed -- an order for 30 snuck in between corrections.

Thus, my Inverted Jenny.

I’m not saying it’ll be worth $977,500 in year 2108, but there’s a chance it’ll be worth maybe double what 24 used copies are right now being offered for on Amazon.

So that means one day the books could be worth two pennies!

The book has come so far in just one year -- and thank you one and all for helping make that happen.

Just last year I was actually including in promotional material the line, “I can’t promise you’ll enjoy “Use All The Crayons!” but we’re pretty sure it won’t make your head hurt!”

Now, thanks to so many of you, I simply tell people that everyone loves my book.

Saying so used to make me uncomfortable, as it sounds so conceited. No more.

Now I know I’m merely telling the truth.

So everybody, one and all, please stop by and buy a book for a friend. They’ll love it, I swear. Or maybe stop by and say hello.

And I have one additional request: Everyone bring along at least one nimble friend named Jenny so I can stand them all on their heads.

I’ll post the picture on my website over the caption, “Chris Rodell and all his inverted Jennys!”

It promises to be another triumph for what was one of the world’s most rejected books and further evidence that with a good idea and the support of friends and loved ones it’s still possible to turn the book industry on its head.

Related . . .

Bar book signing!

Arnold Palmer NOT attending my book signing

How I became a PROSEtitute

Mom’s coming to my Lebo book signing!

Christmas book sales & what I sign

(827 words)

I put the finishing touches on my first big Christmas order for my book yesterday. It was 25 copies destined for friends of a sweet central Pennsylvania woman I’d never met.

She was given a copy of the book last year and enjoyed it so much she wanted to give it as gifts to all her best buddies.

Bless her heart.

That’s very gratifying.

I was fortunate enough to have about a dozen orders of more than 20 books during “Use All The Crayons!” inaugural roll-out. This is, I think, the first mass purchase from someone I’ve never met.

It wasn’t me selling the book. It was the book selling itself. 

I take great care signing each and every book. Every single purchase is very special to me so I want to ensure it’s extra special to the recipient.

This, of course, makes good business sense. People will probably talk it up more if it comes with a little evident love on the title page.

But that’s the secondary motivation. If you’ve written a book that claims to make people happy, I figure you had darn well better be genuine about ensuring that outcome.

So as many of you, my friends, know, I put a little “Author Self Portrait” crayon doodle like you see above in the upper corner of the title page, and color in the clip art with different crayons. And they’re, of course, signed in crayon.

But to me the message I sign on each book is what makes it special. Here it is:

“Never forget for even a single instant how many happy colors your life is forever adding to the lives of those you love. Remember, together we can all brighten the whole world!”

I’ve tried and I don’t think it can be shortened or improved upon. It conveys what to me is the very essence of the book. I didn’t think of it until after I’d begun signing books or it would have certainly been in the book, rather than on it.

So it takes me about 8 minutes to sign each book. That means John Grisham’s signing 24 in the time it takes me to sign one.

Of course, his books are outselling mine by about 10 times even that ratio so let’s not begrudge him his economizing.

Another point: I always get the list of names so each book can be personalized.

That’s where it gets tricky. Because I alter the message when it’s a gift, even as I know squat about the relationship between the giver and the recipient. The signing starts like this:

“Eve asked me to sign this book just for you, Adam, for all the happy colors your life is forever adding to hers . . .”

It occurred to me when I was signing some of these to names like Bob, Frank and Burt that a typical male might read more into the note than intended.

The realization began tempting me to an almost irresistible mischief.

I thought, hmmm, now what if I wrote on Burt’s  “. . . and Eve thinks you’re probably a really great kisser!”

It’s unlikely Eve would detect the deviation and on Christmas Day the relationship between these two individuals would take a dramatic turn.

Maybe she does feel that way or maybe Burt’s been pining for a signal to make a move and -- who knows? -- maybe Burt really is a great kisser.

There’s a chance my chicanery could make these two happier than any book ever could. There’s a chance they could wind up married, have children and one of the kids could grow up to discover a cure for something itchy.

Imagine the publicity.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been tempted to questionable activity regarding book signings.

See, I’ve for the past year been walking into book stores that sell my book and asking if I could sign them. Various store clerks are either enthused or indifferent.

But none of them is ever careful.

Never once has anyone said, “You say you’re Chris Rodell? Prove it!”

No, they just say, go ahead, have at it. And I go and sign my books.

It occurred to me I could say I was anyone and sign anything any way I want.

I could scribble in all the self-help books about overcoming loss, “My only regret is my book’s not as good as the one Chris Rodell wrote on the shelf right next to mine!”

I don’t think anyone would know.

The sex books are always near mine (another reason I’m always scrupulously checking up on my book’s status). I could grab one of the really racy ones and write on the title page, “My very favorite position is sitting in a comfortable chair reading Chris Rodell’s book!”

I could sign it in lipstick, “Love, Jenna Jameson!”

I guess I was mistaken.

I think I have found a more compelling and concise way to sign a book.

I wonder what Burt would think.

Related . . .

Inmate No. J12360D1107 “Using All The Crayons!”

“Use All The Crayons!” unconventional marketing

“Use All The Crayons!” A 10-star review

Arnold Palmer NOT attending my book signing

(692 words)

The following story is mostly true. I always try to tell the truth. I do it all the time except for when it seems advantageous to do otherwise.

I was driving down the parkway to Pittsburgh yesterday when the phone in my pocket began tickling my hip. It was a stranger who’d read the Sunday newspaper story about me and my book, which I’ll be crayon signing tomorrow at the Greensburg Barnes & Noble from 2 to 4 p.m. 

“A friend of mine said Arnold Palmer was going to be there,” said Jim. “I thought, wow, what a great opportunity. Your book sounds really fun. I could pick up some copies for friends and we could meet Arnold Palmer. What time is it?”

I told him the times and said he was mistaken. It is true that my friend Arnold Palmer, the most popular golfer of all time and one of the few Americans to win both the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the Congressional Gold Medal -- our nation’s highest civilian awards -- had provided the gushy foreword to the book. But he’s in Orlando and won’t be back until Christmas.

I say we’re friends and that’s true. But he’s not the kind of friend who’d text me to meet him out for beers and wings or invite me to swing by to meet Queen Elizabeth, with whom he’s chummy.

But I never dreamed there’d be a day I’d be able to say my friend Arnold Palmer provided the foreword for my kooky self-help book, so who knows?

I promise if he ever texts me the Queen’s in town because she heard wings at The Pond were good and they wanted me to join them, I’ll tweet it right up.

Jim said he’s still coming and said it made his day to find an author’s phone number on his website, call it, and have the actual author pick up.

I told him I’m not like other authors.

So I set the phone down and the devious parts of my mind began to fidget.

How’d that crazy rumor get started? How many people were believing it? How could I use this to my benefit? And, gadzooks, what if it’s true?

If it was, I knew I’d need a haircut. Palmer’s made fun of me before for looking too shaggy.

I knew what I needed to do first. As soon as I could, I dashed off an e-mail to Palmer’s assistant. I wouldn’t want him thinking the rumor was something I’d concocted.

“Is Arnold Palmer flying from Orlando to Latrobe to help draw interest for my crayon book signing Saturday at the Greensburg Barnes & Noble from 2 to 4 p.m.? That would be outstanding.

“And if he's not, would you please issue a press release to every media outlet in America saying Arnold Palmer will not be attending Chris Rodell's book signing Saturday at the Greensburg Barnes & Noble from 2 to 4 p.m.?”

I knew at this point an official press release strongly denying he’d be there would draw as much attention as if he were.

My e-mail received the sarcasm-rich two-word response: “Nice try.”

I spent the next hour debating whether it would be worth my time to contact representatives for Lady Gaga, Justin Beiber, Donald Trump and Nelson Mandela to ask if they’d issue honest press releases asserting these luminaries wouldn’t be attending my book signing tomorrow at the Greensburg Barnes & Noble from 2 to 4 p.m. 

I’m going to try to make it fun. I’m bringing a little bell to ring anytime someone purchases more than one copy. And I’ll have a sheet of paper where people can do a little crayon doodling while I’m signing their books.

I’m thinking of putting up a list of things I’ll do as incentives for people to purchase multiple copies. Example: “Buy 100 copies and next week I’ll clean your gutters!”

But that’ll be about it. Because, in fact, none of the mentioned stars will be attending. Neither will Palmer nor the Queen.

But I’ll be there.

If you’re not busy, I hope you will be, too.

And that’s the truth.

(Can’t make it? Tune in tomorrow at 8 a.m. to Latrobe’s 1480 WCNS-AM for a lively 30 minute interview host Dow Carnahan taped earlier this week. And the book’s available at Amazon, Barnes&Noble.com and on iTunes)

Related . . .

• The Great Chris Rodell

• Yesterday, Arnold Palmer watched me golf