Audio book & "Today Show" guest "offers"

(760 words)

The voice on the other end of the phone pulsed with exuberance. It was just the kind of voice I want promoting me and “The Last Baby Boomer.”

He wanted me to sign on with his North Carolina firm to grant them exclusive audio book rights. 

“The premise is dynamite,” he said. “We’re confident this will be a real break-out hit. Everyone here loves your book.”

Would I sign a contract?

I answered his question with one of my own. How many signed copies did he want?

“Excuse me?”

Certainly, I said, any reader as enthused as you would like multiple copies to keep and to give as gifts. And, man, I could really use the dough.

“Well, I haven’t actually read it.”

How do you know it’s so good?

“Our acquisitions editor said so.”

In fact, nobody had read my book. Firms like this one scout the lists to see which independent authors might be susceptible to a crafty sales pitch. He’d said they’d do my audio book for $3,500.

I told him I’d be more comfortable going forward if I knew at least one person there had read the book. I’d be happy to sell him one.

“Okay, how much does it cost?”

I told him one copy was $3,520.

I picked the inflated price so I could cover their costs, S&H, and still pocket about $2 so I could brag to the missus what a shrewd negotiator she’d married.

Art of the deal, baby!

The guy was, indeed, very friendly and our conversation was jocular. I was just jacking with him to make a point.

Some writers are on a shoe-string budget. My situation is more precarious. I can’t afford shoes with strings.

Mine is more like a flip flop budget.

Paying $3,500 for an audio book might be sound promotional strategy  but not for me at this point.

And my confidence is growing that one day agents seeking to make money off me — not from me — will step forward to secure these kinds of deals on my behalf.

Val and I went to the annual Adams Memorial Library fundraiser in Latrobe and I bumped into a reader and his praise for my book couldn’t have been gushier. He said my book was better than most of Kurt Vonnegut’s. Many of his compliments were interrupted by fits of laughter as he repeated to me his favorite parts.

I’d see him out of the corner of my eye pointing me out to strangers and telling them about me and my book.

Really, it was almost embarrassing.

Plus, my arm started getting tired from holding that heavy megaphone in front of his mouth every time I heard him mention my name.

So it was a swell end to a week that, of course, was not without his deflations. Foremost being the news I’d not be guesting on “The Today Show” with Matt and Savannah.

Now, I didn’t think I’d ever be on “Today” talking about my book. My dreams are more realistic.

But a guy I knew told me over the phone I was just the kind of guest they were seeking. And, ahem, he was a former “Today” producer.

I’ve contacted many of my media friends about promotional advice: Do they have any friends that’ll review the book or profile me?

He called me right back. We’d never talked on the phone.

“You’re perfect for ‘Today,’” he said. “Your book has a generational epoch theme and it’s funny. That’s just what they’re looking for.”

He hadn’t worked there in two years, but he was still friends with the remaining producers.

What, by the way, had he been up to?

“I’m immersed in projects involving the commercialization of legal marijuana.”

I should have realized it then, but he’d given me a clue to the opportunistic outcome.

I sent him the book (and one of the “Crayons!”) and waited. And waited.

I messaged him a month later. Nothing.

I messaged him a month after that. He sent back a terse note that his “Today” colleagues are jumping ship and he has few friends left at the Peacock.

So why did he reach out the way he did?

Does he enjoy messin’ with Sasquatch? Was it an elaborate scheme to snag a free book? Was he high when he called?

Was I?

Who knows?

All I know is we all need to be skeptical of any offers that seem too good to be true.

Consider it “sound” advice from a guy who understands how audio book negotiations work.

Related …

My Dashed Hope Fund

“Crayon!” fan letters, tantalizing leads & my first heckler

Reject me, please

Amazon “Last Baby Boomer” reviews

Someone stole Buck’s book from Tin Lizzy!

"Crayons!" fan letters, tantalizing leads & my 1st heckler

(764 words)

Write fan letters to obscure actors or musicians. Chances are they’ll write back and will fondly remember your goodhearted encouragement when they – cross your fingers – become rich and famous.

The above is tip No. 147 from “Use All The Crayons!” I never dreamed some stranger would apply that very line to me.

But there it is right there in this latest Amazon review of the book. It’s the fourth one down titled, “Feel good childish laughter.” It’s a four-star review that reads to me like an eight-star.

The woman, Melissa, wrote me a very nice note saying she’d been browsing some self-help audio books at her library, found mine, listened to it twice and wanted to drop me a quick note saying how much she enjoyed it. 

It’s the kind of thing that just makes my day. 

Given her reaction, I asked if she wouldn’t mind posting a quick review. She said she’d be glad, to.

I’m tickled by her line that me writing her back gave her a “total fan girl moment.”

See, I’m not Ringo Starr. If anyone writes me, I’m writing them right back.

It doesn’t matter what you write either. Say nice things and I’ll write back I’m flattered. Say mean things and I’ll write back that my feelings are hurt, but thanks for taking the time to write even mean things.

I think I have a real need for attention.

Reactions like Melissa’s and that of so many others encourages me to press on in the belief that one day my trajectory will follow that of above tip no. 147.

I had a really great moment about six weeks ago when a prestigious editor at Redbook instantly returned my e-mail offering reasons why she should review my book for their 2.2 million readers. Said she’d love to see a copy.

I was thrilled.

Can you imagine what that kind of publicity would do for a struggling author? It would be enormous. I guarantee you it would be the kind of catalyst that would lead to a cascade of further publicity, best seller sales and lucrative speaking engagements.

For me, it was a dream come true.

We had a friendly and encouraging exchange of e-mails that concluded with me asking her her favorite colors.

She has two. They are blue and green.

I overnighted her a shiny crayon-signed (blue and green) copy of the book everyone’s falling in love and waited to hear back.

The next afternoon I sent a four-word e-mail to my powerful new buddy to check and make sure the book arrived.

No response.

Two weeks later I sent another e-mail asking to see if she’s had a chance to peek at the book.

No response.

Last week I sent an e-mail warning her that I think one of her colleagues must have  hacked into her e-mail and sent me a series of friendly and encouraging notes under her name just to mess with Sasquatch.

Nothing.

That, for me, is the cruelest type of exchange. And it happens more than you think.

I can only conclude that many powerful and successful New York editors were raise by wolves.

I was not. I was raised by wonderful people who knew wonderful people.

I was reminded of this Wednesday evening at my “Use All The Crayons!” whoop-de-doo at the Mt. Lebanon Public Library.

About 20 people showed up. There were so many great old neighbors, parents of friends and a dear friend who was my homeroom buddy for four years in high school.

It was wonderful.

And my Mom came, too!

I spoke for one hour completely without notes.

See, I do believe something soon will happen where I’ll be invited to do more speaking engagements and I want to be sharp.

I think I was. Everyone seemed to enjoy it and I sold 15 books. Several of those in attendance brought pre-purchased books for me to sign.

I guess the highlight of the night was when after about 50 minutes of unfettered yammering from me, I paused and asked if anyone had any questions.

Mom raised her hand and said, “Can we go home now?”

My first heckler!

If I’d have had security I’d have had security throw her butt out.

But it’s that kind of sass that ought to give you some idea as to why my manners are superior to those of big city magazine editors.

And, yes, you can all go home now.

Have a great weekend and Happy Father’s Day!

Related . . . 

Ringo tired of being a Starr?

Reject me, please

The good, the bad & the repaired TV

Gone 19 days, the TV is back home where it belongs and I am diminished by its return.

The welcome home lavished upon it dwarfed any reaction I’ve ever received, even the times when I come bearing gifts.

The children did euphoric little cartwheels across the carpet and Val’s relieved expression matched the look on Livvy’s face when John Walton came through the door after the harrowing winter evening that was the dramatic catalyst for the Walton’s Christmas special, “The Homecoming.”

It’s understood. My presents are trinkets compared to the evergreen gifts of a really good hi-def TV.

It has nearly 1,000 channels that bestow comfort, laughter, suspense and hours and hours of Disney wisdom.

The TV never scolds. It never corrects. It never tells the girls it’s time for bed. It never grosses them out with a really loud fart.

How can your average father expect to compete with that?

The TV plays so many leadership roles. It settles disputes. It unites us. It is our Speaker of the House.

Actually, with surround sound, it is our Five Speakers of the House.

No one would give a damn if the refrigerator or the washing machine went on the fritz. It wouldn’t tear at the social fabric of the family (but if the washing machine went down it would likely diminish some of the family’s other fabrics).

So when the TV goes down, we all feel it’s pain.

Worse, I knew the cure for the suddenly black screen could kill -- not the TV set.

Me.

That’s because once again I’d be dealing with Daryl, a man so mean he makes Dick Cheney seem cheerful.

I’d dealt with the old man before. He was rude, abrasive and tactless, a self-contained Axis of Evil so malevolent I felt like alerting the FBI.

I knew the broken TV meant he’d be poisoning my otherwise sunny days.

That’s just one sacrifice I make to support America’s Main Street businesses over the town-killing big box stores.

If your Best Buy TV breaks, you just drop it off at the store and two weeks later they tell you it’s fixed. It’s like sex with a hooker only without all the warranty issues.

But if you bought from a local reseller, you’re dealing with Daryl.

I wasn’t there five minutes when he insulted me.

“You’ve got a B.O. problem,” he said.

Impossible, I said. Old Spice has never failed me.

He explained he meant “back order.” He was messin’ with Sasquatch.

With atrocious bedside manners, he said, “This could take a long, long time.”

Still, it’s a hostage situation. I’m entirely at his misanthropic mercy.

I walk out of there dumbfounded how any man who spends his days healing sick TVs can be so unfeeling. Doesn’t he ever tune any of his myriad sets to the Lifetime Channel?

How can a man skilled at repairing 72-inch hi-def sets fail to see the big picture?

The situation was saved by one of life’s nifty little symmetries.

It was because of our dealings with the world’s most dyspeptic TV man we also got to better know one of the industry’s friendliest.

He’s Vince Zaccaria of Premiere Audio/Visual Services in Mt. Pleasant. It’s guys like him that are the reason I’ll always buy from local independents.

He’s so well regarded his home theater construction skills have been showcased with meathead ex-jock Tony Siragusa on the DIY Channel’s Man Cave shows. He’s done a bunch of them all over the East Coast.

So he’s a busy man. But when he heard we were without a TV he reacted like Ike Godsey did when one of The Walton kids got sick.

He brought medicine.

“I just felt so bad when I heard you were without a TV,” he said. “I couldn’t let you go all that time without one.”

He gave us a spiffy loaner and when Daryl finally said the TV was fixed, Vince was there within hours to hook it all up.

So an event that began with me confronting human nastiness ends with my family having the opportunity to bask in goodness, generosity and dazzling magnificence.

And I’m talking about the TV, not Vince.

Vince is nice and all.

But he’s no TV.