Saturday was my big day at the Big Orange Book Festival. My publisher and I both worked tirelessly to promote this event, and especially my talk. VHP designed several flyers/posters and a video trailer, all of which I diligently sent off to the people at the Festival. I tweeted endlessly about the event, posted the flyers here on my blog, on Facebook, and on G+, as well as the link to the video trailer. I bought a new, artsy-authorly looking outfit to wear, and even cut my hair. I spent hours polishing up my talk and pouring over my books for just the right excerpts to share.
Saturday came. I was ready for the masses. After all, this was being billed as a big event. There were big name authors, even, at the event. It was called “Big Orange; everything about it was “Big.” I wondered how big the crowd would be for my talk, “How Dying for Six Minutes Changed Me From a Professional Student Into a Professional Writer.” I figured with a catchy title like that, I could easily fill a room.
We got to the college where the event was held. We walked up the stairs and into the building where my talk was scheduled. My palms began to sweat, and my heart raced with excitement. We opened the door and stepped inside to find …
Nothing. The student union, basically. There were no posters for the Book Festival, no banners. Nothing at all.
Confused, we searched for the elevator. We eventually found it, and went up to the second floor where my talk was to begin in less than 45 minutes. The hall was dark; only a dim light shone from the room to the left of the elevators—my scheduled room. A little classroom. There was, again, nothing saying a Big Orange event was to take place there.
Back in the elevator, we headed for the third floor, where eventually we found the author Green Room and a Big Orange volunteer, who told me the person who would introduce me would be up momentarily.
Twenty minutes or so before my scheduled presentation, she showed up. She immediately sat down and started talking a mile a minute about her job at the university and how she’d been a student there thirty years earlier and on and on. Not a question about me. I wondered how she was going to introduce me. I figured she must have studied my bio, sent in weeks earlier to the Festival people.
Finally it was time to go down to the room.
There were exactly nine people waiting: three good friends of mine, three Big Orange volunteers in their Big Orange volunteer shirts, and three strangers. Wait, make that five strangers. So a total of eleven people. Twelve, counting my husband, who is always at my side at events to take pictures and offer moral support.
My host got up, and immediately introduced me as “Zoey ZiDEL.” Short “i,” strong emphasis on the “DEL.”
I corrected her. “Sorry,” she said.
She then went on to say I was the author of Observations of an Earth Mage. Which, of course is true. Only she pronounced in “maa-JAY.”
Maa-JAY? Did she pronounce cage, caa-JAY? Rage, raa-JAY? Page, paa-JAY? I corrected her again. Which rather annoyed me; she’d asked me on the way down how to pronounce “Mage,” and I’d told her “Just like it looks. Mage. Long ‘a.’”
The final insult to injury: “Zoey was recently nominated for a Push-heart Prize.”
I silently screamed, THAT’S PUSHCART!!! NOT PUSH-HEART! WHOEVER HEARD OF A PUSH-HEART PRIZE? But aloud, I politely corrected her. Again. “Smoky, not Zoey. And it’s Pushcart, not Push-heart.”
Did I mention that two of the five strangers in the audience got up and walked out of the room during the introduction?
I got up and gave my talk. I did a great job; I’m really good at public speaking, because I don’t get nervous in front of an audience and I love talking about what I know best: my books, and writing. I spoke from the heart, I spoke with passion. To a “crowd” of ten, three of whom were good friends of mine, and one of whom was my husband.
I was supposed to sign books afterward. But how was the “crowd” to buy books for me to sign when the book festival people didn’t have books there for me to sign? The books were nowhere near the building where, hidden in darkened recesses, we authors pitched our wares. The book sales were on the other side of the campus football field, for pete’s sake. If any of the three strangers wanted to buy a book, they would have had to trek over to the book sale tent, buy the book, and trek back for me to sign. Sorry, no one was going to do that. I signed exactly two books—and those were bought by my friends, and I signed them after the festival when we went to a Thai restaurant to eat dinner.
Big Orange turned out to be a Big Lemon.
BUT … if they invite me back next year, I will go again. Why? Because any promotional opportunity is just that: an opportunity. People may not have flocked to my event, perhaps because they couldn’t find me, or perhaps they truly weren’t interested. But I have to believe it was the former reason, not the latter. And even if people didn’t see me in person, they saw the promotional blitz I did on the Internet, and perhaps some of the people who saw that blitz took the time to check out my Website, my books, and perhaps I garnered a few new fans that way.
Yes, if I’m invited back, I will go. But I will do things a bit differently.
I will suggest to them ahead of time that the person who introduces me actually talks to me ahead of time, gets to know me a little bit, so they can at least pronounce my name and my book titles and my prize nominations correctly. I will suggest they put posters, banners, any promo materials at all in the building where authors are speaking so people can find us. I will suggest they not spread the festival so thinly across campus that book sales are across the football field from the speakers. I will suggest that when authors and their publishers go to the trouble and expense of creating promotional materials the festival can use, they use them!
I hope they are open to such suggestions. Big Orange could have been a terrific event for us authors who weren’t the big star attractions to the festival (and there were many of us, at least according to their Website).
Just because we weren’t the big stars doesn’t mean we couldn’t—and didn’t—shine just as brightly.
Well, I’m sorry to hear that almost nobody showed up. The Festival dropped the ball multiple times with no banners, no intelligent person to introduce you and, apparently, not publicity. Signing books on the other side of the campus only makes sense if every single inch of space between your talk and those books is filled with crowd-pleasing venues. My Scot’s ability to burn bridges before I cross them would, I think, prompt me to send the festival a letter or a link to my blog. Of course I wouldn’t get invited back. Sigh.
Malcolm
I intent to communicate all this to the festival people. I’ll do it nicely, of course, but yes–they dropped the ball. Multiple times.
Oh Smoky, my heart goes out to you. I have been there. Walked into a library in Maine to speak and encountered empty seats. Kudos for you for making it positive. Saw a tee shirt just yesterday that said, “It’s not about how many times you fall down. It’s about how many times you get up.”
That’s it, Teresa! And I’ve gotten very good at getting up, I’ve been knocked down so many times!
I’ve been there, too, and kudos to you for handling it with such grace. Even if the bodies weren’t there, who knows how many people saw your promotional posts and materials and will now look up you and your books? You may see sales from this yet.
Well, as you know, books aren’t returnable, and Follett’s ordered all the books directly, even though I volunteered to supply them. So VHP will be paid and thus I will get royalties on every book they bought, whether they resold them or not!
Grr. Do you get to evaluate them?
Haven’t heard from them yet, Kat…will see if they send out an eval form.
Smoky, so sorry the college didn’t promote your speaking engagement as they should have.. I’ve personally had some good ones and some bad ones. One of my biggest flops was at a very prestigious public library where I arrived to find no signs, posters or indications that anything was happening that day.The woman in charge introduced me to a crowd of three, then said she had some important paperwork to do and walked out. Fortunately, about halfway through my program, a friend and her teenage daughter showed up. I got a great response and feedback from my audience of five, and really enjoyed doing my presentation. I just told my daughter yesterday, who felt that her dance performance wasn’t up to par, “No one performance can make or break your career.” As writers, and performers,we become very resilient!
Rubber skins. Yup. You’re absolutely right, Ramey!
I am so sorry about your experience…what worries me the most is that it was a university event and the nitwit didn’t know how to pronounce ‘mage’…I admire your willingness to return…perhaps you need to develop some diva qualities such as..”I demand that my name be known and pronounced correctly at first contact!” ;o) Most of all, I love that you gave your talk, all bright, polished, and prepared, with enthusiasm to the 5 people who managed to find that room and you.
Thanks, Michaele. I’m nothing if not resilient!
I had scheduled an appearance, that my “agent” assured me would be “Big. Really Big.” . This was along IH40 Just an address given and I had difficulty finding the venue. . It was a truck stop. There were no banners, no flyers pasted on the door/windows. As I unloaded my books and other “goodies” I apologized to about 20 authors sitting around tables for being a little late. And then we waited. And waited. NOBODY came. Except a high school classmate who was in the town visiting relatives. I had emailed her about this event, and she showed up (God bless her) and bought my book. I had the only sale of the day.
The “agent” showed up and acted surprised that nobody came in We all but lynched her. I severed my so called contract and reported her to Editors and Preditors.
I chalked this up as a “learning experience.”
Marilyn
Wasn’t that just a few years ago,Marilyn? I seem to remember when that happened to you.
Oh, I meant to tell you I admire you for scheduling again, after this badly-managed venue. “That which does not kill me makes me stronger.”
I’m strong like a cat on her ninth life, Marilyn.
Sorry it was such a bust, Smoky. You had such high hopes for it.
Yes, I did Yvonne. But such things happen. Authors have to be a tough lot, because we experience so many ups and downs.
Sorry you had such a crappy experience, but it speaks volumes for you that you are able to face it head on. I’m still cringing at the mangled pronunciations, though!
I know, Tracy! I’ve been a speaker at more book and writer events than I can count–have even been the “big event.” (Keynote speaker.) The person who introduced me has always taken the time to talk to me, make sure they knew how to pronounce my name, and certainly at least knew what my name was! It was an experience, I’ll give you that.
Smoky, I think you have some very good suggestions here. Perhaps we as authors need to ask/make suggestions in advance. I have read/spoken at venues in which my books were not in the same place that I speak/read, and it absolutely does not go as well. My own experience is that they need to be at a table where people walk, in the same room or just outside of it, and only my books, not a bookstore kind of arrangement.
I also think a letter to the Festival is warranted with your suggestions. If an Institution is going to put on such an event, they need to get feedback and train their volunteers. Most lay people do not know how to do this. They obviously put out enough effort to put the event on; now they need to follow through so that it is successful. Otherwise, they are simply shooting themselves in the foot.
That said, I wish I could have heard your talk and had you sign my books, stranger in flesh that I am, but not in heart! (Is that holding the opposites?)
Yes, Patricia, I believe it is holding the opposites! I wish you could have been here, too. Maybe sometime I’ll get an event up north, and we can meet up.
As for the festival (which Malcolm renamed the Tiny Kumquat Book Fest–almost spewed my coffee all over my computer when he wrote that to me!), I’m going to give them a few more days to see if they reach out and contact us authors for feedback. If not, I’m prepared to send them a letter.
Yes, the Tiny Kumquat Book Fest!!
Yes, like everyone else, I think you should make your suggestions soon.
Well at least you can blame the organisers — that was pathetic! When I bombed, it wasn’t exactly anyone’s fault, but simply because of being an unknown. I visited Texas some years ago as a guest of the Austin International Poetry Festival, and the friend who was promoting me in advance did an excellent job. But the launch of my new poetry book at a local bookstore didn’t go well, despite being widely advertised in all the right places including the venue itself. There was an audience of only about a dozen people. They were attentive and very enthusiastic; the only problem was that they were already fans, who had attended my other readings and already bought the book. I did all right at events which included more prestigious names, where people could discover me, but no way I was going to draw a crowd of people who hadn’t heard me, or of me, for a solo performance. The very gracious bookshop owner enjoyed the evening — but I doubt it compensated her for the lack of sales!
However, at such times, ‘the show must go on’ and the few who do turn up still deserve one’s best — which you gave them. And you held the attention of some who were strangers.
It might also be an idea if some of those who were present were to write in and say how much they enjoyed your talk and what a pity it was that it hadn’t been better advertised. They coud even declare themselves and say they came because they already knew you, and you are always good value. (Probably best if not your husband, though!)
Rosemary, that’s an excellent idea–having my friends who were there write in! I shall have them do that. And no, you’re right–best not it be my Scott!
(And it was perhaps overkill too, as I was so well promoted that I was available all over the place before and during the Festival.)
Overkill is probably better than under-promoting, though.