If a book gets published and nobody reads it–how in the world can you get them to?

I am going to be lazy here and let my dear friend professor David Yamada describe what can happen after you publish a book–in this case, how THOSE WHO SAVE US, a debut novel that in hardcover was a “family & friends” edition, meaning that’s who bought it–eventually made the NYT bestseller list.

Blessings upon David for thinking of us writers–and upon all of us writers trying to get our wonderful books to make a sound, one way or the other.

The (Sometimes Long) Yellow Brick Road, post-publication

Just when you thought you were having the worst possible day (romantic meltdown, beloved dog has seizure, taking dog to vet in 4th day in a row of driving rain, rats, standstill traffic, homeless guy hitting your car with his cart, etc)…take heart!  Because somebody incredibly kind and brilliant might be working on your behalf, providing the world’s funniest and most creative book endorsement campaign.  In this case, it’s my brother.  Check out his PR Juggernaut for my novels here:

The World’s Funniest & Most Creative Book Endorsement Campaign

I loves me some brothah.  Yes, I do.  Thank you, Joey.  You may have stopped many hearts at Barnes & Noble, but you uplifted mine.

This morning a reader wrote to me that she was curious about my trajectory as a writer.  Poor woman; she obviously didn’t know what she was getting into (potentially, a 48-hour answer).  Feeling compassionate, I gave her the Reader’s Digest Condensed version.  In case you are interested, here it is.

How I Became A Writer, by Jenna Blum

I never wanted to be anything but a writer; my dad was a writer (a broadcast news journalist, he wrote for the networks in their heyday). I’ve been writing since I was four, starting with deeply incisive and thought-provoking novels about mermaids, princesses, and barbers (I went through a brief sadistic period during which I longed to cut people’s hair off). Published short stories relatively early–I won Seventeen Magazine’s Fiction Contest in 1986 for a story called “The Legacy of Frank Finklestein,” about the cruelty of cliques.  Subsequently, I thought the world owed me a living in writing.

Went to Kenyon College for undergrad, published more short stories, and graduated to find out I was qualified to do little more than food service.  Spent a decade working in food service, including one stint that required me to wear a hat shaped like a garlic clove.  (I can still balance plates all the way up my right arm and am a damned good prep chef).

Finally Boston University let me get my master’s in Creative Writing, and, approximately thirty years after I started writing, my first novel THOSE WHO SAVE US was published, thanks to my wonderful agent. THOSE WHO SAVE US became a New York Times bestseller two years after its release in paperback because of book club word-of-mouth; I’ve been to over 1000 book clubs in person for that novel, more by phone, and more larger events too. Bless my readers!  THE  STORMCHASERS is my second baby and I am just in love with it. I’m going to hit the East Coast part of my tour this fall and continue with any book club that’ll have me.”

And that’s where I am on my writerly trajectory.  We’ll see where it goes next.

manuscript of THE STORMCHASERS

I just Googled myself.  I admit it:  I Google myself quite a bit, often late at night.  But it’s not pure self-indulgence.  Sometimes you find gems of information–about yourself, all the more enticing–that might not have come to your notice in the traditional way.

For instance, I just found this amazing interview conducted by Dr. (and Grub Street novelist) Kathy Crowley on behalf of writers’ blog Beyond The Margins:

amazing interview

Not to worry if you don’t feel like reading about teaching, skydiving, and writer’s block (and how I wriggled out from under it it)–the photo alone is worth the look.  I guarantee it!

How did I manage to miss this great interview?  Could it have been because it was published on the day THE STORMCHASERS came out?  Could I possibly be that self-involved?  I dunno.  Hold on, I gotta go Google myself.  I’ll tell you in a minute.

So what does a writer girl do on her month off?  Well, for one thing, my hammock just got hung (and that’s not a euphemism), so that’s where I intend on spending the lion’s share of my time, happily reading galleys, here at the Blue House in rural MN.

But on the way here, we made a little detour through South Dakota, where on July 23 some nice tornadic storms were going up.  And we did see three tornadoes.  That seems beside the point, however, when you consider this:

super-supercell that produced the world's largest hailstone. photo credit: superchaser Chad Cowan, www.chasethestorms.com

This photo, taken by Chad Cowan as he was leaning out the Jeep’s passenger window, is of a tornadic supercell that produced the world’s largest hailstone:  over 8 inches in diameter, near Vivian, SD.

Luckily, we avoided the hail core of this storm.

And it was a lucky break to be in just the right place at the right time, where I could watch history in the making (here’s video of said history in the making). How often does a writer girl get the chance to do that?

Woodrow, however, despite being Chase Mascot, kept our heads from getting as big as the hailstone by remaining unimpressed:

Woodrow, unimpressed.

and has guided me gently back to what’s important:  the back yard of the Blue House, where in addition to a hammock and books, there are also interesting sniffs and many tennis balls.

Happy August, all.

view from my hammock

Every once in a while a reader asks me a question that summons forth my enormous capacity for indignation, because clearly somebody has been mistreating this writer, or the writer has somehow gotten the impression that what she has to say isn’t worthwhile.

Like today’s question, from M:

“I kind of feel  that if I write a full story, someone will look at it and it will be bad and they will crush my dreams.  Is that stupid?”

Out comes the soapbox!

“Dear M:

Writers need to have monumental egos because you need them in order to keep writing when others think what you write is stupid.  This quality and persistence are as necessary to a writer as daily reading, a thorough understanding of grammar, and the ability to put words together.  Many wonderful writers have stopped writing because they allowed others’ unkind comments to crush them. You can’t let that happen.

My advice is, since you are self-aware (another excellent and necessary quality in a writer) and know you have a hard time finishing stories, set yourself the task of finishing the stories you have written.  Don’t be led astray by new stories; jot down the ideas for later, but finish the ones you’ve started.  You will have a sense of having accomplished something hard, and it will get easier with practice.  And really, there will always be people who don’t get what you write.  There will also always be people who do get it.  You just have to ignore the former and, as  my grandfather used to say, ‘Just keep sawing wood.’ ”

Happy writing, all.

sawing.

When a tornado reaches its end stage, it’s said to be roping out.  This is my favorite part, when the tornado looks like it’s stretching and vacumning, when it’s at its most Wizard-of-Oz-y:

LaGrange, Wyo. tornado, 6.6.09, roping out.

This is the stage of THE STORMCHASERS book tour I’m at, too.  After six weeks of whirlwind back-to-back travel, readings, events, and storm tour, I’ve gently touched down at my friend Kirsten’s house in Westminster, CO.  Soon I’ll be leaving the speaking stage, heading home to Boston, then driving to the Blue House in Minnesota.  Perchance to rest a little, spend some time with family, maybe even start dreaming about the next novel.

But the thing about the rope-out stage is, the tornado is still visible.  Here are my final appearances on the ‘CHASERS hardcover tour, coming to you courtesy of TV8 in Vail, CO and 107.1 Talk Radio in Minneapolis:

THE STORMCHASERS say Good Morning, Vail! on TV8

Jenna talks to Lori & Julia at Twin Cities 107.1 about stormchasing, sibling love, snacks, and being starstruck

And, as with the atmosphere, what comes around goes around.  I’ll be posting the rest of my summer’s adventures.  I’ll be hoping you come with me in the fall, when I start the East Coast leg of my ‘CHASERS tour.  And next summer:  watch out.  THE STORMCHASERS will be out in paperback, so the whirlwind will start up once again.

For now, happy reading during these rope-out days of summer.

Here’s how it goes:

PRE-LAUNCH:  shop frantically for reading suit in the few hours a week you have designated for said task.  Re-confront your predilection for making up outfits that don’t exist yet are the ONLY clothes you will consider wearing (i.e. black reading suit for launch and subsequent book tour that is tailored in such a way so as to not make you look like Hilary Clinton).  Complain to boyfriend. Rail at boyfriend when he says, “Why a suit?  You going for the Hilary Clinton look?”  Try on any number of suits with your dear and patient friend Cecile.  Make childlike squinchy faces when you ask, “Does this suit make me look like Hilary Clinton?” and she tilts her gorgeous red head and says, kindly, “Wellll……”  Throw tantrum in stores, reject Cecile’s suggestions for suits, and yell like the guy on Sesame Street who bangs his head on the piano, “I’ll NEVER get it, NEVER NEVER NEVER!  There are no clothes out there for me!”

At the last minute, buy  10 pairs of Banana Republic black trousers to wear on tour, with tailored t-shirts.  Forget the suit.

TOUR:  start out by taking great pains with appearance, getting hair elevated to cumulonimbus-cloud height at salons, wearing the sharp black pants and grown-up shoes.  This is what you do when you speak.  You dress like a professional.  You are therefore a little perplexed at the Minneapolis reading when a man comes up to you clutching the St. Paul Pioneer Press, which features your author photo blown up to a very large size.  In the author photo, which your genius friend Marcia took using a skinnyfying lens, you are leaning against the hood of a Jeep and wearing jeans and a cowboy hat.  This is what you wear on chases.  When you suggested to your publisher that perhaps a more dignified author photo might be better, he said, “Every man in America will buy the book with this photo on it.”  Except this man at the Minneapolis reading, who holds the photo up next to you, shakes his head, and says, “Where’s the hat?  I expected the hat.  And jeans.  I came to see if you really looked like this in jeans.”  You smile, thinking, is this perhaps a little creepy?  Look around for giant boyfriend who is also doubling as bodyguard.  By the time you get his attention, the disgruntled man is gone.  But your publisher is right:  he did buy a book.

WISCONSIN:  it happens again, at the Full Circle Bookstore in Milwaukee.  A male reader comes up, shows you your author photo in the local paper, and says, “You’re much shorter than I expected.”

“Well, I am sitting down,” you say.

He shakes his head.  You stand up.  You are wearing the black trousers and a brown t-shirt from Anthropologie.  ”Better?” you ask.

He considers it.  ”Still doesn’t look like the photo,” he says.

“Well, my genius friend Marcia took that photo using a skinnyfying lens.”

The reader raises his eyebrows.  ”Where’s the hat?” he asks.  ”And the jeans?  I expected the hat and jeans.”

It’s not just him. Or men. The bookstore manager–female–said, greeting you at the door, that she was expecting a behatted author.  And now, a chorus of ladies echoes, “Yeah!  Where’re the jeans and hat?”

OKLAHOMA:  You go to Shepler’s with your friend Marcia and buy jeans, boots, and a hat.

OKLAHOMA, II:  you send home 25 lbs. worth of very expensive and heavy black trousers.

ST. LOUIS:  Suitcase is still too heavy.  You send home 20 lbs worth of tailored t-shirts and grown-up shoes.  They want an author in jeans, boots, t-shirt and hat?  You will give them one.

DALLAS:  a reader gives you a tiara.  After you post this news on Facebook, readers in subsequent cities expect you to wear jeans, boots, and tiara.

DENVER:

You arrive at your hotel, pick up the updated schedule your publicist has faxed you, and  say “Oh, no.”  You’re supposed to be on a televised morning show the next day.  You’ve just come from the Oklahoma Panhandle, driving across Colorado with your window down, and your hair looks like a tumbleweed.  Your tan is peeling.  Your eyes are starey.

Worst of all, you have nothing to wear on TV but jeans, boots, a very grubby t-shirt, and a tiara.

“Where’s the nearest place for me to buy some black trousers and shoes?” you ask the hotel receptionist.

She directs you to Target, where you purchase a pair of black pants.

Thank goodness I will be on stormchasing tour next week.  I will miss my bookstore and library events and meeting my wonderful readers, but my sartorial choices will be much easier:  which t-shirts to wear with my jeans, boots, and tiara-topped cowboy hat.

xoxo,
Jenna.

Dear Readers,

I understand that every reader has a right to opinions–that we are all going to love, hate, or feel “feh” about novels.  And I understand that readers have a right to express those opinions.

But really, what is the point of messages like this?

“Could not get into THE STORMCHASERS at all – kept waiting for it to get better but it never did.  If I hadn’t bought the book, it would have been returned to the library after the first 100 pages.  Maybe it was my lack of interest in people chasing storms – hope your next book is better.”

Did the author of this email really expect me to say, Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, you’re so right?  I wrote a crappy book.  Next time it’ll be better, for sure.

When in fact and of course I believe the complete opposite.  I love my novel.  I love the people IN my novel.  I wrote this novel because I love those people.  Every word, sentence, paragraph, journal page covered with scribbled plot architecture, evening walk, crying fit, and blessed moment of clarity, when I finally found words to say what I wanted to say–each was a hard-fought-for labor of love.

Receiving an email like this is like opening my in-box to find a snake.  At such moments, it doesn’t matter that such poisonous sentiments are mercifully few and far between.  At these times, it doesn’t matter that I have learned to deal with them by responding, “I’m sorry you feel that way, but thanks for taking the chance on the book,” then slamming the door closed.  What matters is that people don’t seem to realize that when they are writing to writers, they are writing to real people.  When they send such vitriol, they may think they’re spewing it into the void–but there is a living, breathing person on the other end who is opening the email with her coffee, hopefully, expectantly.  Anticipating comments on what she cares about most in the world, maybe a discussion with a reader about her novel.  Not to be bitten in the face.

I’m writing this because that message hurt, and sometimes when we write about what hurts, it transforms the hurt into something that can help other people.  What I hope is this:  if you are ever tempted to lash out and bite a writer (and we all are, at one point or another), please remember there is a person at the other end.  And refrain.

xo,

Jenna.

Peace.

For the many of you who asked (proving that my readers know the finer things in life), here is the Tornado-tini recipe, courtesy of Pam Cowan, who hosted me so gracefully in Kansas City:

TORNADO-TINI
Vodka
Amaretto
pineapple juice…
and a splash of grenadine.

Amounts left up to the drinker–em, the reader!

Enjoy with a good book.

xo,

Jenna.

Tornado-tini x 2