Touring: Worth the Price?

Since my newest book, TROUBLED BONES, came out in mid October, I’ve been on the road touring. And I think if I never saw another airport it couldn’t be too soon.

My husband actually looks forward to the early part of the tour that I do in Arizona, because this becomes a long weekend for us both, driving from our home in southern California to cross the deserts and slip over the Colorado River into Arizona. A weekend of sitting around pools with the occasional stint at a bookstore or library doesn't sound too bad.

This year, I asked my publicist at St. Martin’s to set me up on a multi-state tour. They are happy to do that for me. Of course, they don’t actually pay for any of it, they just make the phone calls and set it up. It’s up to me to get there.

Is it worth the time and expense for an author? In this age of social media, can one get away with simply tapping away on the computer to get attention? In order to sell books, an author has to get their name out there. And even with all the Facebooking and Twittering one can do, I believe there comes a time when you still have to step out of your front door and go out into the world, meeting people personally and connecting with librarians and booksellers.

I do events all year. I’m lucky to live in southern California where there seems to be lots of avenues for me to get myself out into the public eye, from the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books to smaller but no less high profile literary gatherings like Literary Orange and luncheons sponsored by various women’s professional organizations, as well as library appearances. And once the word gets out that you’re halfway entertaining, you get recommended all over the place. That’s how I roll these days, through recommendations, through the speaker’s bureau at my Los Angeles chapter of Sisters in Crime, and through my publicist with my publisher.

But that only gets me connected in California. I wanted far more coverage than that and this year, I pulled out the stops—and my credit card—to hit the road. (You can see pictures of my adventures at www.Getting-Medieval.com)

Before any official book tour, I began the year in January with a couple of panels at the ALA Midwinter Conference in San Diego. And then I got invited to Murder on the Menu, a grand panel of authors sponsored by the Cerritos Library in southern California. So far so good. I could drive to these and they required no overnight stay.

In February, I was invited to Birmingham, Alabama for their weekend of author panels and events in Murder in the Magic City. Now I needed to shell out airfare and hotel. They managed the ferrying around and the meals so that helped. Also in February, I flew up to San Francisco for the day to the Oakland Library to participate on a panel with other mystery authors. Airfare only, as one of my critique partners, Ana Brazil, who lives in the area, offered to drive me around (when I came off the plane she was holding up one of those signs with my name on it, as if she were a limo driver. Funny!)

In April, I hit Literary Orange on a panel with fellow author (and personal idol) Barbara Hambly, and made all sorts of connections with librarians, scoring more gigs for later in the year. There were no fees accrued there and I got a free lunch, too boot. Also in April, San Antonio College invited me to speak as part of their writer’s week (they heard about me through acquaintance with another mystery author). They paid me to be there. That's what I'm talkin' about! At the end of April, I skipped the free LA Times Festival of Books to attend mystery fan convention Malice Domestic in Bethesda, Maryland, where I hosted a banquet table with fans and fans-to-be and also sat on a panel. I paid a conference fee, airfare, hotel, and meals, as well as dosh for giveaways to my tablemates.

I taught a workshop on researching the historical novel at the California Crime Writer’s Conference in Pasadena, for which I only shelled out for the hotel room (which I really got free with my points from Best Western).

In June, I attended and was empaneled at the Historical Novel Society Conference in San Diego (I paid a conference fee, which they cut in half since I was a speaker, hotel expenses, and gas to get there. Meals were included.)

In September, I went to Bouchercon in St. Louis, moderated one panel, sat on another, was snuck into the Library Breakfast by my publisher, and attended an outside event under my pen name at a local bookstore. In October I was on a panel at the West Hollywood Book Fair as my alter ego, and then began my medieval mystery book tour with my book launch in Pasadena (hotel, meals, and party expenses for the launch, including sword-fighting knights, who don't come cheap!)

The following weekend, my husband and I headed out for the Arizona leg of the tour, which was driveable (gas, food, lodging). But the weekend after that I was flying out to Texas to hit a bookstore each in Houston and Austin. The next weekend I was in North Carolina hitting two libraries and two bookstores, and this last weekend wrapped things up in Wisconsin having been invited to Murder and Mayhem in Muskego, another weekend full of panels with fourteen other mystery authors.

But this last one in Wisconsin was the only event I attended all year where all expenses were paid for by the sponsors (except that my flight out of Milwaukee was delayed and I missed my connecting flight to California which ended up in an overnight stay in Chicago, which I paid for). Otherwise, I was all in for conference registration fees, hotels, car rentals, gas, airfare, and meals. And let me tell you, all told for the year, that is a very, VERY BIG bill for a midlist author with only four books released (six if you count the others under my pen name). If you think it's glamorous being an author, let me show you my credit card bills.

So, Jeri, are you just going to complain about it or has it been worthwhile? On a human level, it was very worthwhile. Going to meet the readers personally, giving readers face time--and connecting in person to all those Facebook friends--leads to even more loyalty and to talking me up to other readers. Same thing at the bookstores. Sure, I sell a few right then and there, but now you’ve got the bookstore owner on your side, hand selling when a curious and eager reader shows up and just has no idea what to read next.

But how does one quantify it? Do I have to sell X number of books on my tour to pay for it? Does it even work that way? Can it?

The answer, I believe, is not really. It’s truly impossible to quantify how many books I will eventually sell by these out-of-pocket efforts.

Touring is not for everyone. And because of the expense involved, I doubt I will be doing much traveling at all next year (see me and Crispin on Facebook!). But I’m glad I gave it a push this time around. And, as many of the librarians and new fans told me, “You weren’t on my radar before, but you are now!” Maybe that says it all.

(Pictures, from top: Jeri and the Giant Peach outside of Birmingham, AL; the costume parade at the Historical Novel Society Conference; the town called Hope in Arizona I passed through.)

The Dreaded Book Tour

By Vicki Delany, guest blogger


Before I became a writer I imagined the book tour as follows:

· T day minus one month – Receive schedule of appearances from publisher.
· T Day minus three weeks – Receive airline tickets and hotel reservations from publisher.
· T Day minus two weeks – Shop for suitable clothes for appearances.
· T Day minus two weeks – Send receipts for new clothes to publisher.
· T Day minus one week – Receive list of newspaper and radio interviews from publisher.
· T Day minus two days – Check ink levels in good pen.
· T Day minus one day – Pack suitcase and go to bed early.
· T Day – Be ready on time for limo pickup for drive to airport.
· Duration of Book Tour: Have fun, meet people and talk about books and writing.

Now that I am a writer, I know that the book tour goes as follows:

· T Day minus 6 months - Send introductory e-mail to every bookstore and library in target area.
· T Day minus 5.5 months – Follow up every e-mail with telephone call.
· T Day minus 5.5 months to T-Day minus 1 month -- Follow up phone call with another phone call. Repeat.
· T Day minus 3 months – Notice that book store A is 8 hours drive from book store B, and the signing at bookstore A finishes one half hour before the signing at book store B begins.
· T Day minus 3 months – Juggle appearances on three days surrounding screw-up mentioned above.
· T Day minus 1 month – Write date and time on postcards for bookstores to hand out.
· T Day minus 2 weeks – Go on Internet to arrange car rental. Be shocked at the cost.
· T Day minus 1 week – See doctor for hand cramp caused by all that writing on postcards.
· T Day minus 6 days – Go to bank to withdraw cash for trip.
· T Day minus 6 days – PANIC.
· T Day minus 5 days – Receive notice from airline that flight has been rescheduled. It now leaves at 3:45 AM.
· T Day minus 2 days – Try on suitable clothes for being centre of attention. Suck in belly. Sigh heavily.
· T Day – Get up early; drive to airport; pay enormous amount for long-term parking; wait hours to board plane; wait more hours for plane to depart.
· Duration of Book Tour: Have fun, meet people and talk about books and writing.

Vicki and Deborah Turrell Atkinson are visiting Hawaii and the western U.S. to promote their new mysteries, Valley of the Lost and Pleasing the Dead. Details can be found at Booktour (www.booktour.com/author/vicki_delany) Vicki’s trailer for Valley of the Lost is on Youtube at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOJ4m391LZQ

Tips for the Book Tour

Elizabeth Zelvin

Here’s a writer’s-eye view of the book tour that I hope will be of general interest to mystery lovers. Without readers, booksellers, librarians, publicists, agents, editors, and publishers, there would be no book tours.

1. Get a GPS. I can't imagine how I'd have navigated multiple strange cities and found multiple addresses at the right time without Sadie. (I'm not weird--I've discovered that everybody names their GPS.) If you're technology-shy, get it months in advance and get comfortable before the tour starts. The GPS that comes with a rented car is a more primitive model. Bring your own. And get the best you can afford. Sadie had an up-to-date map (2009), spoke street and road names aloud and pronounced them correctly, never lost her temper and was always right--even when I was sure she was wrong. She did have a little trouble with Wanaque, NJ, but so do the resident humans. They render it Wanna-kew or Wanna-kwee. Sadie did her best with Wanna-KKK. I did the Heimlich maneuver and she was fine.

2. Bring that box of books. Bookstores sometimes don't get the books on time. That goes for libraries too, where Friends of the Library will usually find a way to order books for sale. If you're flying, you can't throw the box in your trunk, but you can bring as many as you can fit in your checked luggage. (If your airline charges for the second bag, it's still cheaper than the fee for going over 50 pounds.) It can mean the difference between a cancellation and a successful event.

3. Balance staying at hotels with crashing with friends. Staying with friends saves money, and you get to visit with the friends. They may also feed you, drive you around, and bring friends to your book event. On the minus side, you may have to share a bathroom and hump your book-filled suitcases up flights of stairs. The same goes for bed and breakfast inns. They’re charming, but every few nights you need a nice Econolodge or Holiday Inn where you can throw the contents of your suitcase on the floor and make a mess in the bathroom. I’m not kidding. My dentist recently ordered me to use the mirror when I floss. I could not bring myself to do this in people’s homes. Also, if you have a plumbing disaster, it’s much, much better if it occurs in a public place.

4. Be delighted no matter what. I didn’t have to fake this. The whole trip was a joy, between being treated royally as a real live author and making friends everywhere I went. If nobody comes to the signing, settle down in a comfy chair and schmooze with the bookseller. (In fact, at least one person came to every event, unless it was set up as a stock signing with no audience expected.) If you’re allergic to cats, bring antihistamines. If rows of chairs are set up and only a few people come, put the chairs in a circle. If you get a crowd, leave time for questions. Admire the store or library: each one is unique and beautiful. Oh, and bring a pen that will write on your glossy bookmark and/or a few postcards of your book. Little girls may ask for your autograph. They may even be the next generation of writers.

5. Tell your stories, funny or touching. Talk about the book, but don’t give away too much. Make sure anyone in the audience who’s already read the book knows how to avoid spoilers. Don’t read unless the store requests it, and if you do, keep it brief and pick a lively passage—dialogue or action—with a good punch line. Throw in some personal details, but think about it first. Stick to what in the shrink biz we call “benign disclosure.” Anything you say in public can be spread. Remember all the hoop-la last year when Ian Rankin said from a podium that J.K. Rowling had been seen in a Glasgow café writing a detective story? He was joking, but the international mystery writing community was like a kicked anthill as everybody scurried around trying to figure out if this would be good or bad for the rest of us.

6. Don’t plan on sightseeing or visits that take you far off the track of your tour. You’ll find you want to stay focused throughout the trip. Getting from place to place, making sure you’re fed and housed, keeping the details organized, not to mention the rest of your life, via phone and email, and doing the actual events will take all the energy you’ve got. Give yourself an occasional down day. And plan for travel days that don’t involve any events. You’ll have enough stress without worrying whether you’ll arrive in time.

7. Double check everything. My freelance publicist was terrific. She booked events I couldn’t (or was afraid I couldn’t) get myself. She also contacted the venues (not only those she’d booked, but all of them) the day before each event to find out if they were ready for me. Did they remember I’d be coming? Had they received the books? How many? And did they need anything else? I strongly recommend you get someone to do this, or do it yourself if you can’t get help. On the other hand, my publicist and her staff didn’t have time to track every point to point on Google or Mapquest and figure out if the distances between events (and lodgings, which I had to arrange myself) were realistic in the times alloted. I averted a couple of potential disasters by doing this well in advance and rescheduling if necessary.

8. If you plan an extended tour, try to get back to home base every couple of weeks. I did the trip in three or four fell swoops because I had commitments in New York in between. I started out regretting this, but ended up glad of it. I love to travel, but after a couple of weeks I found myself counting the pills remaining in my little packets of vitamins and thinking, “I wanna go home! Three days to go…two days….”

9. Don’t forget to have fun! I did, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Wrapping Up the Book Tour

Elizabeth Zelvin

I'm home from the road after more than two months of touring to promote Death Will Get You Sober. I've had a grand time, and I'm glad to be home and ready for a rest--except for updating all the information on the website, unpacking the mountain of stuff I somehow managed to fit into two suitcases at under 50 pounds for the airlines' rigorous new limits, laundering, filing, and throwing away all that stuff as appropriate, opening mail, paying bills, printing out all the text that's been accumulating on my laptop, reconnecting with family and friends, and thinking about what I'll write next.

I came back with more books than I started with, more friends than I started with, and enormous respect for the booksellers and librarians who keep the love of books alive and booklovers' insatiable desire for more satisfied one book at a time.

I'm also grateful for 21st century technology: my laptop, which kept me available to my therapy clients in the US and the UK; Sadie the GPS, who found every destination I needed to go, kept me company on long drives, and never once lost her temper; my digital camera, which recorded priceless moments like my signing at Book Passage with Salman Rushdie (we signed in different rooms, but it was a great photo op); my cell modem, which linked me to the Internet when my aging computer didn't want to talk to the wireless connections in friends' homes and cafés; my Bluetooth earpiece, which let me keep both hands on the wheel; and my cell phone, which kept me connected with the old and new friends who put me up in their homes, fed me, drove me across state lines, up and down mountains, and all around urban mazes to give me and Sadie a break, and supported the book and my events in all sorts of ways. Phone and email also allowed me to keep track of a million and one details and stay in touch with my husband and the folks at my publisher's in New York, my publicist, PJ Nunn, in Texas, and booksellers and librarians in Arizona, California, Connecticut, Florida, Indiana, North Carolina, New Jersey, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Washington, and Wisconsin.

The tour started at the Public Library Association convention in Minneapolis at the end of March (15 or 20 Sisters in Crime and 10,000 librarians) and ended at the American Library Association's annual meeting in Anaheim (15 or 20 Sisters in Crime and 25,000 librarians). Heartfelt thanks to the mystery writers all over the country who proved over and over the truth of the saying that writers in our genre are unfailingly generous and helpful to each other--and to the readers who enjoyed Death Will Get You Sober, told me they loved the title and the cover, asked me when the next one will come out, and talked about Bruce and Barbara and Jimmy as if they were not just fictional characters but real people.

Book Tour: Don't forget to pack your resilience

Elizabeth Zelvin

In general, I’m a good packer. I take plenty of changes of easily washed underwear. I don’t forget my migraine pills or the charger for my electric toothbrush. For the first leg of my first book tour, I threw six copies of Death Will Get You Sober into my suitcase, the air traveler’s equivalent of the proverbial box of books in the trunk of the author’s car.

By Day 2, I was glad I’d taken the books. At the first bookstore where I was scheduled to appear, the copies they’d ordered had not arrived. The bookseller was reluctantly ready to cancel when I offered to bring my own books. She was glad to work it out so the books people bought at the event registered as genuine sales, essential to my publisher’s good opinion of me. Books, I thought, that’s the essential, just as experienced authors had told me.

By Day 5, I’d decided the essential was the GPS. I owed that tip to the master of book tours, Joe Konrath, whom I don’t know personally but whose 600-bookstore tour a year or two ago is legend. I got the GPS in January so I’d have time to practice, fell in love with it immediately, and quickly became completely dependent on it. Her. I call her Sadie. (I’ve since learned that almost everybody names their GPS, talks to it, and feels as if they have a relationship with it.)

Unfortunately, my own Sadie developed laryngitis the day before the start of my trip, so I had to rely on my rental car providers for a GPS. My first experience was good: Avis provided a unit that was less advanced than my own, but when I turned it on, there was Sadie. Same voice, same patience with my mistakes on the road (“Recalculating,” she says calmly), same perfect navigational timing.

Next state, next rental car: Disaster! Alamo is a lot cheaper than Avis, and their GPS is correspondingly less advanced. Not only did this strange woman—not my Sadie!—fail to announce the names of streets, but she failed to pick me up on satellite as a went around and around confusing airport boulevards, ending in a Walmart parking lot having a meltdown on the cell phone to my husband in New York. “I don’t know where I am!” I wailed. (He’s used to this. His daughter once phoned from Bruges to say she was lost, but that’s another story.)

Not-Sadie finally located me on satellite and guided me more or less to my hotel, which turned out to be a little inn so secluded that I drove around the block several times before I figured out how to arrive, as opposed to being almost there and lost again. I did ask: the next-door neighbor had never heard of it. It’s that hidden. You have to walk through a jungle to find the office. I was still getting lost between bed and breakfast the next morning.

Let’s see, what else on Day 6? No air conditioning in my tropical room. They offered to move me, but considering I still have bricks—I mean books—in my suitcase, I settled for a fan. My next-stop bookstore canceled because their books hadn’t arrived, and being a chain rather than an indie, they couldn’t make do with my copies. I called my 88-year-old cousin, who had invited her book club to that event. She didn’t think they’d mind—actually, she said she didn’t think they’d care—but there was a hitch to our plan for a nice familial visit: she was about to go to the hospital for an emergency procedure.

At that point, I decided that if you can only take one indispensable tool, forget the books. Forget the GPS. Just make sure you pack your resilience. The book tour will kill you without it.