Weird Thoughts: Crossing The Street Equivalents?
I feel bad about my dog’s leash, but she’d be dead in minutes if I let her loose. She doesn’t know about looking both ways, you see. If some other dog catches her eye, she’ll make a beeline for that dog on the other side of the road, even if traffic’s coming.
Thing is, at one point I was as dumb as my dog. I had the benefit of language and training, so my parents taught me to “look both ways before you cross the street,” and so I managed to learn about a grave and constant danger that could kill me.
And I wondered: native Americans didn’t have cars. But they must have had some equivalent of the “look both ways” lesson – some fatal ignorance that got poor kids killed unless they learned it. One suspects it’s the “don’t wander off into the woods” lesson, given all the Grimm’s fairytales about kids ending poorly after loping off… but that’s not quite an equivalent, given that it’s something we still have to teach kids today, albeit in a modified form. (“Don’t wander off into the store” remains a classic source of parental panic.)
I suspect a direct equivalent to the “look both ways” lesson is one that I, a fairly intelligent man in another civilization, would not have internalized. Just as a tribal dude from deep jungles brought to America wouldn’t have any particular instincts to “look both ways before crossing this path.” (Maybe he’d suss it out, if he was lucky enough to be in an area with enough traffic, but given that he doesn’t routinely deal with speeding hunks of death lurching at him from nowhere, he certainly wouldn’t default to it.)
So what is this outdoors-specific lesson that I probably would not know? Well, I don’t know.
Maybe you do?
So Who'd Come See Me In Oregon?
So I’m planning my book tour, and trying to get a Portland/Eugene stop – but I have no idea how many people I know in Oregon. So if you’d be in either area, and would come see me do a reading in the March 20th-31st range, do me a favor and leave a comment here so I know? (Also tell me which area, or potentially both in the unlikely event you’re willing to drive that far.)
This is a super-quick turnaround time, so if you know of someone who would attend, tap ’em on the shoulder for me? Thanks, you lovely Oregon people.
(Not-so-subtle hint: Don’t worry, Seattle, I gotcha covered.)
Quiet, Effective Ways Of Book Promotion: The Humble Hyperlink
One of the best ways to promote your book involves HTML. You know what you need to learn?
The hyperlink.
Because too many damn authors talk about their books in the abstract, with mushy comments like this:
“I had my baby shortly after I got the idea for my second book, so I had to juggle changing diapers and writing…”
Which is nice, but hey! Which book did you write? What’s the name? Where’s it published?
Just add this:
“I had my baby shortly after I got the idea for Hot Lesbian Alligators, my second book, so I had to juggle changing diapers and writing…”
Now, the trick to this is to be a functioning human being. If three out of every four comments you write make reference to Your Fantastic Book, then smack yourself in the genitals and try again. But if you’re an author, eventually your book will come up – and when it does, just quietly drop in the name so we can look if we’re interested.
Don’t go out of your way to promote the book. Don’t make funny ha-ha jokes like adding “(BUY IT NOW)” after mentioning it. Your book is a friend, you see, and when you mention a friend you’re proud of you name them, so treat it like that.
And yeah, there are people who will yell at you for that mild level of self-promotion. Fuck those assholes. Assuming you’re not bending every conversation to revolve around the twisted spoke of Hot Lesbian Alligators, mentioning that your book exists is not overpromotion. Particularly if you’re a woman or a minority, you’re battered on a daily basis to not mention your achievements, so you self-sabotage before you even start – and all the while, talentless white guys like me shamelessly trumpet their books like they were Jesus announcing his sequel to the Bible.
(When Jesus writes the Biblical sequel, it will be called – say it with me – Hot Lesbian Alligators. Jesus has gotten way more modern in His parables.)
So don’t be afraid to mention it, unless the forum specifically says not to, or a moderator complains. Let no one make you ashamed for mentioning the existence of your book. As long as you’re not making any claims to its quality, you’re merely saving the curious a potentially-fruitless Google search, and as such you’re actually doing people a favor if they’re sufficiently interested in you that they want to follow down to your books.
So remember. Hyperlink that motherfucker.
Witness My New, Book-Themed Nails!
So for ConFusion, I asked my Mad Manicurist Ashley to do me up with books and bookcases. Let’s see how she did:
Beautiful. As usual.
Oh, speaking of books, the Cleveland Book Release party for Flex will be on Friday, March 6th. Details to come later, but reserve your calendar now! Come out to see me, so I’m not standing pathetically alone in a pile of books! HALP
So This Appears To Be Actually Happening.
The weird thing about being an author is that months pass by when you are not. As a general rule, you don’t get a lot of feedback as an author, particularly when you write short stories; maybe a couple of Twitter-mentions, maybe Lois Tilton reviews your tale, but mostly you write a story and it vanishes after a month and then you’re back to zilch.
I mean, you know you’re an author; you’re writing. You’re talking to other writers. But the feedback from the world is negligible.
And selling a novel is weird, because the feedback comes in clusters. You get the acceptance, and it’s all WOO I CAN’T TELL MY FRIENDS YET HOLY GOD SIGN THE CONTRACT SIGN THE CONTRACT. Then you make the announcement, and it’s a voluminous roar from your friends.
Then nothing. Weeks and weeks of nothing.
Then you get the edits! A flurry of activity.
Then nothing.
Then you get the copyedits! A flurry of activity!
Then nothing.
Then the proofing! And holy crap, is that more boring than I can convey!
And then weeks and weeks of nothing.
So my novel has been A Thing in my life, but months have passed by where it might as well have not existed. You just sort of go on cruise control, like ya do with stories, where you wait for things to happen.
And now, things are starting to heat up.
After months of delay, the Advanced Reader Copies for reviewers are up on NetGalley. People are starting to talk about this not just as “Hey, that thing that Ferrett is doing,” but as an actual book that they’re excited about. I’m planning podcasts, blog tours, publicity – and for the record, if you want me to make a post for your blog or talk on your show, talk to me, I’ll go just about anywhere.
There’s that shivering excitement of knowing that strangers now have your book in their hands, and you hope they like it.
You oscillate between hope and despair – I’ll sell ten thousand copies! No, you’ll be lucky to sell five hundred. This will be a success! They’ll hate it. You’ve done everything you can – for me, sending in the final proofs felt slightly despairing, like, “This book is now as literally as good as it’s going to get” – and so you have that feeling of the roller coaster ratcheting upwards, knowing there’s a drop coming, unable to see over that rise in front of you.
Reviews are coming. And you’re either Ned Stark or Littlefinger.
Last night, I spent an hour writing, then an hour prepping an excerpt of my book to be read aloud in a podcast, then I answered interview questions for an hour. The work is starting. I’m still coordinating book tours, trying to figure out how all this works, getting the signing…
…and I know this will eventually explode. In March there will be a flurry of Goodreads reviews, people telling me they loved it or hated it, I’ll watch my Amazon rating like it was my heartbeat when I was in the ER for cardiac arrest.
And sometime – I expect in May – it’ll all fade again. It’ll become Just Another Book, the last thing people read, and it’ll probably have a little more traction than a short story, but this will dwindle to backlist. It’ll be something I discuss, but the excitement? Over. Except for a few fans who, hopefully, will tell me how much they loved it. (I hope I hope.) I’ll have something to sign at conventions at long last.
But for right now, I’m in that zone where I can’t quite see the drop, but the rollercoaster is rattling harder, and I hear the people out in front whooping. Is that a good whoop, and this is going to be a joyous ride? Is it a bad whoop, where you discover this next rush is lame?
I don’t know.
Yet I can feel the pull of it. Something is happening. I’ve never gone over this hill before. It’s going to be weirdly exciting even if the book flops – all the talking I’ll do, all the preparation, all the people treating these words I churned out like they were just some other book on the shelves.
I’m transitioning from “Oh my God this is important to me” to “Oh my God this is one of thousands of books published this year.” It’ll be brutal. It’ll be eye-opening. It may even be profitable.
It’s coming, and the next six weeks are only going to get crazier.
Why Pick-Up Artists Work, I Think.
Pick-up artists. I have such a love/hate relationship with these guys. I love that there’s someone out there trying to teach socially awkward men how to get the physical affection they need…
…but then in the process of gamifying the system, they proceed to objectify women and make sex into a competition. Eventually women become like climbing mountains, where they start finding increasingly ridiculous challenges that they don’t even particularly want – they just need to take these new skills for a spin. They rank women to measure their challenges, becoming what they despise in the process.
Anyway, there’s a lot of framework and standardization among pick-up artists. You gotta “peacock,” wearing gaudy things so women will have something to comment on. (I can vouch this works, as my casual conversations with women have tripled since I got my pretty pretty princess nails.)
You go out and “neg” women, subtly insulting them to show how thoroughly Not Impressed you are. (I can also vouch this works, as it’s something I sorta do semi-organically – I don’t set out to take pretty girls down a peg, but so many women are surrounded by men who are terrified to express an opinion, lest they accidentally drive this pretty girl away. Saying, “Holy crap, NO!” on occasion actually makes you more interesting, as you’re exhibiting a form of confidence. I dislike outright insult just to drop them into defensive mode, though.)
You trot out well-worn anecdotes to try to get into the sack. (*cough*)
The thing is, the pick-up routine becomes an obsession for these guys. They fine-tune the approach. They start excluding variables. They work on it like it was a stand-up routine, constantly polishing every aspect from the opener to the closer, and…
…I don’t know how necessary that whole schtick is.
See, I don’t think the routines of the pick-up artists are as key as they think – it’s just that women like casual sex as much as men do. And while most guys claim they just want sex, it turns out they actually want commitment in a frightening way that creeps up around the edges. They say women are the commitment-hungry gender, but holy God I’ve known so many dudes who had a one-night stand with someone they liked and could not let that shit go.
A lot of women are actually fine with casual sex. It’s just that guys often try to sneak in “committed sex” under the guise of “casual sex,” and when that doesn’t work out for them then holy shit, let’s unleash a sewery tide of slut-shaming on this bitch who dared to spread her legs for me.
What a great reward system you’ve devised, guys!
So I think the routine isn’t all that important. Expressing yourself as a confident person who’s not going to follow her around for the next six weeks, constantly calling after she’s made the mistake of hooking up with you? That, my friend, is key.
I think that’s one of the reasons I – a pudgy, bug-eyed neurotic – has gotten as much sex as I have. I like you. I want to have sex with you. It’s not going to be more than that unless you want it to be. And given my lack of skills in many areas, that open-yet-unattached approach been surprisingly effective.
But hey. I get the need for a routine, in some cases. Particularly if you’re socially anxious, having the confidence of a script can help you gain the strength to talk to an attractive stranger. Breaking the ice is fucking terrifying, especially when rejections can be so offhandedly cruel, and that’s why despite my reservations about PUAs I can’t say there’s not a need for at least some of what they do.
Seriously, though. I think if you can just be actually legitimately okay with casual sex, you’d be surprised at how often it’ll happen. Even for someone like me.