speaking to book clubs

There's been a thread on the Guppies (Great Unpublished) list lately about the value of speaking to local book clubs. I'm all in favor of it. Granted the audience is small, but if they like you and your book, they'll spread the word. Tonight I spoke to the "Berkeley Babes," a neighborhood group with a name that some acknowledge as incongruous. One said to me, maybe it was appropriate years ago when the club was formed and the members were indeed "babes."
Tonight they met at a  local restaurant on the patio--a lovely evening and perfect setting. The friend who invited me said they made it a rule that visiting authors could not sell books, which was a bit of a disappointment, so I took bookmarks. Turns out I needn't have worried: all but one of the fourteen women present had read (and presumably purchased) my book, which made disicussion all the much easier. We drank wine, ate salads, and they munched on pizza, which I declined. Then I spoke about the book, finding that once I've done it, extemporaneous was easy for me. I had some notes that the dog chewed and I was going to take them as a joke, but forgot--and the gimmick wasn't needed. I talked about how I got the idea for the book, the publication process, agents, etc.--talked maybe for 15 minutes--and then opened it for questions. They had lots of them, and there was lively discussion for at least thirty, maybe forty-five minutes. At the end, I had one prospective sale (she'd been traveling and hadn't read the book) and ten new friends (four of those present are in my writing class, and I may have picked up some intrest in that). But those ten new friends will, I hope, tell their friends about the mystery they read and the author who spoke to them.
I have three more book clubs and a university employees book group coming up shortly, with the probability of at least one more book club. . Small audiences, but worth the time. And good practice in speaking to promote my book. Word may spread from those and garner me more invitations. Lots better than sitting at a table in a bookstore watching people walk by and avoid looking at me--though I may do some of that too.
I always remember Jane Roberts Wood's Train to Estelline. Jane made it a hit by talking to every small group she could find. I think she's a good role model. If you really want to promote your book, no group is too small, no effort not worth making--with a smile.
A note of confusion: last night's post about Spam was meant to go on Potluck with Judy. I get mixed up easily between the two, and it ended on Judy's Stew. So I hope you enjoyed it. Yay, Spam!

Tongue-tied before an audience

Jungle Red Writers, one of my favorite blogs, had a segment today on the various members experiences on TV and radio--most had funny stories to tell of disasters. I've had my share of those too. In a small town in Missouri in the early '60s I used to host a program called, I think, "The People's Health." I'd interview doctors about various health problems: "Tell me, doctor, if I have a pain inmy side is it apprendicitis?" Generally it went fairly well, and I was comfortable. But that was radio.
I've been interviewed on local TV and done a few interview programs myself--30 minutes talking with an author. When someone interviewed me, I was fairly comfortable with it. But when I was doing the interviewing and they'd flash that "15 minutes" card, I'd think, "Omigosh, I"m only halfway through." Somehow I always muddled along the rest of the way, and it went fine, but I don't leap at TV opportunities.
My children, on the other hand, were seasoned TV personalities at an early age. They appeared, twice I think, on a program called "Hobab," which somehow means helper. Once they all sat in a row, and the hostess asked them what they did to help their mother. The older three jumped in--they made their beds, the cleaned their rooms, they helped with dishes. I mean, they were really angels. Jordan, who couldn't have been more than four, looked at them all as if she'd never seen them before. When it was her turn, she said, "The maid does all that." Later, the hostess asked if they knew policemen were their friends. Again, the older ones gave the pat answers, but Jordan said, "And if you don't have a Cadillac or a Mercedes,they will help you get one." Honest! The days of maids, Cadillacs and Mercedes disappeared quite soon after when I became a single parent, but I've always loved remembering that show.
In truth, my son-in-law Christian is the pro in the famiily, having been a child model and appeared in various TV series--Christian, so sorry I can't remember the names of them but you were charming. Besides, I knowo he doesn't like talking about it a lot now.
Lord knows I've done a ton of public speaking in my time but to this day it makes me nervous. I am quite comfortable with a book club or other small group, and I love doing q&a but I get bored listening to myself talk for 20-30 minutes. I get part way through and think, "How far is it to the end/" A good friend of mine always protests, "You do such a good job, I don't know why you're so reluctant." For a while, I just turned down speaking engagements, but now, with Skeleton in a Dead Space, to promote, I'm getting out at it again. Tomorrow night I will speak to an expected audience of 75 women at University Baptist Church, but it will be an interview format, and the interviewer is a good friend who does a great job at that. She has interviewed me for programs before, and we always have a good time. So I'm dipping my toe in the water.
But today I spoke in an entirely different setting. A good friend died on Thursday and her daughter asked me to speak at the service. At first I waffled, but my youngest daughter and my brother both said, "Of course you will." Jordan pointed out that Connie was so precious to me I had to speak in her memory. And I knew it was an honor to be asked. So with nerves on edge, I spoke--briefly--which I think is appropriate in that situation. I only stumbled once--by somehow starting to substitute the name of the protagonist in my current novel for Connie's name--but Jordan said I recovered quickly and nicely. I was glad to be able to honor Connie with my memories of times with her--good times, mostly lunches that we both enjoyed. But the relationship goes way back and involves another story--not for here.
I have two additons to this post: one is that I am relieved beyond measure by the verdict in the Amanda Knox case. I wish her godspeed back to her old life which, of course, she'll never be able to recover. But I hope she can move on to a new and fulfilling life. Someone said they see a book deal in the future--I sincerely hope publishers don't start hounding her right away and that her family continues to be her advocate and protection.

And finaly, this picture. Kindergarten homework sure wears a guy out--and his grandmother.

The Seasoned (?) Traveler

Home tonight after two-and-a-half days in El Paso. A seasoned traveler, I'm not. Got the DFW only to discover that my drivers license and debit card were in my blue jeans at home. They settled for a TCU i.d. card, a cedit card, and a health insurance card. Same thing today at the El Paso airport only it was worse--singled out for a mild pat-down because of the metal zipper on my jacket--forgot to take the jacket off and they have the full body scan, which DFW doesn't have yet. Then they announced they'd have to check my luggage--never did find out why, but a polite man rummaged through my small carry-on, passed some kind of cloth-covered wand over all of it, and then said he'd have to re-scan my bag plus two individual items--my metal collapsible walking stick, which I had collapsed and put in the bag and the jar of ceramic bits that are supposed to dry out my hearing aids at night. I had to explain to him what that was. Doesn't anyone else take those things when they travel, of all the hearing challenged people in our world? Finally he asked if I'd like help repacking, and I was tempted to say, "No, you've done a good job of jamming it all back in there," but he was really so polite and so courteous when he wished me a good flight and a good day, that I simply thanked him. And went and had a glass of wine at the airport cafe.
If I'm not a seasoned traveler, I'm not an easy one either. I feel like the little old lady who when taken for her first plane ride and then asked how she liked it said it was fine but she never put her full weight down. I never put my full weight down when I'm away from home. I used to be much more nervous about flying than I am now and I still don't like to fly alone, but I'm pretty much okay on a plane--with some wine. But when the friend in front of me said if the plane crashed, there'd be a whole lot of history teaching jobs in North Texas, I told him it wasn't funny (we had been to the Texas State Historical Society meeting). And in the cafe another history prof managed to tell me that one of the survivors of the Titanic had been inebriated, and he always took that into consideration.
I went to the TSHA meeting to deliver a paper, another thing--not that I'm not good at it (everyone says I am and several people went directly to the exhibits to buy my books where, of course, they weren't available but could be ordered!). But it makes me nervous. Once again though the relaxation of retirement came through, and I really felt better about this paper--very non-scholarly in a highly scholarly atmosphere. At first I said I'd write the paper and someone else could read it  since I wouldn't be in El Paso, but good friend Carol Roark persuaded me to go with her and share a room, and she was a saint about letting me hold on when I lost my balance (which is often in a strange city). I also went because I would see lots of old friends--and I did, including people who said kind words about my work at TCU Press and particularly a historical biographical series that I had helped get started. Mostly though I visited with people near and dear to me, so it ws a good time.
But I'm glad to be home and catching up. I had looked forward to seeing my dog and cat, eating a pimiento sandwich, and settling at my desk, all of which I've done. The animals were ravenous, but I know they were fed this morning.
Tomorrow: adventures in El Paso, because I mostly travel on my stomach, and outside the meetings, our adventures almost all involved food, some good, some not so good.

Comments, comedy, and grocery shopping

I was thrilled today to receive notice that Darren Fleming, public speaking coach of Australia, had posted a comment on my blog. Imagine that! Someone in Australia is reading what I write. Thanks, Darren. And it's comforting to know that people who are good at public speaking are often nervous about it. I don't think I've overcome the nervousness, but I've shown myself I can rise above it--and that's a great thing.
A bit of comedy from tha speech. I was telling the women about Miriam "Ma" Ferguson, the first woman elected governor in the United States. (She wasn't the first in office because Nellie Ross of Wyoming beat her to it when her husband died and she was appointed in his place.) Miriam wanted nothing more than to stay home, raise her daughters, and work in her garden. But Ma (her daughter says they would never have dared call her that!) ran at her husband's request, because he had been impeached, and she needed to restore the family honor. I told the ladies if that reminded them of Hillary and Bill . . . . and then, knowing I was in Republican country, I let the comment trail off. They laughed heartily.
But the next day, by serendippity, someone forwarded me a column from the Washington Post that compared Hillay and Bill to the Fergusons, named me as a Fort Worth writer and winner of the 2005 Owen Wister Award for Lifetime Achievement (still a biggie for me, and I love to see it in print), and quoted from the book. Needless to say, I got the big head, and my publisher was ecstatic.
It's been very cold here, and today was better but still cold. Still it was sunny and bright and a happy kind of day. I picked up my friend Charles--he's 91, and I don't like to let him drive--and we went for spinach enchiladas. Then I dragged him to Central Market, which he called an "interesting experience" and said he was "learning the ropes" (it is different than shopping in most markets--you package vegetables in a plastic bag, weigh them after punching in a code, and slap on a sticker with the price). Charles called me the queen of scratch--I asked him what he meant, and he said it was because I only bought things to cook from scratch! Of course. No TV meals for me.
Tonight is predicted to be very cold again, but I am tucked in for the evening. I've done some good work today--drafted a white paper (I really don't understand that term, but I wrote something about the women's writing series we propose for a support grant), wrote up some notes for a cookbook, and keyed in some recipes for the Great Chefs of Texas book. Think I'll quit and go back to reading Writing in an Age of Silence by Sara Paretsky. From the little I've read, I find that's she's more militant, angrier than I expected--but that's not a fair judgement because I haven't read enough yet.
My long weekend will be pleasant. Good friends are coming for soup and salad tomorrow night, and Monday I'll meet old friends for lunch and then cook a new (and experimental) pasta recipe for two good women friends. We meet occasionally on Monday nights and call it "Girls Night Out."

Public Speaking 101--and a succeess

Years ago, I used to force myself to give talks and speeches, figuring it was essential to promote TCU Press and my own writing--if you don't get out and talk about your books, no one buys them. I know from the press that the most successful authors are those who are willing to go out and speak to groups and who will take the risk of an autographing where no one shows up. I still don't mind the autographings but several years ago I decided no more speaking. My career had advanced as much as it was going to, I reasoned, and the anticipation before public speaking made me so nervous it wasn't worth the effort. Friend and mentor Jim Lee kept saying, "I don't know why you won't speak. You're really good at it." But I was firm.
Somehow a few months ago, my resolve cracked. A woman I'd met and emailed with asked me to speak at a luncheon at the Pecan Plantation Country Club. It's easy to agree to do something that's months away. We also agreed that Katie Sherrod, editor of Grace & Gumption, would also speak.
This morning that months-away event was right up in my face--10 o'clock at a country club an hour from Fort Worth. I didn't feel the panic I used to feel--medication must be working--and I hadn't prepared in laborious detail. I used to write out speeches word for word, then repeat them endlessly in the privacy of my bedroom--the children had a nanny who told them, "Your mother is talking to her papers again." This time I had a one page outline of things to cover. I planned to be Katie's warm-up act. Yes, as I waited through the inevitable, interminable business meeting, I was a little apprehensive but not really nervous. Then, at the last minute, I had to change my plan because there was a woman in the audience whom I'd spoken to by phone several years ago and whose great-grandmother's story gave me the bones for a young-adult novel.
So off the cuff I began with that, then launched into my "accidental" careeer as a writer for children and young adults. I told them about my first novel, then the rejection I got that said my writing was "pedestrian," and about the editor who says when I write for second-graders he just cuts my sentences in half! I showed them the five books I've done in the Stars of Texas series and told just a bit about each. And I ended with the story of a substitute teacher in granddaughter Maddie's room who announced to the class, "Maddie has brought her grandmother today because she has wrote some books." You know what? They laughed throughout, and afterward, Katie and I were both complimented on our senses of humor (we were surprised that the women were surprised!). Women kept coming up to us to say it was one of the best programs they'd ever had (Katie is always polished, funny, thought-provoking, and perfectly relaxed, so I hadn't worried about her!) They also commented on the rapport between us as we easily passed the mike back and forth during a Q&A session--well, why not? We're good friends. I will add that in addition to the ego boost we got a terrific lunch, including the richest chocolate ice cream I've had in forever.
It's a wonderful feeling to do something well that had worried you. So now I'm home--a glass of wine, a nap, and dinner with my friend Betty. Life looks pretty good.