The most awkward part about publishing a book – other than when no one attends your book signing – is trying to sell copies to family members.
Case in point:
In 2015, one week before actual Christmas, I celebrated the holiest of holidays with my extended family. It was a wonderful opportunity to catch up with uncles and aunts and cousins, to reunite as a family in commemoration of the birth of our Savior Jesus Christ, and to discover something wonderfully spiritual about myself through the sharing of love and joy with blood relatives.
Who was I kidding?!!! I was there to sell my book, Will Write For Food.
The timing seemed perfect, for there was still one week of Christmas shopping left. I figured my book just might be the ideal solution to my family members’ last minute shopping needs. The perfect stocking stuffer. It was my opportunity to prey upon their procrastination, to pray for pity purchases for a much-beloved relative (me).
What could be more convenient for them than to walk to my nearby car trunk for a book? Potentially there could be 40 or so books sold on that day at $15 a whack. God, I love Christmas.
Not wanting to appear too obvious, I devised the perfect marketing scheme. I gave one to our party’s host, my aunt Jane, as a Christmas gift. I squeezed it into a shiny red gift bag, one shallow enough for the title of my book to stick out for passersby to see.
When I arrived, Jane was in the kitchen, loading the serving platters with roast beast.
“Merry Christmas, Jane. Here’s a gift,” I said.
I noticed her fingers were glistening with meat stuff. I really didn’t want her to pull the book out of the bag with those messy hands, making it less appealing to others. You don’t see meat juice on books in Barnes & Noble. No one would buy a meat-juiced book.
Jane removed the book before I could intervene. I hoped relatives were watching, but everyone seemed selfishly involved in listening to the latest news of other’s lives around them. I stamped my foot on the floor a few times like an angry horse to draw attention – I also whinnied and snorted.
One person did notice, the neighbor lady standing near Jane in the kitchen.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Scotty wrote a book,” Jane said. Though I am in my 50s, my aunts still call me Scotty.
“Oh my,” the woman said.
She seemed impressed. The book hook was set. I started to shove my way through the crowd en route to the car trunk to retrieve a book for my new customer. She was well into her 90s. I knew I needed to act fast. Before I could kick aside a couple of toddler cousins to reach the front door, I heard Jane tell the woman, “You can read my copy when I’m done.” The neighbor thought that was a lovely idea. Jane re-gifted my gift in my presence.
Suddenly, not only was my aunt Jane the driving force behind this family gathering, but she was also a living, breathing, lending library. What a Scrooge!
I was down $30: $15 for giving Jane a book and $15 for the blocked book purchase. Merry Christmas, everybody – but me!!!!!!!
Circa 2015: Scott didn’t sell any books that day, but he sure did give away a lot of cookies. (Photo provided)
Jane put the book on a counter where it was basically hidden from sight, nowhere near the start of the buffet line – the ideal placement I had in my mind. When her back was turned, I placed the book on the upright piano near the center of the gathering space. I removed the book from the bag and placed it face up so that not only could people see the title, but they could also see my face plastered on the cover, along with my name. One would safely assume the Saalman name on the book cover would draw some interest since, by all accounts, this was a Saalman gathering, thus triggering someone to inquire about its availability – though I didn’t want anyone to ask loud enough for Jane to hear (she might add them to her copy’s waiting list).
The piano was a perfect spot for my book. I congratulated myself for having the forethought to load my wallet with $5 bills to use as change for relatives who carried only $20 bills.
Before the book-buying frenzy could begin, the worst thing that could possibly happen happened. It was announced that my 10-year-old cousin Alaina, Jane’s mega-cute granddaughter, was selling Girl Scout cookies!!! Relatives expressed excitement. Wallets and purses were immediately opened, starting a cookie spree – even though there were plenty of desserts in the kitchen.
What? I thought. When did Girl Scouts start selling cookies on Christmas???!!! How opportunistic was that? Can you believe how low Jane stooped? I bet this was the real reason she hosted the family Christmas.
The cookie order form was placed atop my book, completely hiding Will Write For Food.
I noticed that no one offered to share their cookie boxes with others. Alaina sold enough Thin Mints to create a diabetes pandemic. I sold zero books that day.
Well played, Aunt Jane. Well played.
It wasn’t as bad as a book burning, but my book was definitely burnt by a cookie.
Contact: scottsaalman@gmail.com