Heartbreakers

Welcome to Day 3 of Honesty Week.

My friend Ron Franscell said something a couple of years ago, when I was just getting my legs under me, and it has stuck with me since: "You think when you've landed that publishing contract that the rejection is behind you. Unfortunately, a whole new group of people has lined up to reject you."

I didn't necessarily get what he was saying at the time. I've had a graduate course in his wisdom since.

Consider:

Bookstores: For every wonderfully helpful manager I've met at chain stores — and Billings, where I live, has been beyond lucky with Lorrie Niles at Barnes & Noble, Gustavo Bellotta at Hastings and Jacob Tuka at Borders (RIP) — I've dealt with three who didn't return calls, who seemed uninterested (at best) about setting up a signing or a reading, who didn't seem the least interested in, you know, selling books. That surprised me. I always figured my compact with bookstores worked like this: If the store was kind enough to stock my book, I would do my level best to come help move it into readers' hands. And I put my money, literally, behind that view. I drove hundreds and hundreds of miles around this state with 600 Hours of Edward in an effort to sell that book. If I were to plot it on a straight P&L ledger, the numbers wouldn't look very good for me. So it's a little disheartening to say, essentially, "Hey, how about I spend $70 on gas and a day of my life to help you sell my book?" and to hear "Eh."

The independent bookstores, by and large, have been much better experiences, because indies realize that they stand out in the book trade by being curators and experts, and part of that stems from their close relationships with authors. For as long as they'll have me, I'll always venture down the street to Thomas Books (Susan Thomas), to Bozeman's The Country Bookshelf (Ariana Paliobagis), to Fact & Fiction in Missoula (Barbara Theroux), to Red Lodge Books (Gary Robson), to The Bookstore in Dillon (Debbie Sporich), to Liberty Bay Books in Poulsbo, Wash. (the tireless Suzanne Droppert). These booksellers and the stores they run with care and love are essential to their communities.

Libraries: I hear this all the time: "Libraries are always in need of good programming for their patrons." That's fantastic. Here's my response: "Call me. I will come."

Fortunately for me, several have called. Big, big love to Parmly Billings Library, the Ronan City Library, the Stillwater County Library, the North Richland Hills (Texas) Public Library, the Chouteau County Library, and others.

But this post is about rejection, so here's a little story: Back in the fall of 2009, right after Edward came out, I pitched a program to a Friends of the Library group here in Montana. A couple of weeks later, I received this curt reply:

"The Friends board met and decided not to sponsor a reading from your latest book.  I hope you can find a venue for your reading in the near future."

Two months later, I'm at a ceremony where Edward is named a Montana Honor Book, and someone from that particular Friends of the Library board approaches me and says, "If we'd only known …" Indeed.

Look, I get it. Nobody can say yes to everybody. But a writer who's just starting out needs breaks, needs someone to say yes. I badly needed that, and by the time we got to "If we'd only known …" I didn't need it quite so much anymore. Further, this was a Montana library group, considering a book by a Montana author, released by a well-regarded Montana publisher. I've never asked a library for anything more than some time, a place and the opportunity to sell some books. This was not a difficult "yes," and yet, it was still "no." Until, of course, it was "if we'd only known …"

So what I'm saying is, try "yes." It won't kill you.

This is my point.

Reviewers: Ha! The auspices of Honesty Week reach only so far. My personal ethic is that I'll never get in a pissing war with a reviewer. So, I'll say simply that in my dream world, reviewers would do three things:

1. Regard a book for what it attempts to be, not against some mythical measuring stick that has, say, Ulysses at the top and Breaking Dawn at the bottom.

2. Remove personal prejudices from the equation to whatever degree possible.

3. Present the good and the bad. I distrust any review that leaves out one of those.

Readers: Readers are kind and wonderful and have incredible taste.

You see, it's also Smarm Week.