Signing Bonus: claiming your stall at the inkslinger’s cattle call
by Damon Suede
(A-game Advice was a monthly column offering practical
tips for winning promo that fits your personal style, strategy,
and measure of success.
For genre authors, public signings are part of the
professional landscape. Most conventions build up to a massive
public signing, and sometimes the signing represents the entire
event.
To encourage hustle and flow, organizers often situate
name-brand authors at end caps or separated along the room’s
margins. As readers navigate a path to the big names, they may meet
new authors as well…in theory at least. Authors sit in some order so
readers can browse, grab photos, and harvest signatures. For an
event, it provides obvious press-worthy appeal: all that talent and
craft under one roof! Sure it’s chaotic and crowded, but fans have
access to personalized messages and facetime, gathering proof
they’ve really, truly spent a few moments one-on-one with their fave
writers.
Of course, with the incessant mutation of publishing, what
used to involve sixty authors may attract six hundred or more.
Worse: many readers don’t actually want physical books anymore, or
don’t hang on to the physical copies they already own. What exactly
can a signing provide these days? A lot of fans aren’t collecting
souvenirs at a signing so much as gathering evidence of their own
enthusiasm.
That’s pretty weird when you think about it. Why would
folks want to stand in line for hours to pay full price for books
they already own, just for some ink on a page or a hug or a selfie?
Because of you.
A book provides private, internal, emotional entertainment;
readers have seen through your eyes and heard you speak inside their
heads in painful and private moments that echo in their real lives.
Your voice and imagination has taken readers on wild rides across
fascinating landscapes. A signing arranges us in orderly,
interactive rows so they can find us, corralling all those stallions
under a single roof, so that the punters can come visit and give us
a lump of sugar.
Or not. What they want is not the stable, but the
ride.
With the explosion of indie and hybrid publishing, signings
have grown wildly overcrowded with authors who expect to make their
names in a couple hours sitting on their butts behind a pile of
books. Do not expect a signing to conjure fans out of thin air or
kick your career from dirt to stars. All too often, young writers
turn up on the day convinced that sitting behind a shared table in a
hotel ballroom is going to magically transform them into Sylvia Day
or Julie Garwood. This is
self-involved nonsense.
If you think about it, a signing is an atrocious place to
attract new fans: hundreds, even thousands of strangers, deafening
noise, overstimulation and distraction. It’s more of a raucous
bonfire, not a friendly backyard barbecue. Instead, treat a signing
as a place to connect with existing fans who have missed seeing you
elsewhere and to spread general enthusiasm (and publicity) for the
genre.
At best, a signing gives you a place to harvest the seeds
you’ve planted before it began, either at a convention or in your
prior career activities. Remember: the signing is not for YOU; it’s
for the readers. Treat the signing not as promotion but as service
to your genre community. This isn’t group therapy and
the readers don’t owe you anything. If you didn’t invest time prior,
don’t be surprised if no one shows.
What if you didn’t
do your job prior and no magical line of slavering minions starts
lining up at 7am to touch your hem? If you’re too lazy to lay the
tracks, don’t be shocked when the train doesn’t pass by.
That’s on you, boo. Just
sit there and eat your ego pie. Be gracious in the moment and do
better next time. Besides, it doesn’t have to be all about you.
You’re sitting in a room filled with people who love this genre and
work like hell. If someone else has a crazy line it’s because they
DID their job leading up
to today. Support them, celebrate them, learn from them.
Be thankful someone is there to show you how it’s done and
take wisdom where you find it. Before every signing the first thing
to determine your goal and the context:
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How big of a draw are you on your own? How much time, stuff, and space do you need to merit a healthy return on investment?
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Who does the event attract? How much time can you afford to spend with each visitor? What do you want to emphasize and encourage?
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Are you promoting a title, servicing existing fans, meeting new folks, supporting colleagues?
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What does your existing audience prefer, print or e-book? Swag or souvenirs? Facetime or public display?
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Do the new readers who connect with your work tend to lurk, gab, or tremble at the perimeter?
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How many copies do you need? At what cost? Are you sure? Why?
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What’s the smartest, sanest way to prepare for setup, survive the melee, and break down after?
Every signing will not be a slam dunk. Sometimes you do all
that prep, work the conference like a pro, and still no one shows
up. Too bad, so sad. In some ballrooms, you’re gonna end up a wallflower
while everyone else dances with Darcy. What to do, what to do?
Smile. Relax. Find joy in
the moment because it’s there even if it wasn’t what you expected.
You get paid to make up stories just like these other folks. That’s
a legit blessing. Be happy for your popular neighbors. Find a way to
engage with readers who do stop by, but above all be grateful
and relax.
And for heaven’s sake, please don’t hide behind your phone if you feel bored or ignored. Texting and tweeting defensively does you no favors in the personal outreach process. Anything that distracts you (or your neighbors) from the attendees for more than 15 seconds is rude and unprofessional. Rude and unprofessional is not a brand; it’s a cry for help which no one is obligated to give you. Readers got themselves into that room and they deserve your attention.
Play well with others! Because of pen names and subgenre,
organizers tend to group certain authors in clumps. Over a healthy
career, you will spend hundreds of hours sitting next to the same ten to twelve neighboring
colleagues. Respect your signing ‘hood. They will remember your
graciousness and/or your jackassery. Be a stellar ambassador for
your own brand. Share extra supplies if you can and accommodate
reasonable requests. Be a positive presence so that they’ll return
the favor. Tit for tat, yo!
Leave the megaphone and fireworks at home: you are only one
tile of this crazy mosaic. Keep it relaxed and civil and easy on the
cacophony. You’re sharing a room with anywhere from several hundred
to several thousand people. Don’t bellow like a carnival barker… let
alone shriek, whine or broadcast displeasure just to force everyone
to play a role in your personal telenovela.
Sheesh. Your colleagues
have their own fish to fry and your hysteria is not their problem.
If you can’t play nice, don’t come to the park.
Do yourself a favor by doing everyone else a favor: Help
your neighbors. Take photos. Chat openly and help freely. People
will remember the emotional experience you give them. If you’re
bitter, toxic, or whiny THAT is the emotion you attach to your
brand. If you develop a reputation as a perennial mess or a con
bully it will stick. A signing can turn into a zoo, so don’t be a
beast. Stack the deck in your favor with some basic signing
courtesy:
Pack your bags!
You should have extra pens including a Sharpie for slick surfaces,
water, breath fresheners, and lozenges. If you’re using your phone,
consider buying a small portable battery to keep it charged while
you’re on the floor.
Pen it right!
If you write under a pen name, practice that signature a few
thousand times before you show up. Make sure it feels natural and
meets brand expectations. Also learn the places you have space to
sign easily on your swag and book’s front matter.
Mind the gap.
Decide how much swag and signage is reasonable, desirable, and
ideal. Respect the space you’re given and don’t slop onto your
neighbors, even if their space is empty. Their space, their choice.
Broadcast your brand stylishly and professionally, and allow
everyone else to do the same.
Roll with it. Be ready to scrap any banners too intrusive or distracting because of event rules or hotel codes. They’re cool, but they don’t matter enough to make a scene. Better that you be known as a team player than a vicious loudmouth who can’t stay sane without a piece of overprinted vinyl.
Spell it out.
You’ll forget fan names right after they say them. Simply ask to see
their con badge or have them spell it. Always verify exact
spellings. If you botch their book, replace it graciously and eat
the cost.
Rack it up!
Consider the display options. Anything that foregrounds your book
covers and lifts reader eyes to your face is a bonus. Shop for
portable racks and mountings online. (For more options, see
our display
supply list at www.your-a-game.com/display.)
Move it along.
Whenever you attract a long line, learn to nudge them along without
rushing them. Pre-signing your books with a simple message can save
time and you can always add their name as they approach. And don’t
forget to keep your blood flowing: stretch your legs, snap photos
for your neighbors.
Keep it clean.
If things are slow, tidy your space and see if anyone else needs
help. And don’t leave your area like an abattoir. Someone has to
scrub up after, and you don’t want a reputation as a jerk.
Take a break.
Always try to set aside time to recharge before and after a signing
if humanly possible. Signings require constant, upbeat focus for
hours at a time, exhausting even the most dedicated extrovert.
Breathe. Shower. Rehydrate. Call your family. But take a moment to
clear your head and reset your psyche.
And a final sobering note: over the past few years I’ve
heard many authors say they were skipping an entire public event
because they didn’t snag a space in the signing. I’ve seen
bestsellers OUTRAGED they were compelled to sit next to a “lesser”
name who might bogart their fans. I’ve seen newbie authors show up
expecting to pay for their entire conference by selling a hundred
books. That is ridiculous. Two hours on your butt behind a table as a promo
strategy? Seriously? On
what possible basis? A signing doesn’t make you significant money,
win a larger audience, catapult you to fame and fortune, or even
promote your titles efficiently.
If you think signing
behind a table is the best reason to attend an event, you aren’t
paying attention to the numbers, the facts, or the fans.
Mythologizing signings and their mystical value to any career
betrays a deep, unprofessional myopia and a fundamental ignorance of
the industry. At best, your seat at a public signing is service to
the genre. At worst it can devolve into a childish ego-tastic
delusion. You don’t sign so fans can come pat you on the head; you
sign so that you can thank them for supporting your voice.
If you ARE a genre-defining name-brand author, sitting in
the signing is a courtesy to the event and your readers. But if you aren’t a
name-brand author with a constant line of 80 trembling fans, the
most significant, useful portion of any genre event takes place in
the days leading up to the
signing. Why would you skip the meat of the promo opportunities,
then gripe about not getting your chance to suck on the gristle and
bone left over?
A signing is not a single-focus catapult for your personal
convenience, but a gracious tide that lifts all boats.
And remember, there’s always another signing down the road.
A signing offers essential market research live and in 3D. Notice
what works, what sucks, and how you can raise your game the next
time. Learn from your mistakes and celebrate your successes. Think
about how the next signing could be better.
When you attend a signing, be clear about your goals and the obstacles between here and there. Know what a signing is and is not. Make the most of all your opportunities and invest your energy where it can improve your professional life. And then show up, pen in hand, and give the love back where it belongs.
Originally published as part of A Game Advice for the Romance Writers Report.
If you wish to republish this article, just drop me a line.