Showing posts with label crazy fears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crazy fears. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Getting Belly-to-Belly This Holiday Season

There’s a rule in sales: Nothing replaces getting belly-to-belly with your customers. And when the economy is tough, that's the best time to find out exactly what your customers (readers) think.

As I approach folks in bookstores or scrapbook stores, I get belly-to-belly with them. I focus carefully on their faces, and I take note of their reactions. Lately, I’ve discovered “hot buttons” in my book that cause readers to want to buy Paper, Scissors, Death.

* Every woman’s nightmare is discovering her husband has been keeping their financial situation a secret. After the death of my protagonist Kiki’s husband, she discovers they are broke and in debt—and women relate to this. I shouldn’t be surprised that readers put themselves in Kiki’s Keds. I remember working at a stock brokerage years ago and seeing widows come in carrying stock certificates, which they thought could be turned in for cash. Sometimes they didn’t have access to the family checking account. Often they had no income of their own. Sometimes they discovered their names weren’t on the deeds to their property. They thought they were provided for, they had been told not to worry, but their worst fears were realized when their husbands died.

* Every woman secretly fears that whatever security and status she has in life will suddenly “go away.” When I tell them that Kiki goes from feeling on top of the social heap to the bottom, they smile. Sad smiles. They understand. I’m currently reading Queen Bees and Wannabes, which chronicles the social lives of teenage girls. Huh, the author could have been talking about grown women. We have cliques. We are NOT team players. We fear the “mean girl.” We are awash in frenemies. There are those on the “inside,” the pals of the Queen Bee, and those on the “outside,” those who are social pariahs. It doesn’t change much after high school. Oh, the real estate changes. We no longer walk the hallways or hang around by our lockers. But the behavior is ingrained.

And here’s another interesting observation: My customers say they are buying the book for “a friend.” But as they reach for their copy, they drop their eyes and add, “But I think I’ll read it first.”

It’s not just about the economy. It’s about who we are. Most women I know do more for others than we do for ourselves. In our culture, you are a "good" woman, a "good" mother, a "good" friend, if you are always available (at least emotionally) and put other people first. A woman is "selfish" if she takes time for herself--or uses family resources for her own enjoyment. Her time is not her own. Her life is not her own. As Virginia Woolf said, we need a room of our own, a sacred spot where we come first...especially during the holidays.

Last year I asked my scrapbooking friends who subscribe to my bi-monthly online magazine how they cope with holiday stress. This year, I've posted their replies on my blog http://www.joannaslan.blogspot.com/ Even as I posted them, I felt a lightening of my load. This year is particularly stressful for all of us. Never in our lifetimes have we seen such economic turmoil. I hope I can have the self-discipline to take care of myself. I hope you'll do the same.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Worry is like a rocking chair. Keeps you busy; gets you nowhere.


By Deborah Sharp

I've found another thing to worry about as my book's October debut draws near.

It's a testament to my fretting powers that I could come up with something new, given my many present concerns. There's hurricane season, a fear of horrible reviews, and the possibility that my fellow Florida voters will fail to select a president -- again -- and the ensuing media firestorm will ensure that no one pays any attention to my funny little set-in-Florida mystery.

Anyway, smearage is my current worry. If you're left-handed, you understand: ink all over the trailing, pinky-edge of your hand; an inky smear on the page, obscuring whatever you'd intended to write. I took notes in pencil for 20 years as a reporter because of smearage.

So, how am I supposed to sign books, sans smearage? Any advice from fellow lefties about truly smear-free pens?

I have to warn you, though, even if someone posts an inspired answer to this problem, other imagined crises will keep my "worry chair'' rocking.

Suppose:

Amazon crashes, and all those pre-orders disappear for
Mama Does Time (a dozen, easy, considering my husband and I have at least 12 cousins between us).

The truck heading south with my books is hurled off a bridge by a hurricane. Luckily, the driver survives, but my ruined books end up as an artificial reef.

Terrorists hijack the Internet, and I can't get access to my Google calendar or BookTour. I have no idea when or where I'm supposed to sign.

No one shows up for my signings. Or, too many people show, and we have no books.

I open my mouth at my first signing, and no words come out.
Plus, I'm naked while everyone else is fully clothed, like those dreams we all had in high school before the big test.

Y'all had those dreams, right?

Point is, even if I lick smearage, another worry will arise. I'm a glass half-empty type . . . OMG, what if we don't have enough wine glasses for my launch party? Or, what if I forget my reading glasses, and I can't even see where to sign? Or, what if someone shatters a glass at a signing and an influential book critic chokes on a sliver . . .

Maybe I'll just sit and rock a while.