Capitalist Voodoo vs. The Storm
A bookish trip turns into an unexpected adventure
Last week I went to Seattle and nearly got stuck in a blizzard.
I flew to Seattle for the American Booksellers Association Winter Institute. It’s basically the industry conference where booksellers gather to discuss the state of the business, meet with former colleagues, and find out what books everyone’s excited about in 2023. I was there to throw my new novel into the ring.
It’s a true conference and not a book fair like BEA or an MFA-polooza like AWP. (If you don’t know what these acronyms stand for, believe me, you’re better off for it.) Neither the publishers nor the bookstores have booths or stalls so people are just kind of roaming around attending panels and luncheons like free range book nerds.
For me, it was a great opportunity to meet with my publisher, Tyson Cornell at Rare Bird, and talk about all the things that would take nine million emails to cover. Plus, I like Tyson so we talk about stuff unrelated to the book world—like tattoos. I caught up with him at a party thrown by indie publishers where there was an open bar and free tattoos, which is never a good combination. Tyson told me I should get a free tattoo and I politely declined but he said this to everyone who came by the table. No one took him up on his suggestion but there were more than a few intoxicated young booksellers who went home with an “I love books” tattoo.
I had a free day in the middle of the conference, which I spent driving down to Portland to interview a writer for the LA Times. It was a fairly ambitious endeavor. My plan was to get up in the morning and write for an hour, walk to the train station, take the light rail to the rental car facility by the airport, rent a car, drive to Portland, interview the writer, and then turn around and repeat the process in the opposite direction.
At 8:30 in the morning I walked out of my hotel in downtown Seattle with a cup of coffee in my hand and stopped in my tracks. Snow was falling. Not only was it falling but it was sticking and the roads were already covered with a thin dusting of snow.
This was not good. I took an Uber to the station and by the time I got to the car rental facility at SEATAC it had stopped snowing. I’d outrun the snow. Or so I thought…
My rental was a mini-SUV Buick Encore from Hertz. One of my first jobs was at a Buick dealership (I was a lot lizard for the rental and leasing outfit) and when I was in advertising I worked on the Hertz account for longer than I care to admit. I hoped that this little bit of capitalist voodoo would protect me on my journey.
About an hour outside of Seattle it started to rain and somewhere near the Oregon border it began to snow. Big, thick flakes tossed about in the gusting winds like ladies with hoop skirts in old fashioned movies. As I approached Portland the snow was getting to be a problem, slowing traffic and causing accidents. My phone kept lighting up with new alternative routes. Every half-hour or so I texted the writer I was interviewing with my new ETA and eventually I just stopped. I’d get there when I got there.
I arrived in one piece. The interview went well—so well in fact that I forgot all about the snow that was accumulating outside. (Much more about this writer and their new book next month.) When we wrapped up the formal part of the interview it became clear that if I wanted to get back to Seattle, and I really needed to get back to Seattle, my window was rapidly closing.
Looking out the window the streets were covered in snow and it was piling on top of my rental car at an alarming rate. I packed up my gear, said my goodbyes, and headed off into the snow. The roads were a mess but my little Buick Encore had a manual mode and I kept it in low gear. The roads were shit but I played Bobby Beausoliel’s Lucifer Rising, which regular readers know is what I listen to during take-off on airplanes. I felt calm, stayed mellow, and marveled at the clusterfuck unfolding all around me. Cars sliding, cars spinning out, cars getting stuck. I saw one guy on an electric scooter, riding along the ruts, somehow keeping it together.
When I was in boot camp at Great Lakes, Illinois, on the coldest day of the year, our instructors told us to put on all the clothes we had (undershirt, turtleneck, work shirt, blue jacket and peacoat). The roads were so slippery and slick it was impossible to march cohesively as we’d been training for months to do. The cadence caller cried out, “Common sense, march!” and we all made our way to the galley as best we could. That’s what I did in Portland. “Common sense, drive.” If I was alone on the road I ignored stop signs and stop lights, pumped my brakes, and went through the intersection. The rules are meant to keep us safe but that day called for a new set of rules.
I made it to the freeway where I was moving in the opposite direction of traffic but it was still snowing and the slush on the roads was starting to harden as it got colder and darker. It didn’t stop snowing until well after I crossed the state line and pulled over in Kelso for more coffee. Everyone at the gas station wanted to know if I’d come from Portland or Seattle. Snow was general over the northwest and people were worried about making it home safe. When I got back in my little Buick Encore, it started snowing again. It went from snow to freezing rain and back again for the rest of my journey. Somewhere around Tacoma the weather finally cleared up.
Whether it was the sight of all those magnificent trees covered in snow, the way the lights caught the swirling snowfall, or the threat of imminent death, I had all these ideas for my work in progress. Not so-and-so needs to do such-and-such in Chapter 18 but visions of horses standing in frozen fields, decapitations, swords. You know, the usual. It was a wild, wild night.1
And then by 9 pm, twelve ours after my odyssey began, I was back in my hotel room, checking email, needlessly worrying about the luncheon I was to attend the following day. In other words, back on my bullshit.
The author luncheon wasn’t really a luncheon, at least not for me and the other authors lined up in a row in a massive reception hall. I sat at a table with a stack of advance review copies of my book, and talked to whoever wanted to talk to me. Sometimes lines would form, which was exciting, though everyone tried not to take up too much time. Some authors had long lines but I liked it when there was just one person and we could talk as long as we wanted. It was all very pleasant. Book people are nice people. Thanks to the invitations I received, the Make It Stop book tour is going to be much more ambitious.
Make It Stop events
I’ve been talking in very general terms about Make It Stop so here are some specifics.
April 11: The Book Catapult in San Diego with Patrick Coleman
April 15: Skylight Books in LA
April 22 & 23: LA Times Festival of Books
April 26: Book Soup in LA with Terese Svoboda
In early May I’ll have some more events in the southwest, including stops in Phoenix and Tucson.
Then in mid-May I’ll be heading to the Midwest, including stops in Minneapolis, Chicago, Madison, Milwaukee and Columbus, Ohio.
Should I keep going? Want me to come to your bookstore, bowling alley, or bughouse? Let’s talk!
Book publishing explained
Because I come from the world of do-it-yourselfers, people are always asking me, “What’s the best way to support your book so the money goes in your pocket?”
Good question. The answer is always this: preorder the book.
No one really knows how publishing works. Publishing tries, but they can’t really create a bestseller or even a book that breaks even. Most books don’t and it’s not even close. Most books lose money and publishers make up the difference with blockbusters. Publishers make bets, take shots in the dark, but no one knows why some books catch on and others don’t. Whether you’re a writer or a bookseller, you have to embrace the mystery.
A preorder, however, eliminates some of the guesswork. A preorder is a datapoint that tells the publisher people are interested in the book. It tells booksellers this is a title to watch. It tells libraries to order the book. It tells Amazon to adjust its algorithm. It tells the industry to pay attention.
A preorder is not just a vote for a book but a vote for the author because the information that preorders generate helps the author’s career in a direct and unambiguous way. So if you can, please preorder. Not when the book comes out, not next week, but right now. Here are some links to make doing that as simple as possible:
Preorder from the publisher and get a signed copy.
Preorder from bookshop.org and help indie bookstores.
Preorder from Amazon and help Jeff Bezos pay his alimony.
Preorder from Barnes & Noble because in some towns it’s the only show going.
Preorder from Target because you probably have a gift card laying around somewhere.
You can also request Make It Stop from your local library. And, of course, there’s no substitute for your local independent bookstore who will happily preorder the book for you. And if you’re already preordered Make It Stop thank you. You get it.
Next week I’ll get back to a few book, movie, and music recommendations as well as some books I’m looking forward to that are coming out later this year. Thanks for reading and drive safe.
At least for this San Diegan. Portland got hit with 8-11 inches, depending on the area. For those who live in the northeast, midwest, California mountains, or Canada, don’t at me.
I live in the Midwest now, but grew up in Portland. 8-11' there is a LOT, and I felt every word of your adventure (and know exactly where that freeway picture is).
Funny thing about PDX; there's literally a mountain about an hour away that people drive to/from all year long with relatively few issues. But an inch or 2 of snow in the metro area, and it's lights out.
wow, you are lucky you made it through the storm! we were stuck inside for two days in PDX.