Arts Market Part Deux

You like that? I got all artsy and French in the title. Good, huh? You can just see me sitting in a cafe wearing a beret smoking cloves, right? Ew. Don’t visualize. And fuck the French, cheese-eating surrender monkeys.

Okay, got that outta my system anyway. So last night was the second night of the All Arts Market at the Neighborhood Theatre, and it was significantly better than Day 1. Not only did I get my spot moved from the absolute ass-end of the frigid hallway into a room with other people, there were people buying things, too. I sold one book all night on Wednesday, and by the end of the night last night I’d sold eight books and bartered four more with other artisans. I traded books with Martique, another local writer and artist, and traded a book to my neighbor Desta (website coming live soon) for a great photo of a patina blue hippo, and swapped a book for some hand-painted bookmarks by another chick who was in the same room selling stuff. Of course then I promptly lost most of the business cards from the people who I traded stuff with, because I was woefully unprepared for self-promotion at this event.

You’d think I’d be better than that, after years of promoting my theatre company, Barbizon and myself as a poker writer, but I didn’t even have a tablecloth (that was bartered for another book) much less business cards. I did at least have pens and books, and some cash to make change for folks, so I wasn’t a complete waste of space. But if I’m going to sell books at these arts shows, I’m gonna need to step up my game a little. I enjoyed it, I like talking to people about poetry and about writing, but I’m also thinking that maybe the format of RTF isn’t exactly right for sales. Because it’s a collection of stories and poetry it makes it harder to get people to wrap their heads around the book. When I opened a copy to a couple of poems and encouraged people to read a poem or two, they got a handle on things, but when I just left it laying there closed people were less willing to pick up a copy and leaf through. I guess they didn’t wanna crack the spine and make it unsellable or whatever. So I’ll get a tablecloth and some business cards, and the next book I publish will be either all poetry or all stories (or Choices, it’s not dead I promise).

I also met a woman from the local storyteller’s guild, which meets every month at a Barnes & Noble, so I’ll check them out. I owe her that much – she bought a book. Still time to get your orders in for Christmas – click the button on the sidebar to order! (I’m re-learning the art of shameless self-promotion)

Grind

So this whole self-publishing thing is a bit of a grind. To date I’ve made back about 1/3 of what I spent in publishing the book, which isn’t terrible for a first-time endeavor, and it’s not like it cost me very much cash to begin with. Last night I went to the All Arts Market in the arts district here in town, set up a table and sat there for four hours. To sell one book. That was a little brutal. But I knew when I printed 100 copies that most of them were going to go to friends and family for Christmas (so if you’re related to me and reading this, at least have the grace to feign surprise). It’s not like anybody makes any real money writng and publishing poetry, but it should at least be able to be a break-even proposition. I plan to approach local colleges about doing appearances and readings there, so that’s another avenue to sell a few copies.

It’s not really about the money, it’s more about changing the way people view poetry. One of the greatest compliments I got this past weekend was from DrChako, who told me that he’d never really cared for poetry, but that my stuff made a connection with him. That’s what it’s about for me, making connections and telling good stories. Maybe I do it with fewer words and a different format than most writers, but it’s the same thing – storytelling. So I want to push the boundaries of what poetry is supposed to be, because I don’t think very many people have it right. I dunno, maybe I’m way off base and everybody is writing accessible, clear-minded stuff nowadays, but I don’t think so. I think there’s a lot of purposefully obscure drivel out there that drives people away from the form, and somebody needs to show people that there can be other accessible poetry that isn’t slam poetry. It’s not to take away from the slam poets, but it’s not what I do, and it’s not the only game out there.

So that’s all I want to do – change an entire societal view on poetry and poets. We’re not ALL effete beret-wearing omnisexuals who smoke cloves and drink lattes. At least not every day:).

And I’m trying to make a concerted effort to write a little here every day. That will likely blow up in a matter of days, but for now, we’ll keep it rolling.

Welcome right f’n back

Well, on the bright side, it wasn’t THAT phone call that woke me up this morning. Those of you with aging parents knows the one I mean. Those of you with kids in their teens know it, too. When my dad showed up on the caller ID, I knew something had happened to my mom. Dad knows better than to call me at 7AM, after all. I was right. Mom had fallen and they were loading her onto an ambulance. She didn’t seem to have broken anything this time, just a nasty gash on her head, but it was a spectacular way to start my day, a day that had promised to be truly lovely (insert sarcastic tone here) from the end of yesterday.
I like my job, really I do. It pays me well, it’s pretty enjoyable, and I like the folks I work for and with. But some days just outright suck, and yesterday was one of them. A client with more stroke than sense wants to get a studio built in three weeks, and because they’re connected to enough important people, I can’t just laugh at them like I usually would. I have to employ tact and restraint, words not typically associated with yours truly. And I want to get the order. I’d like to close out the year with another one in the “W” column, even though it’s a job that I’d usually throw under the bus because of the stupid timeline. So I’ve got that to look forward to for the rest of the week.

One interesting note – I’ll be at the Arts Market at the Neighborhood Theatre for the next two nights peddling my book. They only wanted $15 for a table for two nights, so I decided to take a shot. Hopefully I can sell more than two books and show a profit! I’m trying to figure out this whole self-publishing/self-promotional author thing, but I’m starting to pick up a few things. For example, I’ve stopped posting new poetry here because a lot of magazines and contests won’t accept submissions that have been previously published anywhere, including blogs. And since magazines and contests are kinda key to getting someone ELSE to pay for publishing my next book, that’s pretty important. I’ll still put stuff up here from time to time, and you can always come out to one of my readings to check out what I’ve been working on. But in the meantime I’ve gotta go get a demo console set up for a customer, so I’ll check back in later.

#wpbt

That’s all you have to search on Twitter to find a whole lot of fun and good times this weekend. I was there, like I’ve been every December since 2005 (jeez, really? It’s been that long?).

There are some trip reports coming, but I wanted to touch on a few of the coolest moments quickly.

Thursday nights are always great – raging at the Geisha Bar with everybody is a blast, having Dave Schwartz (Roll the Bones) come hang out with me & Special K was extra-cool.

Chopping a tourney for first is always great – chopping it 20 ways is a great story, too. Then finishing the night with Steel Panther is the best idea EVER.

Finding myself drunk at the Geisha Bar and having good conversation with Iggy, Carter and CaityCaity until almost dawn was one of those moderately quiet, but ultimately cool moments.

Hanging out downtown with Suzy and the look on her face at the Fremont Street light show was worth the plane fare all by itself.

There will be more to come, I promise. Hanging out with dozens of my best friends reminded why I started writing a blog in the first place, and now it’s time to get back to actually writing a blog.

BTW – Friday is about the last day I can guarantee shipping by Christmas, so if you’re gonna order a book, do it now! Click the button, I dare you! Any book that’s Chilly-approved oughta be good enough for you, too.

Rough Vegas Plans

All my plans are subject to change at any time due to drunkenness, the wife’s disposition or me getting distracted by shiny objects. But I think this is roughly where you’ll be able to find me at most points over the weekend.

Thursday – I land 11-something AM. I’ll head over to the MGM, check in, grab lunch and be around the poker room there or at the Excalibur until Suzy gets in that afternoon. Then I plan to test the elasticity of the MGM mattresses with my wife for a couple of hours (in married-speak this most likely means a nap) and then head over to the IP. I’ll be at the Geisha Bar around 8PM. At that point I’ll drink like a college kid and generally make an ass out of myself.

Friday – After sleeping in, I’m gonna do the Neon Museum tour at 2PM. Then some mixed games at the MGM until it’s time to head over to Green Valley Ranch for the Steel Panther concert.

Saturday – After all three members of Team Gambling Tales final table the blogger event, locking up our massive last longer bet thanks to the Luckbox and PokerStars, we’ll do a nice sushi dinner somewhere. Then I think it might be time to bust Waffle’s Vegas Strip club cherry. Suzy and Jim the Knife are also LV strip club virgins, so who’s with me?

Sunday – gamble, rinse, repeat. There will be mimosas and Pai Gow early in the day, probably poker later.

Monday – get up, fly home

Tuesday – begin planning the next trip.

If you’re really interested in where I am at any given time, I’ll try to keep it updated via Twitter. See you soon!