Adventures in Marketing: Week 38

No café sales.

A lawyer I knew when I was in practice asked how my writing was going. But…

A woman said, “I have a library with 3000 books, and if I bring one more home, my children will kill me.”

A thirtyish fellow, longish black hair, thickish black-framed glasses, lots of black clothes, asked if the books on display were mine.

I assured him they were.

He examined each, front cover and back. He riffled through some, lingering the most at the cartoons in “most Outrageous.” Which was understandable.

He assured me I was a credit to Berkeley.

B.
Sold a “Schiz” to the sole law school classmate with whom I have even semi-regular contact. He e-mailed he’d enjoyed “Cheesesteak,” which I’d comp’d him. He’d known some of the characters and locales (pp. 78-87) and asked about them, which was cool. He also wanted a “Best Ride” and a “Pirates/Mouse” to give an Overbrook High School classmate of his, now “living as a mountain man in West Virginia.”

That sounds like a story-and-a-half.

[All books available from www.theboblevin.com]

Adventures in Marketing: Week 37

Sold copies of “The Schiz” to two alte cockers at the health club, both veteran readers of my stuff. (One hasn’t paid yet, but, a retired lawyer/professor, he’s good for it.) Since I’m not discounting this item, even for pals, each got a complimentary “Huge.” Swapped a “Cheesesteak” to a Penn man for an UG-friendly zine he edit/publishes.

Speaking of Penn, my café friend Hap, another alum, I send a “C.steak” to the “Gazette,” its all-university mag for its Class Notes (“Bob Levin L.’67…). Figuring it would draw more eyes than the law school’s equivalent, I did, but since I usually toss the Gazette when it arrives, I didn’t know the notice’d run till Hap gave me his copy.

If any sales result, I shall let you know.

[Bob Levin’s books are available from this very web site.]

Readers Respond

“I finished ‘The Schiz.’ I hope the characters weren’t based on real people.”
A fellow at the café.
“Terrific. I think it would make a great graphic novel.”
My good friend Budd.

I tend to evaluate how people respond to my writings. I know this is not fair. I understand it’s hard to come up with responses that satisfy creators. I fuss and fret over responses myself. (Still I noted the café fellow said absolutely nothing which revealed what he thought of my book, and graded him downward accordingly.)

Budd’s response recalled to me that decades earlier, to perhaps the first draft of “The Schiz,” Max Garden, (See “Cheesesteak” p. 14 et seq.) said it reminded him of a comic book. He meant this as a compliment, but I felt my seriousness of purpose and complexity of thought dissed. So while I reacted more dispassionately to Budd’s assessment which, after all had praised the book directly, I noted his implication that it would be better as something else.

Then, later that day, Adele’s brother Gordie called. “The macabre and grotesque scenes and characters,” he said, “reminded me of those EC comics you showed Ken and Joey (His children) the first time we visited. It was like you’d created comic art in words.” Though Gordie, like Max and Budd, had connected “The Schiz” to comics, his comment alone unqualifiedly warmed me.

First was his utilization of the words “grotesque” and “macabre.” Though at first glance denoting less stars than “great” or “terrific,” he had individualized his response, narrowed it and sharpened it in a way to fit my book specifically and, at the same time, linked it to a recognized literary tradition. Flannery O’Connor, Mary Shelley, Poe. (In fact, Wikipedia says, no less than Thomas Mann called the grotesque the “genuine antibourgeoise style.”

Plus, Gordie was saying “The Schiz” satisfied as itself. It was not the equivalent of a comic. It need not become one. It had only incorporated elements of comics, as artists incorporate elements of whatever they come across and are nourished by. And I and loved the idea of having EC as one of my literary influences. At various times, I had heard — and welcomed — “Ernest Hemingway” and “Raymond Chandler” and “Nathanel West”; but EC, which had fallen upon me years before any of these eminent others, had never been cited to or accepted by me, and it suddenly seemed right and simply nice to welcome it aboard and not standing on the pier as I sailed away.

Adventures in Marketing: Week 29

Sold two copies of “The Schiz,” one to a friend who’d missed the launch party and one to an attorney from my law practice past who lives down the peninsula. Sold a “Cheesesteak” to a fellow who sought my counsel on his nanny’s brother’s workers’ comp case.

The (presumably) mass e-mailing from my on-line publicist to reviewers hither and yon has resulted in a single request for “Cheesesteak.” (Actually a request for TWO copies.) This is not encouraging. On the other hand, it means I will be giving away fewer freebies. Is this it? I asked the publicist. Or should I expect more requests to trickle in? This question has not been answered.

However, my publicist has also recommended I give 10 copies away at Goodreads in a “lottery.” This, she says, will draw attention to my work and increase my name recognition. I was willing, but it required several tips from her before I could convince Goodreads “Cheesesteak” even existed.

In semi-related news, I have submitted my Introduction (or Afterword) to “Cumming,” Aaron Lange’s forthcoming collection of scurrilous anti-Trump illustrations. They are a hoot and getting my own rocks off was such a blast that I look forward to displaying the comic besides my own books in the café.

I have even offered to take on local distribution, as a sideline to my publishing empire. I mean if this won’t sell in Berkeley…

Adventures in Marketing: Week 28

I.
Sold three copies of “The Schiz” and one of “Cheesesteak.” The first went to two guys and a gal I knew at the French. The last went to someone I didn’t.

II.Tom?” she said.

She had me confused with an (even) more celebrated author who came there. He always wears a watch cap and I wore one that morning. She had wanted to compare knee replacements with him. (Hers had gone well; his hadn’t.) There, I couldn’t help her, but I could have done heart surgery.

Then she saw my cap said “West Philadelphia.” She had lived there in the ’60s, three blocks from my family, while her now ex- was in med school.

“Wanna buy a book?” I said.

II.
The big opportunity I missed was the 50th anniversary party we attended. Philadelphians past and present were there, but I had left my “Buy Bob’s Books” and my wares at home.

I was proud of the discretion I had shown but…

III.
I showed more initiative by placing both books in a store on consignment. One copy of each. 60/me;40/them split. They will display them 60 days and if any sell, take more.

So if you are in Pegasus on Solano Ave….

IV.
After much mulling I took the plunge on this outfit that promises to get your book reviewed. Think of us, they say, as your personal (cheap) publicist. They will pitch a personally-tailored-to-your-book promo to thousands.

I do not doubt they will find reviewers. One of these places even found me. (“Due to your interest in Cold War espionage…”) But do reviews by people you have never heard of sell books by authors you have never heard of?

I am not so sure.

Adventures in Publishing (Week 25)

The missing four cartons (see last week’s report) arrived.

Sold seven copies of “The Schiz.” One went, via www.theboblevin.com, to a stranger. Two went to couples at Berkeley Espresso. Two went to friends from high school (and two more announced an intent to buy one). Two went to fellows at the health club, one a lifelong friend and one a newer acquaintance. (I also sold, breaking my cherry at Amazon, a “Cheesesteak” to a woman I had gone to Hebrew and law school, but with whom I’d had no contact in a decade; and I swapped one to a poet I’d originally met playing pick-up basketball for a recent collection of his work.)

I also had my first reader response to “The Schiz.” (Believe me, given its history, I’d been anxiously waiting — and wasn’t sure I’d hear any.) It came from a woman at the club — and no sure thing at that. (I still carry, like a burr in my fur, her comment, in an otherwise favorable newspaper review 20 years ago of “Fully Armed,” that it was “annoyingly self-referential.”) She told Adele, before leaving the locker room for a swim, she was really enjoying the book. She loved the characters’ names, and — BINGO!!! — it reminded her of Nathanael West.

Marketing Report: Week 23

For those of you who weren’t followers of my blog, explanation may be in order. Some months ago, when I self-published semi-memoir “Cheesesteak,” I began issuing this account of my journey toward media-baronhood. Hence…

Just when I seemed destined for a second consecutive “Zero copies sold…,” my announcement of the looming (next week) availability of my black comedy “The Schiz” resulted in a burst of activity(three “Schiz” sales within six hours, plus an accompanying order of “Fully Armed,” my 1995 bio-fic about Jimmy Don Polk.) (The buyers were a cousin and two comics world pals.)

I’ve also finalized plans for “The Schiz”‘s launch party, securing the services of a preferred barista, photocopying the Milo George-designed flyer for distribution, cost-comparing the price for paper plates, cups, plastic forks, and napkins (Did Lord Beaverbrook really start like this?), and extending invitations. I didn’t ask for RSVPs, but polling data extrapolated from those who replied indicates the turnout will be good.

SENS Bistro. 1538 Shattuck. Berkeley.
Nov. 10. 7 – 9:00 p.m.
Cheesesteak $20; The Schiz $30 from Spruce Hill Press, POB 9492 Berkeley 94709
OR, via Pay Pal at www.theboblevin.com

Marketing Report: Week 22

No books sold.

This despite my netting two five-star reviews for “Cheesesteak” at Amazon. (Confession: Having finally mastered getting listed, I solicited 40 friends, so a five-percent return rate is not that great. Another fellow says he would have reviewed me, but he couldn’t master the technology.)

And this despite my having made a capitol investment, acquiring two handsome wood stands to display examples of my wares vertically, alongside my “Buy Bob’s Books!” sign while I sit in the café. So far they have not drawn a fleeting glance.

The process has not been without reward however. “Csteak” has drawn me into correspondence with a fellow formed at Fels Junior High, who matured in and around the South Street Renaissance. Our topics of memory land-discussions to date have included Howie (“One tough jewboy”) Turnoff, an All-Public guard from Northeast with whom I shared one semester at Brandx, and Ira Einhorn, the Powelton Village hippie guru/trunk murderer, whom, my correspondent suggest, was an informer for COINTELPRO. As I said, interesting.

In other news, my “review” of “Falcon & Snowman” led the publisher to ask if I wanted to review anything else of theirs. (I passed for the moment.) And “The Schiz”‘s impending release has led me to approach management of the Sens Bistro (formerly The French Hotel Café) about holding a launch party there. If the price is stomachable, it should be the evening of Nov. 10. No Host (Coffee) Bar. Free cake.

CHEESESTEAK ($20) is available from POB 9492, Berkeley 94709.
See also: www.theboblevin.com.

Marketing Report: Week 20

Sold one “Cheesesteak” and swapped one.

The sale went to a middle-aged woman walking by the café. It was a warm day, so I had moved outside for the extra foot traffic. I almost lost her to a “No-cash-with-me” but I dazzled her with my IPhone’s ability to accept credit cards (plus a “money-back-if-not-satisfied” guarantee. What I would do with a book signed for “M—e” I hadn’t considered.)

The swap was to a fellow who recognized me from Facebook as a kindred spirit and wanted to connect. A former commix creator, he became a collector of/dealer in kinescopes of old TV shows when the need to make a living over took him. He brought me several of his books. We had a good conversation at the café, despite the jackhammers that had started outside the door 15 minutes before he arrived.

In other news, the hic-cups with the illustrations to “The Schiz” seem to have been resolved at the printer’s, so if shipment doesn’t occur on October 17 as initially estimated, it shouldn’t be more than a week later. In anticipation, I stocked up on bubble mailers from Uline — and have been over-taken with anxiety wondering if I will come close to filling them with orders.

If didn’t help when my latest attempt to market “Cheesesteak” with Amazon failed. I ran into a snag with their form completion I couldn’t untangle, and their customer service rep’s (“Selva” by name) Live Chat produced a lot of garbled syntax, given and withdrawn instructions, and utilazation of terms foreign to me (What the hell’s a “screenshot”?)on his end, and much stifled rage on mine. (I admit I am an ignoramus when it comes to any matters more technical than opening a sealed carton.) Finally he (or she) told me someone from an “internal team” would need to assist me. Having spent 20 minutes with Selva, I spent five more waiting and then disconnected.

CHEESESTEAK is available from Spruce Hill Press, POB 9492, Berkeley, CA 94709, for $20.

Marketing: Week 12

Sold a “Most Outrageous” to a fellow at the health club, who is now one shy of a complete collection of my work and says he will bind them in leather. Sold a “Cheesesteak” to a fellow at the café I’d about given up on, even though I’d given him a “New Yorker,” which I’d thought would’ve cemented our relationship. (He claimed he gets so into his iPad each morning, he’d never noticed my sign.)

In the Notable Reaction Department, there were: the café acquaintance who said he only read books about Buddhism but would offer me “spiritual support.” (Fuck you,” I’d thought. Which suggested I could use some.); the voc. rehab. counselor, and ex-Philly gal, to whom I’d thrown plenty of business when I was in practice, who said she still had my notice of “Chessesteak” on her desk and was planning to buy one. (Hasn’t happened yet); a lovely note from a defense attorney relating how much she’d enjoyed having her own recollections jolted. When she’d been at Barnard, she reported, attending an Odetta concert was tantamount to declaring yourself a Communist. And she had a friend who broke off her affair with Jim Kweskin (the second of those reported) after her mother “swooped down from Greenwich CT, draped in her minks and trailing the scent of Chanel #5” and threatened her.

IN OTHER NEWS
The front and back covers of “The Schiz” are done. Our focus group has responded “WOW!” and “WOW! WOW! WOW! WOW!” A final line editing from Milo (I will keep my hands off it, so I don’t rewrite anything), and it’s off to the printer.

Oh yeah, we’ve raised the price a nickel.

As for “Heart,” having finally overcome the trauma from the rejections and silence when I sought an agent some months ago, I am trying again. First query has gone out; others to follow.