Dreams Come True but so do Nightmares
So many things about the publication of my first novel, Diamonds in Auschwitz, has been a dream come true. Not to brag (because I abhor bragging or even the thought that people might think I’m bragging), but Diamonds in Auschwitz was a number one new release on its pub date, an Amazon bestseller, and the recipient of a few awards and many positive reviews.
As the wise philosopher (Galinda from Wicked) said, though: “Cause getting your dreams; it’s strange but it seems; a little, well, complicated”. Fulfilled dreams come with a counterbalance, if you will. In this case, it’s that the nightmare can also come true.
I experienced my first book event where no one came. Not a single damn person besides me and the woman at the venue who planned it. Not anyone from my own personal fan club (mainly because I either didn’t tell them or told them specifically not to come). Not a random person off the street who didn’t know what he was getting into but saw a line and experienced a strong sense of FOMO. Not a friend or relative of the woman who planned the event (which, to add on to my burden of guilt, was her first author event that she had undertaken). Not any other workers at the venue who thought it was worth their while to wander down to the conference room to see what all the flyers had been about in the last few weeks.
No one.
Let me say emphatically that in no way do I blame the venue or the lovely woman who hosted it. If anything, I feel awful that this was her first experience with an author event, and I hope fervently that she feels the call to try it again in the future.
I certainly came up with some justifications of why the event was a flop (beyond the obvious and easy answer that I am, in some way, a flop):
I didn’t do a great job advertising. I shared it on my social media a few times (so my whopping 300 Instagram followers from all over the country saw it). I asked a few people in that town to share it with their friends, but most of them were busy/out of town that day and couldn’t attend themselves. I also emailed my subscription list (of… wait for it… 35 people*) about that event at least a month before its actual date. In all, not a great job on my part.
I’ve over-saturated that market. This event was not far from my home, and in the 3-ish months since the release of Diamonds in Auschwitz, I’ve had six author events/book signings. Many of those had a great turnout. I can’t expect the same people to come to every event, especially since I mainly say the same thing and my signature (thanks to lots of practice) is exactly the same.
The weather was not my friend. This event took place in a vacation town with a beautiful lake. (My hope was that out-of-town lakers would attend.) But the weather was 90 degrees and counting, completely sunny, and the middle of a gorgeous Saturday, summer afternoon. I don’t blame anyone for preferring the lake to a basement conference room where I talk about researching Nazis and concentration camps for an hour.
Clearly, I’ve learned from my above listed mistakes. So, that’s one bright side in this nightmare from true.
But here’s the best part: I survived.
Beyond everyone hating my book and trade reviews that could be summarized to say “Meg Hamand sucks; this book sucks”, having no one attend an event was my worst nightmare.
Yet, it happened and I survived.
As I was driving home from the unattended event, I called The Husband to tell him what happened. To both of our shock and amazement, I didn’t cry. I didn’t rant. I didn’t even get too upset.
Instead, I said: “Well, the worst happened and I’m still here.” Then I reminded myself (in a quite unusual display of self-kindness) of the really great reviews the book has been receiving.
I realized that no one coming to an event isn’t a reflection on me or my book; it’s the age-old conundrum that people don’t know what they don’t know. I could have written the best Holocaust fiction since Night by Elie Wiesel (I didn’t…), but if people don’t know the book is out there or that the events are happening, I’m not going to see sales and/or attendance.
It’s frustrating but it doesn’t mean that Meg Hamand sucks; this book sucks. And that is a freeing thought.
*Feel free to take those sarcastic comments about my lack of followers and subscribers as a shameless plea to follow and/or subscribe to help boost my numbers and confidence.
