Why Book Signings Aren’t What They Used To Be
By Steven Womack
Buckle up, Buttercup: it’s story time!
Today, I’m putting on my Professor Peabody hat and inviting you to join me in The Wayback Machine, where we’ll journey back thirty years or so, to a time when being a working novelist was a whole different gig that it is now.
I started my first novel when I was eighteen, which was entirely too young for anyone to think they had anything to say about anything. Still, the combination of youth and arrogance knows no bounds, so I pressed on, determined to be the great writer I knew I was somewhere inside. Now if I could only convince the rest of the world…
Then life took over. And in one of the great ironies of my life (and the older I get, the more convinced I am that irony is one of life’s more primordial forces), after starting my first novel at the age of eighteen, it would take me precisely eighteen more years to sell one.
Even after the sale, it took a couple of years to get the book out. Then, as now, the wheels of traditional publishing grind very slowly.
So in 1990, I became a published novelist. Not only that, my first novel was a hardback published by one of the great publishing houses of New York, St. Martin’s Press. And like all newly published novelists, my first concern was when can I start doing book signings!
I loved going to book signings, loved meeting authors who’d written real books. Bookstores were my happy place and now my dream of getting to go to my happy place from the other side of the signing table was coming true. My hometown, Nashville, was a wonderful book town then. There were lots of independent bookstores around, as well as the big chains like Borders and Barnes & Noble.
One of the local independent chains was Mills Bookstores (chain? well, there were three of them), so I reached out to them, and they very kindly offered me a signing at their flagship store in Hillsboro Village. I met a fellow there—Michael Sims—who had moved to Nashville a few years earlier and would later go on to a spectacular writing career himself. He and I have been friends ever since.
Even then, publishers didn’t put a whole lot of marketing or promotion into most debut novels. So I took it upon myself to publicize and promote my first book signing. I worked up a database of a couple hundred of my closest friends and family, then merged the database with a Word document and sent out personalized letters inviting them to my very first book signing, which took place on a warm Sunday afternoon.
And it was astonishingly successful. In an incredible leap of faith, Mills had ordered around 130 copies of a book no one had ever heard of, by a writer no one had ever heard of. The store was packed, the event went on for—if memory serves me—at least three hours. I spoke for a bit, read an excerpt from the book, then signed literally every copy in the store. By the end of the afternoon, Michael was pulling display copies out of the front window to sell.
At the end of the day, I thought I got this…
Now, over thirty years later, I still haven’t had a book signing that successful. Most of my book signings have been like one I did with Sharyn McCrumb at a Little Professor Bookstore in Birmingham, where someone walked up to our signing table (and right up to it, since there was no line) and asked if I knew what the lunch special was today.
Book signings were events back then. They still are for some writers, if you’re a star. Stephen King can draw a crowd wherever he goes. If you’re a genre writer and have developed a huge following in your field, then you’re good to go. Celebrity book signings still work, and locally famous true crime books or other spectacle-type gigs still work.
But if you’re just a working stiff writer, on a self-financed book tour in a town where nobody knows you (yep, I’ve done plenty of those), book signings aren’t worth what they used to be. There aren’t as many bookstores today, so your options are more limited. The two great independent chains that were in Nashville back in the day—Mills Bookstores and Davis-Kidd Booksellers—are long gone. As a result, writers sometimes have to compete for limited signing slots at the few bookstores left. One bookstore I know has an application on their website you fill out if you want to sign at their store, and I know a number of writers they’ve turned down. And some independent bookstores, when they schedule a signing for a well-known author, actually charge admission to people who want to go hear their favorite writer drone on.
If you’re an indie-pubbed writer, then it’s even more disheartening. Bookstores, like everyone else, still have some old-school, ingrained prejudices against “self-published” writers (see last months column).
Even David Gaughran, an Irish writer who’s been a pioneer and an expert in the indie pubbing movement, wrote in his latest blog that getting out there to press the flesh—book readings and book fairs—are “F Tier” marketing strategies for authors today.
“F Tier” means a waste of money and time.
The days when books were primarily hand-sold, person-to-person in brick-and-mortar bookstores are long gone. You might sell a few books here and there, but it’s not going to move the needle on your actual numbers or your Amazon Sales Rank—and sad to say, that’s what counts these days.
So if you want to do a book signing, then do it for the right reasons: you want to hang with friends, family, fans and fellow book lovers for a pleasant afternoon or evening. Have a good time, boost your ego, have a glass of wine.
Then get up the next morning and go back to work. That paper’s not gonna sling itself.
