Yesterday, I talked about my natural aversion to confrontation and how it's a facet of my personality I'd like, at the very least, to modify. 10 days ago, I took a first step in that direction, and it started by asking myself what Alan Shore would do in my situation.
I also mentioned my book contract yesterday, and it's there that my tale begins.
When I originally contracted to write Echoes on the Hardwood, the publisher, Diamond Communications, was a small outfit that had published a number of ND- and sports-related books. As it happens, the owner had season tickets for ND men's basketball, and when I contacted her about the project, she was over the moon about it. Even though I didn't have an official contract, she had sufficiently expressed interest such that I started doing interviews, hired a tape transcriber, etc.
Early in the process, I eschewed hiring an agent. I was working well with Diamond directly, I had direct access to an audience for the book via NDNation, and was sure I could count on help from the ND alumni association. Diamond, unlike most of the other houses, didn't require an agent's involvement. I figured I didn't need to shell out 15 percent of the revenue when I'd already done most of the heavy lifting.
Foolish decision, as it turns out.
When I had a first draft of the manuscript ready, it was time to get under contract. But in the meantime, Diamond had been purchased by Rowman and Littlefield, a much larger group with whom I didn't have nearly the same rapport as I'd had with Diamond. To her credit, Diamond's former owner (now a R&L employee) championed my book and was authorized to sign a contract.
But as it turns out, that's where it ended with R&L. I was offered a meager advance, which I decided to trade for the ability to acquire books for resale at a lower price. R&L, as I found out shortly after the book hit shelves, had budgeted approximately squadouche for marketing purposes, meaning if I wanted to do any book signings or other events, I had to plan and pay for them myself. Some of the ND alumni clubs proved much more interested in fundraising for their scholarships than helping an alum sell a book about the school. As the final straw, Diamond's former owner left R&L three weeks before my publishing date, meaning I no longer had anyone there I knew was enthused about my project.
Sales were OK, all things considered. I believe there are over 2,000 copies in circulation right now. But if I'd been better at negotiating (or more willing to mix it up), or at least had been willing to hire someone who was to act on my behalf, I believe I would have seen much better efforts from R&L because they would have been contractually obligated to provide said effort. The whole situation reeked of poor decision-making on my part, which had left a bad taste in my mouth for quite a while.
My kiddos spend a week with my in-laws in Ohio every summer, and ND is usually our hand-off point since it's a place we all like to be. Dropping them off for their 2010 trip is what led me to be in the Notre Dame bookstore on the morning of July 31st, which is where my epiphany occurred.
For those of you who have seen the Hammes, in its vestibule on the first floor is a large circular table, on which are piled the Notre Dame-related books of the day, so to speak. This time of year, a lot of them have to do with the sports teams, because with the Purdue game right around the corner, the folks at the Bookstore are prepping for the crowds and their wallets and know what side of the bread the butter's on.
As I usually do, I walked around the table to see if there was anything new to be found. There were a couple -- Monk's book had about six stacks. But most were the old stand-bys like Era of Ara, Shake Down the Thunder, Talking Irish, and other tomes that sit on my bookshelf today and have for years.
What I didn't see was EotH. Muffet's book was there. All three of Digger's books were there, two of which are just as old (if not older) than mine. But not mine.
I spent the next five to 10 minutes walking around the table, with two or three wanders part way over to the Book Information desk, debating on my next course of action. The don't-make-waves hemisphere was going full blast, as I wavered as to what to do. As the minutes ticked by, I started getting more and more frustrated with myself. I knew if I didn't do anything, I'd be in a foul humor the rest of the day, which wouldn't make for a fun drive home for either Trish or me. But I couldn't get past the inner excuse-making.
Then all at once, everything cleared. I remembered the BL episodes I'd been watching on DVD some weeks prior, and asked myself, "What would Alan Shore do if he were in this situation? Would he be wandering aimlessly around the lobby of this place? No, he'd make sure if he left the building dissatisfied, it wouldn't be due to a lack of effort on his part. So dammit, do the same thing."
I walked up to the Book Information desk, introduced myself politely, and inquired as to why EotH wasn't included on the outside table. 15 minutes of genial conversation later, not only was a stack sitting on that table but I was told the Bookstore will make sure they have plenty on hand for the upcoming season. I drove home later that day a happy person.
So far, wondering what Alan Shore would do has stood me in good stead, and I'm going to continue to do so. But that still didn't get me as far as starting this blog. I needed inspiration from another person ... a real human being this time ... who took a risk to tell his story and move past bad decisions. More about him next time.
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