My approach to the book tour

The Wall Street Journal’s Joanne Kaufman wrote a piece on the way in which bookstores are beginning to rethink the traditional book tour that got a lot of attention in the publishing community. 

I have always followed a slightly non-traditional approach to my author appearances, similar to the rethinking that Kaufman describes, and I believe that it has served me well. 

Before I began my first book tour, I attended the reading of a bestselling author.  The appearance lasted a little more than an hour, and nearly the entire time was consumed with the author reading from the new book. 

I literally watched audience members, mostly men, nod off in the process.

A friend had accompanied me to the event, and he leaned over as the author droned on and asked, “Is this what you’re going to have to do?”

I vowed to avoid reading from my books whenever possible from that day on. 

Since publishing SOMETHING MISSING in the summer of 2009, I have spoken about my books more than one hundred times at bookstores, libraries, colleges, literary festivals, weekend retreats and book clubs.  While I occasionally read from my books, I only do so when an audience member or the person hosting the event insists. 

When I read, I always make it exceedingly short.

For me, an author appearance is an opportunity to introduce myself, rather than my books, to an audience.  While I hope to provide lots of background information about my books via storytelling and interest audience members enough to purchase a book, I know that there is more long-term value in making fans than in making immediate sales.

On more than one occasion, I have chosen to forgo speaking about my books entirely.  Not one mention of title or plot or characters. 

I’ve always felt that if an audience likes me and finds me interesting, they will read my books.  

When I speak to an audience, my goal is to be a storyteller.  I want to entertain.  Make them laugh.  Provide new and unusual insight.  Make a connection. 

I don’t want audience members to walk away feeling like they just received the hard sell.  I want them to feel like they know me better as a person, and with some luck, they want to know even more. 

My appearances typically consist of three parts.

Part 1 is pure storytelling, and it fills more than half of the time that I am speaking.  I gather as many amusing, unusual or interesting stories surrounding the book as possible and share them with the audience.  These could be stories about the actual process of writing the book, personal stories that connect to characters and/or plot lines or stories from my life that provided inspiration for the book. 

For my most recent book, UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO, this included stories about my fourth grade classmates, the day my daughter was born, a visit to Boca Raton, my wedding day, my grandfather and his experiences in World War II and more.  Each story has a specific connection to the book (some stronger and more direct than others), but more importantly, each story illuminates an aspect of my life while making audience members laugh and think and connect.

Part 2 consists of a series of book recommendations.  I bring a stack of books to every author appearance and share these recommendations with the audience, reading tiny snippets from the books whenever possible.  I try to include a mix of genre and formats, and I also always try to have a story or anecdote to tell about each book that I am going to recommend.  This serves three purposes. 

It gives the audience a chance to get to know me as a reader. 

It gives me a chance to promote the authors who I love.

Most important, it gives me another opportunity to tell stories about myself and the books that I adore.

Part 3 is a question and answer session, and I always begin this portion by encouraging the audience to ask anything that they would like.  The stranger the question, the better.  Sometimes I bring a prize for the audience member who asks the most unusual question of the evening, just to encourage more out-of-the-box thinking.  I encourage people to try to stump me, embarrass me, shock me, or put me on the spot with their questions, because I know that this will often be entertaining to the rest of the audience.

The strangest question I ever received (and it was asked in all sincerity) was:

What role do your ex-girlfriends and former lovers play in your writing life?

While the real answer is none, I used the opportunity to weave in three amusing stories about ex-girlfriends, one which had the audience roaring with laughter.

Every opportunity to tell a story should be seized by the throat.   

I have also learned that you cannot rely on audience questions for the bulk of your talk, because there are times when you simply will not be asked very many questions.  If I was guaranteed an unending stream of questions, I would almost prefer to transform my whole talk a question-and-answer session, since this would probably result in the most dynamic and surprising of exchanges.  But audiences are a fickle bunch.  Some have questions but are too nervous to ask them in front of others.  Others simply wish to be passive participants in the event.  Sometimes people just can’t think of anything to ask.  And sometimes people want to go home because their favorite television show is coming on at 9:00.

I’ve had to stop answering questions after 45 minutes, and I’ve also received only one or two token questions from the event host.

Once I am done speaking, I remain behind to sign books, but I also invite audience members to ask me any additional questions that they did not want to ask publicly while I sign their book.  This leads to quite a bit of discussion, and many times I end up leading a second question-and-answer session with the hardcore book lovers who have not already left. 

This is oftentimes my favorite part of a book talk.  These are the people I typically want to get to know best.  These are the people who read fifty books a year and will go to work tomorrow talking about me and my stories.

These are the people who will become legitimate fans of my work.

Tomorrow I’ll offer some tips that will help even the shiest and most inexperienced author deliver a winning book talk at his or her next event.

What I never told you about marriage

The Forbes piece is “What Your Mother Never Told You About Life After Marriage.” The thesis of the piece (if you haven’t already guessed) is this:

Marriage is not easy, and you were naïve and foolish to think otherwise.

The author cites potato chips in the bed, battles over the remote control, and snoring as irritants that will eventually make any spouse, but especially a wife, crazy.

I find this position to be trite, whiny, shortsighted, cliché and typically advanced by individuals who have made bad spousal choices and are lacking any reasonable degree of perspective.

I would like to offer an alternate thesis:

Marriage can be almost perfect if you marry the right person, avoid selfishness, and have a sensible perspective on life.

A friend recently asked me how Elysha and I manage to have such a good  marriage. He pointed out that we almost never argue and continue to live as individuals within the context of a couple.

“How do you guys do it?” he asked.

First, I assured him that we are far from perfect. I still haven’t learned to wash the dishes to my wife’s satisfaction and recently left my daughter’s hair full of shampoo. Last week Clara spent an entire day with her shoes on the wrong feet, courtesy of her father.

I can’t be easy to live with.

Elysha is not without her flaws as well. She is incapable of syncing her iPhone until it becomes nearly inoperable and places items on counters and can no longer see them in the same way the T-Rex in Jurassic Park loses track of it prey if the prey isn’t moving.

We all have room to grow.

Still, our marriage is pretty fantastic. It’s true that we almost never fight and genuinely love spending time together.

We’re frightfully and disgustingly blissful on most days.

So my answer to my friend’s question about how Elysha and I manage this constant state of bliss was this:

I spend 75% of the time ensure that Elysha is happy and 25% of the time ensuring my own happiness.

Elysha spends 75% of the time ensuring that I am happy and 25% of the time ensuring her own happiness.

As a result, we are both happy, and we are both supremely happy with one another.

Simple.  Right?

Will this plan work for everyone?

I’m not sure. There are certainly some problems that our 75/25 split cannot overcome.

I know a couple who negotiates free time from the kids as if they are negotiating nuclear nonproliferation.

I have a friend who married a shallow, soulless woman who is incapable of experiencing happiness on any level.

I know a man whose in-laws despise his wife.

I know a woman who cannot share information with her husband because he lacks discretion and tact (no, this is not me).

These are problems that our 75/25 plan might not overcome.

But I also know many couples who are extremely happy in their marriages and do not complain about potato chips in the bed or snoring.

In fact, I know more happy couples than unhappy couples, regardless of what the Forbes piece would have you believe.

Perhaps the people around you play an important role, too.

A new writer has taken the stage. Go forth and see what she has to say!

Recently, I have begun using my author appearances as an opportunity to encourage people to write. I still talk about my books, tell amusing stories from my life, answer questions from the audience, and try to avoid actually reading from my books (the one aspect of author appearances that I do not enjoy).

But somewhere in there, I take a moment to urge the audience members to write.

Sometimes I cajole. Sometimes I plead. Sometimes I admonish. A couple of times I’ve been downright mean about it. I never really know what I am going to say at one of these appearances until my mouth gets moving, but I always try to send the message that everyone, regardless of age, experience or ability, should be writing something.

And I always conclude by asking that if someone begins writing, he or she let me know about it. While I would love for the people who attend these events to read and love my books (and purchase them in bushels), I would almost prefer that they just go home and start writing.

Apparently they have. Or at least one person has.

During last spring’s Books on the Nightstand retreat in Vermont, I decided, on whim, to avoid talking about my books altogether in favor of taking a moment to urge the sizable audience to write. It may have been the first time I actually made this appeal to an audience, and I was happy that I did.

My talk can be found here on the Books on the Nightstand website as a part of their weekly podcast.

Earlier this week, a reader named Heather contacted me about an NPR story that had reminded her of Martin, the protagonist in Something Missing (I’ll share this interesting insight in a future post). After exchanging emails, I learned that she had attended the Books on the Nightstand retreat last spring and had taken my appeal to begin writing to heart.

Beginning on May 27th of this year, she began writing a blog called the One Thousand Words Project, where she attempts to write 1,000 words a day on a topic of her choice.

Her first post explains the genesis of the idea and the rules that she has assigned herself, and I must say that she has not made the process an easy one.

It’s quite impressive.

I spent some time reading her blog this morning and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Her writing is clear, insightful, compelling, and most important, she’s writing! Everyday!

She is writing fiction as well, and from the process that she has described to me through her emails, it sounds as if she is well on her way to beginning her first novel.

I could not be more thrilled.

It sounds silly to say that something like this is comparable to publishing my own novels, but it almost is. While decidedly less profitable than selling my own writing, I can’t tell you how rewarding it is to discover someone writing because of something I said.

And to be writing so well.

Perhaps it’s the teacher in me, always looking to encourage people and utilize their talents.

More likely it’s my terrified-of-death/need-to-leave-my-mark-on-the-world desire being satisfied in a small but extremely meaningful way.

Or maybe it’s my narcissistic tendencies bubbling to my admittedly shallow surface, hoping that Heather will hit the bestseller list someday and attribute a small margin of her success to me.

Maybe even decide to become my patron and fund my future as a writer.

Whatever the reason, I encourage you to visit Heather’s One Thousand Words Project and see what she has to say.

Even if I never profit from her efforts, I couldn’t be more happy and excited for her and the work that she is doing.

An evening of challenging questions and fabulous gifts in Lebanon, CT

On Monday night I had the pleasure of speaking as a part of the third annual Connecticut Author’s Trail at the Jonathan Trumbull Library in Lebanon, CT. An audience of about 50 intrepid Author Trail followers were kind enough to fill the room to listen to me chat about writing and books and life in general. It was an engaging group of people, filled with lots of interesting questions, and they sent me home with a tub of cookies that I managed to avoid eating by passing out at drive-thru restaurants and Dunkin Donuts over the last two days.

I made a bunch of fast food employees happy while avoiding most of the unwanted calories.

A few notes from the night included:
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The audience was kind enough to allow me to defer from reading from any of my books, which I always appreciate. I really hate that part of almost any reading.
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My friends, Tony and Erin, were kind enough to show up for the talk.  It is thanks to Tony that I have Patriots season tickets, and he actually delivered them to me that night, making it the best gift I have ever received for a  speaking engagement. I told the audience that Tony ranks fourth in my life in terms of most important people. The order is my wife, my daughter, my agent and then him. And while that may be slightly tongue-in-cheek, it isn’t far from the truth.

And yes, technically I paid for the tickets, so they weren’t exactly a gift. But I paid for them way back in March, so they felt free to me when Tony handed them over. Probably why the Patriots make me pay so early. ________________________

I entered the library wearing a baseball hat and shorts and carrying a backpack, and as a result, no fewer than four people commented on how young I looked. “You’re a little young to be an author,” one woman said skeptically, and two others suggested I get a new publicity photo taken, and fast. It just goes to show:

Dress like a little boy and you’ll probably scrape away a dozen years or so, at least until you remove your hat. ________________________

I was asked one of the toughest questions of my authorial career when a librarian who I had met at a previous retreat explained that she is often asked, “Who is this Matthew Dicks?”

Faced with having to explain that I am an author, a teacher, and a DJ (among other things), she said that she's had a difficult time describing me. So she passed the question onto me. “Who is Matthew Dicks?” she asked, leaving me to fumble with the question before offering little by way of answer.

But at every author appearance, I always recommend half a dozen other books, and on Monday I recommended SIX WORD MEMOIRS, and so she suggested I provide my own six word memoir in hopes that it might help.

I’ve written almost four dozen six-word memoirs and simply cannot choose with one is the most fitting, but I’ve promised to post my top 10 or so by the end of the week. So I’m whittling the list down to something manageable. ________________________

A piece about the evening was written up in the Lebanon Reminder by staff writer Melanie Savage, and I liked it quite a bit. She captured the highlights of the event well. The piece also included this photo as well, which I liked because it captures the season tickets sitting on the table beside me.

I love the Patriots.

My talk included wishing for the death of an elderly woman and the apparent arrival of her ghost

A couple of weeks ago I participated in the Books on the Nightstand Retreat, which I’ve written about previously. Nine authors came together with about one hundred readers to talk about books.

On Saturday morning I conducted a one-hour session on the decisions that authors must make in the process of publishing a book (ironic since I had been forced to decide upon two offers for my next book as we drove to Vermont), and then later in the evening all nine authors came together to speak to an audience of well over one hundred people on a topic of our choice.

The organizers of the event, the illustrious Ann Kingman and Michael Kindness, recorded these 10-15 minute talks and have been releasing them as part of their Books on the Nightstand weekly podcast.

This week’s podcast includes my talk.

I have yet to listen to the recording.

My original plan that evening was to speak to the group about my books, read a short passage from Unexpectedly, Milo, and tell an amusing story from earlier in the day. But I changed my mind as I rose from my chair and approached the podium and instead spoke about the writing and the need for more people to write in today’s world.

Since it was fairly unprepared, I am afraid to listen to the results. Every unrehearsed “um” or “ah” will be like a thousand tiny cuts into my soul.

I am a bit of a perfectionist, despite the absolute lack of perfection in almost everything I do. I live a life of perpetual dissatisfaction, but I don’t typically have to re-live my failures.

So I may avoid listening to this week’s podcast altogether.

Still, I think the talk went well despite my unprepared state, my wish for an elderly woman’s death, and the apparent arrival of her spirit mid-talk. If you are interested, you can listen to the podcast on the Books on the Nightstand website or download it from iTunes and perhaps become a regular listener.  And I did listen to the other author featured in the podcast, Ellen Meeropol, and she is most certainly worth a listen.

Defending my biography

During a recent book event in Vermont, two different people assigned to introduce me jocularly questioned the various biography pages that I have scattered throughout the Internet. Specifically, a few things came into question, so I thought I’d clear them up here and now.

First, my official bio was written by a friend (and theoretical biophysicist) who entered my bio writing contest last year and won.  The seemingly rambling but perfectly grammatical sentence is a nod toward author Jose Saramago, whose style is something that I have criticized often and who is mentioned in the bio:

Matthew Dicks, who is not one for long, crafted sentences, preferring the stylings of Vonnegut over those of Saramago, is an author whose works, to date, include the novels Something Missing and Unexpectedly Milo; a successful blog and a number of Op Ed pieces, all of which, at some level or another, tend to examine the outcomes of the quirky and/or rebellious individual when forced up against staid society; however, to say that he is an author is an understatement (or possibly an overstatement, since he devised a contest to compose this author bio and then chose the ramblings of a theoretical biophysicist as the winning entry), for this husband and father from Newington, CT, who has faced a number of near-death experiences, lived in his car, and been tried for a crime that he did not commit, is also an acclaimed elementary teacher who has received the Teacher of the Year Award, is the co-owner of a DJ business, and still wishes that he could beat some of his friends at golf. 

A year later, I still like this biography a lot.

As for the specifics from other biographies that were called into question this weekend:

Yes, I died twice before the age of eighteen and was revived by paramedics both times. Posts describing these incidents can be found here and here.

Yes, I was a pole vaulter, and a damn good one, too, until the aforementioned car accident/near-death experience caused me to miss my senior season. A post describing my experience as a pole vaulter can be found here.

And yes, I was a bassoonist, as well as a flutist and a drummer.

I began my musical career as a flutist in third grade when my mother forced the instrument on me, declaring it quiet enough for her to accept. A week later I discovered that I was one of only two male flutists in the entire town, and the other was a boy three years older than me named Kevin who rode my school bus and was the biggest nerd I had ever seen.

While I enjoyed the flute, the act of playing it was socially devastating.

When I arrived at our junior-senior high school in seventh grade, I was asked to join the marching band as a drummer. Lacking a football team, my school’s marching band became the centerpiece of my high school’s competitive endeavors, and our marching band was considered one of the best in the country.

In need of bodies who could keep time in order to fill out the bass drum line, the music director saw an average flutist, an athlete who could carry a bass drum for hours without tiring, and a young man who despised the stigma of his instrument. Summing up my desires well, he asked if I would like to switch to drum line during the marching band season.

Needless to say I jumped at the chance.

In my six years in the marching band, we won the Massachusetts championship four times, the New England championship three times, and I had the opportunity to march in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and the Rose Bowl parade.

Some of the best times of my life.

In the off-season, however, there was no need for two dozen drummers in the Wind Ensemble, so for the first three off-seasons, I was forced to return to the flute until the day that my school purchased its first bassoon and was in need of a bassoon player.

Once again seeing a middling flute player who was not enjoying his instrument, the band director asked if I would like to become the school’s first bassoonist, and once again, I jumped at the chance.

I became the school’s first bassoonist, and I played it until I graduated from high school.

Two near death experiences before the age of eighteen, a career as a pole vaulter, and a bassoon player.

All true.

Top 10 ideas about books

After spending the weekend with one hundred readers and eight other authors at the Books on the Nightstand Retreat, here is a rundown of the thoughts and ideas that have emerged from the experience: ________________________________________

1. Family members who do not read the book that another family member has written are surprisingly pervasive and the basest of all human beings.

2. When someone tells you that they don’t like fiction, remind them that most of what they watch every night on the idiot box is fiction.

3. The spiteful wish for an elderly woman’s death is probably not the best thing to include in a talk meant to inspire people.

4. When possible, avoid eye contact with your wife while delivering a book talk. While your audience may be willing to disguise their disappointment and horror with benign smiles and polite nods, your wife is not.

5. A book talk places the author in the position of salesperson. He can sell the product or sell himself.  I believe the latter to be always preferable.

6. The willingness of an author to overshare is excellent for his readers but not always great for his marriage.

7. The ability to form a tightly-knit community of like-minded people and bring them together from the corners of the globe for a weekend of laughter and learning is not done through a blog or a podcast but through the unselfish willingness of two extraordinary people to share themselves with the world. Admiration is not the word to be used when describing one’s feelings about these people. It is nothing short of reverence.

8.  A excellent book club choice is likely to be one that at least half your book club despises with a vengeance.

9.  The authenticity of an inexperienced speaker will almost always overshadow the poise and polish of an experienced one.

10.  When a group of nearly one hundred people dub your wife Saint Elysha, you probably should send flowers soon.

Know thyself, or just read what festival organizers have to say about you instead

My appearance at the upcoming Connecticut Book Festival has been finalized for those interested in attending.  I will be speaking on Sunday from 10:00-11:00 AM at the University of Connecticut Greater Hartford Campus. 

I’ll then be signing books from 11:00 AM -12:00 PM.

More details to follow, including the schedules for the other authors appearing. 

In examining the The Connecticut Book Festival’s author website this evening, I notice that it describes me as:

“A writer and teacher who tends to deal with the quirky and/or rebellious individual, forced up against staid society.”

It’s so interesting (and enlightening) to hear someone else’s interpretation of my work.  While this description may not fit my upcoming book, it certainly applies to my first two books, as well as my currently unpublished novel (CHICKEN SHACK). 

And yet, had you asked me to describe some of the common themes throughout my books, I’m not sure if I would have said anything like this.

And yet if I were to ask my friends to describe some of the ideas that are important to me, the rejection of formality, convention and meaningless tradition would probably top the list.

The mind works in mysterious ways indeed. 

The latest

Some recent writing-related news that I thought I’d share: 

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We sold the Korean rights to MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND this week, bringing the total number of languages that the book will be published in to eight! My super agent is simply super.   

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The rock opera that my friend and collaborator, Andy Mayo, and I wrote has been approved for a staged reading at our local playhouse, complete with real actors, a real director and a real band.  

This is the first step in a someday-maybe-full production of the show (and hopefully the sale of the script), and we couldn’t be more excited.  We’re looking at weekends at the end of October or beginning of November for the reading, and once we lock up a date, I’ll be sure to share it.  The reading will be open to the public, and there will be opportunities to comment on the script and music after the show via a moderated question-and-answer session.

_______________________

It looks as if I will be conducting writing classes at a local bookstore this summer, and this may include a class on finding a literary agent.  I’ll keep you updated in the event that you are interested in attending. 

_______________________

I have two appearances coming up in April and May. 

I will be speaking at the the Books on the Nightstand retreat from April 8-10 in Manchester, Vermont.  The registration for this event is closed, but if you love books and reading, you should consider downloading and listening to the Books on the Nightstand podcast, hosted by Ann Kingman and Michael Kindness.  They are the organizers for the April retreat, and their knowledge of books and the publishing industry is second to none.   

I will also be speaking at the Connecticut Book Festival on May 21-22 at the Greater Hartford Campus of the University of Connecticut.  This event is open to the public and will include writers such as Wally Lamb, Jim Benn and Connecticut Poet Laureate Dick Allen. 

_______________________        

I think I have finally settled on my next book.  Over the past month, I have been working on four different novels simultaneously, including a sequel to MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND.  I was hoping that as I wrote, one story would assert itself as the next to be born and shine above the rest. 

To be honest, this hasn’t really happened.  All four stories are proceeding along nicely, but trying to write four books at the same time is making me crazy.  So I’ve settled on one for now.  My editor and publisher may request some input in terms of my next book at some point in the future, so my decision may change, but for now, I am officially working on THE PERFECT COMEBACK OF CAROLINE JACOBS, the story of a woman who decides to return to her hometown after more than twenty years in order to issue the perfect comeback to an insult that was directed at her in high school.

There’s much more to the story, of course, but that’s where the idea began.

Thanks as always for all of the support!

Self administered surgery

Last night I did a reading at the Millville Public Library in Millville, MA, a town adjacent to my hometown and one of two towns that sent students to my regional high school. My wife and daughter made the trip with me, and Clara behaved like a pro during my talk. While I read and spoke and answered questions, she played with toys and read books off to my left, so quiet that I forgot that she was there for a time.

 

Several of my high school friends attended the event, people with whom I should really spend more time, and after the reading, we had a chance to chat about our school days together.

I’ll be sharing a few of their recollections in a series of posts over the coming week.

Amongst the conversation topics included one classmate’s recollection of the time I extracted a piece of windshield glass from my forehead in a peer education class, a feat I reproduced in geometry class and on a bus during a trip to a marching band competition. After high school, I also extracted glass from my forehead several times, including once on vacation in New Hampshire when one of my friends would not believe that there was glass in my forehead.

I tore into my forehead and pulled out a piece out of spite.

The glass was the result of a car accident that sent my head crashing into the windshield of my Datsun B-210. Amongst the many lasting effects of the accident was a forehead full of glass. All but one piece has since been removed.

If there is a doctor in the house, please tell me how the hell I was permitted to walk around for years after my accident with shards of glass in my forehead.

Is this normal?

Was the plan for these corn kernel-sized pieces of glass to eventually migrate to the surface of my skin and break through?

Did the doctors forget to inform me of the plan?

Did they think that restarting my heart and respiration and repairing my knees and mouth was enough work for one day?

What kind of medical care was available in 1988?

In fact, they also did a lousy job with one of my knees. Until I had a second surgery ten years after the accident to correct the problem, my right knee would occasionally bleed, leaking like a sieve for no explicable reason.

Seriously, what kind of medical care was being doled out at Milford Hospital in the winter of 1988?

Rewriting Melville

When I was in 8^th grade, I was asked to write a book report on a novel by a famous American author. Mrs. Bennett took the class to the library and instructed us to spend the period searching for a book that we would read and then use to write our reports. Book reports, by the way, are stupid.

Even as a teacher today, I can attest to this fact. Is there a better way to ruin the excitement of a book? Asking a kid to write a book report is like taking the green pepper that you hope your child will learn to love and dipping it in paint thinner.

Stupid.

Aware of the stupidity of the book report at an early age, I made every effort to avoid the process. When we arrived in the library, I immediately grabbed a stool and began searching the top rows for any novel by a famous American author. I reasoned that books shelved high enough to require a stool to access were likely read less often. My goal was to find a book that hadn’t been touched in years.

Eventually I find just such a book. Omoo by Herman Melville. Thanks to the cards that were still tucked inside the covers of books in those days, I was able to see the date that this book was last taken out by a student or teacher:

More than nine years ago.

It looked as if it had been sitting up there for a while as well. Covered in dust, smelling of must, and creaking when I opened it for the first time. I took the book to Mrs. Bennett for approval, and she declared it to be a fine choice. “I’ve never read that one before,” she said and expressed anticipation in reading about it in my report.

Just what I had wanted.

Rather than reading the book, I spent the next two weeks inventing the plot, characters, and theme of this book and writing a report about my musings. I skimmed the first chapter for character names, but otherwise the entire report reflected my personal version of Omoo, complete with a scathing critique of my story.

My grade: A

I still have the paper.

In order to ensure that I would not be discovered, I kept the book in my possession for three full months after receiving my grade, telling the librarian that I had lost it.  Prior to the Internet, it would have been difficult, if not impossible, for Mrs. Bennett to locate another copy of a relatively unknown novel by the great writer. Had she been so inclined, she might have taken a trip to local libraries and book stores in hopes of finding a copy, but I doubted that she would go through the trouble. Had she asked to see the book, I planned to tell her that I had lost it.

Paying $20 to the library to ensure the sanctity of my excellent grade would have been well worth it.

Of course, Mrs. Bennett never asked for the book, and three months after my grade had been posted, the book was finally returned to its top shelf.

Wouldn’t it be great to see if it has been taken out by anyone since that day?

I have still not read Omoo, nor have I read Typee, the first in what turns out to be a Melville trilogy (Omoo is the second of the three). But I may get around to reading it someday. I would love to spend a week reading Omoo and comparing my story to that of Melville.

I often wonder which one was better.

Meanest comments of the year

Occasionally, while on book tour, I find myself saying mean things to audience members. I know.  Probably not a good idea, but sometimes I can’t help it.

My two meanest comments from this year:

Mean Comment #1

While speaking to an 82-year old woman, she informed me that she had a great story to tell, and that “one of these days, I’ll get around to writing it.”

“One of these days?” I asked.  “Why not today?”

“I’m not ready yet,” she said.

“I don’t mean to offend you, but you’re 82-years old. You’re running out of time.”

“Are you implying that I am going to die someday soon?”

“Certainly before me,” I said. “And yes. Probably someday soon. You need to start writing before it’s too late.”

She was not happy.

Mean Comment #2

In answering a question about finding the time to write, I explained that I write in 10-30 minute increments, whenever I can find the time. Six sentences here. A dozen pages there. A full day from time to time, especially during the summer. Any free moment that I can find. Though I’d love to spend a couple hours at a time working on my manuscript, my lifestyle simply doesn’t permit it at this time.

A woman who had expressed a desire to write but had not yet started said, “That’s all well and good, but I just can’t work like that.”

“You can’t work like that?” I said, perhaps a little harsher than I had intended.  “You’re not working at all. How could you possibly know how you write until you actually try to write?”

“Ouch!” said her husband, who instantly regretted the smile on his face.

Strangest question this year

Strangest question asked of me while on book tour this year: How have your ex-girlfriends played a role in the writing of your fiction?

When I asked the woman if something in my books caused her to wonder about this, she said, “No. You just seem like the kind of guy who would have a lot of ex-girlfriends.”

I’m not sure what this meant, and I was afraid to ask.

Though the question was a little baffling and certainly odd, I welcome these sorts of questions because they give me an opportunity to tell stories while weaving my way to a legitimate answer.

I have lots of stories.

So although I couldn't think of a way that any of my ex-girlfriends played a role in the writing of any of my books (other than naming a character after my high school sweetheart), I answered the audience member’s question by telling her about the girlfriend who slept with her eyes open, the hair dresser who I broke up with because she was a terrible kisser and the stalker named Kim who my best friend dumped upon me while I was recuperating from my car accident and unable to fend her off.

I’m still angry with him about that one.

Bested by Best Western

Sometimes I find myself caught in a moment that could appear in one of my books someday. I’m parked at the Best Western in Troy, New York. I just finished my appearance at Market Block Books, and as expected, my car won’t start. The starter has been giving me trouble, and I already had to call a tow truck earlier that morning to help me pop-start the car at a Marriot in Albany.

Thankfully, the car has a standard transmission.

I’ve parked in such a way to make it easy to roll the car down a slight grade in the parking lot, but I am not proficient at popping the clutch at the right moment. I try three times, pushing the car back up the slight incline each time, without success.

I am frustrated and exhausted. After being away from home for two days, I just want the damn thing to start. I don't have the energy to roll it back up the hill again if I fail.

At that moment two maids appear from a side door in the Best Western. They are Hispanic and speak almost no English. They are dressed in smocks and aprons. They are both considerably older than me. One of them orders me from the driver’s seat, speaking entirely in Spanish, and takes my place behind the wheel. Her compatriot takes up a position behind the car and orders me to join her, also speaking in Spanish. Together, we push the car, and at just the right moment, the first woman pops the clutch and the car roars to life.

Yes. My car was started by two non-English speaking, fifty-something Best Western maids who had probably been watching me push my car back and forth across their parking lot for twenty minutes before coming out in frustration and annoyance at the idiot who couldn’t pop a clutch.

I’m not proud of myself, but I’m home.

The backhanded compliment bio

Last night’s appearance at Posman Books in Chelsea Market went well, and the turnout was terrific. Anytime a bookseller must drag out more chairs and offer stools to a standing-room audience, you feel good. And last night marked the debut of my new author bio, read by the bookseller as part of her introduction of me. She asked if there was something on the Random House website that she might use, and though I’m sure there is something (yup, there is), I told her about my recent bio writing contest and the winner, written by Charles Wolgemuth, and we immediately jumped online and printed it from this blog.

Earlier in the day, my publicist gave the new bio her enthusiastic approval, only requesting one small change. We still await the opinion of my vacationing editor, but it’s looking like Charles’s bio will soon become official.

In contrast to the entry that I shared yesterday, which referred to me as the modern-day Mark Twain (someone on Facebook later suggested that the modern day Tom Sawyer might be more apropos), comes this entry that I thought I would share today. Written by Suzanne Thompason, the mother-in-law of a good friend, and someone who I have never met, this was the only entry that does not cast me in entirely glowing terms.

And I sort of admire Suzanne’s backhanded-compliment and her willingness to stick it to me.

It’s the kind of thing I might have done.

Matthew Dicks' partially autobiographical first novel, Something Missing, reveals a somewhat subversive character who enjoys the idea of undetected crime and secretly believes that he is cleaner than most folks (and, by implication, better).  Mr. Dicks himself vehemently denies these characteristics.  To further probe his many-faceted personality, visit his website at www.matthewdicks.com or check out his blog at matthewdicks.com.

UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO update

My book tour continues this week with appearances at The Book Cellar in Brattleboro, Vermont on Thursday night at 7:00 and at Water Street Books in Essex, New Hampshire on Saturday night at 7:00.

I’ve been guest blogging about book tours on Water Street’s blog, which you can read about here.  My final post in the three-part series goes up this week.

The following week I will be in New York City, appearing at Posman Books in Chelsea Market on Tuesday, August 24 at 7:00 and Wednesday, August 25 at WORD in Brooklyn at 7:30.

Information on my WORD appearance ran in New York Magazine and in Time Out New York this week, both of which gave me a minor thrill.

Also, the first line of UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO was chosen by The Financial Post as their Opening Line of the Week.  It reads:

The moment that Milo Slade had attempted to avoid for nearly his entire life finally arrived under the sodium glow of a parking lot fluorescent at a Burger King just south of Washington, D.C., along Interstate 95.

Following today’s New York Times book Review write-up, all of this has made for an exciting week.

Unexpected links

A couple links you may be interested in related to UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO: The first two parts (Part 1) (Part 2) in a three-part series on the realities of a book tour. I’m writing these pieces for the Water Street Books blog in preparation for my upcoming appearance in a couples weeks.

A terrific review of UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO on Book Page.

Probably my favorite review of all-time.  I expect to be re-reading it in times of doubt.

Cupcakes and college professors

I rounded off the week with two more book appearances following my first appearance at Barnes and Noble on pub day. 

On Wednesday night, I traveled to Suffield, CT to spend the evening with the good folks at Kent Memorial Library.  It was a sizable audience of enthusiastic readers, many of whom had already read SOMETHING MISSING and were anxious to read UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO.  The introduction that I received was second to none (citing many of the oddities from my life and confirming to me that some people read this blog with great regularity) and the questions that I received from the audience were varied and thought-provoking, ranging from my writing process to my thoughts on standardized testing of elementary school children.     

And best of all were these cupcakes, which were cute and tasty.  

On Thursday night my wife and I were off to RJ Julia, one of my favorite bookstores in the world.  There was a time when we would routinely drive the hour down to Madison just to browse the store and walk away with a book or two, but the last time we made the trip, we had Clara with us, who can now walk and tear books off the shelf. 

I fear that our browsing days are over for a while. 

It was a small crowd at RJ Julia, but amongst the attendees was one of my former college professors, whom I did not initially recognize.  She arrived bearing gifts: two recommendation letters that she had written for me in 1996 that helped me gain admission to Trinity College and be named as one of USA Today’s Academic All Americans.  Though she had sent these letters to their respective parties years ago, I had never seen them myself.  They are quite nice. 

Best of all, she described me to everyone present as “one of the most gracious and giving students she’s ever known.”

I assume she’s confusing me with someone else, but it was still nice to hear.

UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO book tour begins!

Last night friends and family and loyal readers and complete strangers gathered at the Barnes and Noble in Blue Back Square for the first appearance of my book tour.  An estimated seventy-five people showed up to listen to me speak and read, and many were kind enough to purchase my book in bushels.

A few comments from the evening’s festivities:

1.  There were definitely not enough seats, and not nearly enough room for the crowd.  At one point I felt bad for sitting after noticing that so many people were standing.

2.  My daughter’s great grandmother asked the first question of the evening.  My writing career began in her Floridian home when I found myself bored and bereft of the Internet and nothing else to do.

3.  Three people brought me gifts, which was a first.  And all three gifts were great.  I’m going to take them to tonight’s appearance and make the people feel bad for not bringing me any gifts.  And I’d love to find a way of perpetuating this tradition at future appearances.

4.  I did not settle on a standard catchphrase to include when signing the book, but I used Michael Kindness’s suggestion of “Expectedly,” as well as my own “Still in search of a clever quip” several times.  I tried to mix things up a bit and see what felt right.  I like both but am still looking to upgrade. 

5.  I mistakenly told the audience that my wife is messy while attempting to answer a question about my possible propensity toward OCD. I spent the rest of the night looking for ways to make it up to her. 

6. My friend, Tom, was identified by a complete stranger based upon a blog post that I wrote about him and a few disparaging references made about him while I spoke.  It’s amazing how transparent my life has become, and by proxy, the lives of some of my friends.   

7.  I rewarded the person with the “most intriguing question” with a bottle of Smuckers grape jelly, which I opened as part of my presentation.  If you read the book, you’ll understand the reference.  The question:

What is your favorite chapter in the book? 

I was immediately torn between two options but finally settled on chapter 24, which is in many ways the heart of the book, at least for me. 

8.  I always recommend other books at my appearances, and last night I recommended five.  They were:

STITCHES by David Small: A graphic novel and memoir about the author, who received radiation treatments as a child from his father in order to cure his asthma, leading to the loss of vocal cords.  And that was just the beginning of the horrors that he was forced to endure.   

THE FERMATA by Nicholson Baker: The hilarious story of a man who can stop time and uses this power to undress women. 

THE EX-BOYFRIEND COOK by Erin Ergen Bright and Thisbe Nissen: An amusing  cookbook containing the recipes, stories and artifacts collected from the authors’ ex-boyfriends. 

IN THE HEART OF THE SEA by Nathaniel Philbrick: The true story of the Essex, a whaling ship that was sunk by a sperm whale in the nineteenth century, and the inspiration for Melville’s MOBY DICK.  This is the book I recommend the most often.

ARMEGEDDON IN RETROSPECT, by Kurt Vonnegut: A collection of twelve non-fiction pieces by the author on the subject of war and peace.  Perfect for someone who has difficulty with Vonnegut’s unconventional fictional style but appreciates biting satire, keen observation and laugh-out-loud humor. 

It was a lot of fun and an excellent way of starting off a book tour.  Many thanks for all who came up and supported the cause!

        

Infecting the Internet

I’ve been writing some guest posts for various blogs recently, and two went up yesterday if you’re interested in clicking over and checking them out. 

On the Water Street Books blog, I’m writing a three-part series on the realities of a book tour.  The first post describes certain aspects of my book tour from the previous year.  Posts in the coming two weeks will deal with some particularly amusing and slightly horrifying experiences from last year’s tour.  The people, the places, and the lunatics who made my year memorable.

I’ll be appearing at Water Street Books in Exeter, New Hampshire on August 21.  If you’re in the area, stop by and say hello!

On author Stacy Juba’s blog, I wrote a post about what I was doing twenty-five years ago this year to coincide with her latest novel, TWENTY-FIVE YEARS FROM TODAY. 

Twenty-five years ago, I was a freshman in high school, and it was an eventful year indeed.

Thanks for clicking!