Blurb sluts

Not sure if it's a folk tale or written by someone, but there's a story about the man who married a woman suffering from a curse.  He was told that she could either appear beautiful to the world and ugly only to him, or ugly to the world and beautiful to him.  He thought about it for a while and then said he'd let her choose, which was not only a wise answer but precisely the answer needed to break the curse, so she'd be beautiful to everyone all the time. 

I couldn't help thinking of that tale when I heard another story, this one about a famous writer who, when asked if he (or she; I've heard this story about several famous writers, so it may be apocryphal) would read a new writer's book and give it a blurb, replies, "I'll either read it or give it a blurb--which one would you like?"  I think the wise answer in this case would be, "Gee, never mind; sorry I bothered you."

Periodically, DorothyL and other lists discuss the question of whether writers who do blurbs actually read the books they blurb, and whether blurbs even mean much.  I can only speak for myself, but my answers are "Damn right I do" and "Beats me."

Do blurbs make a difference?  I'm not sure I've ever bought a book on the strength of a blurb.  But that could be because I spend a lot of money buying books by writers because I've loved their previous books, heard rave reviews from friends whose judgment I trust, or heard the author talk intelligently at a signing or convention and got interested in reading his or her work.   But I'm in the factory with the other sausage-makers, so I'm definitely not your average book buyer.

But yes, I read the books I blurb.  The only time I'd ever agree to blurb a book I hadn't read would be if the request came from someone whose work I already know I love.  For example, Laura Durham, who's in my critique group, asked if I'd blurb her first book, Better Off Wed.  I hadn't read it--I joined the group after she'd turned it in--but I knew from the first few chapters she'd brought in of the sequel that I wasn't going to have a problem.   Loved it as much as I had the few chapters, and am drumming my fingers impatiently for more.

The rest of the time, it's if I like it, and for that matter, if I have time to read it by the deadline.  I can think of at least one book I received in the last year that I'd willingly have blurbed if I'd read it in time.  When I finally did manage to open it, I loved it. . . but a couple of months too late.  And then there were several I just couldn't get into in the summer and fall of 2004, when I was dealing with Dad's cancer.  Partly a matter of time, and partly mood.  I was relieved that the authors didn't push too hard.  Which would have been the most painful answer to hear?

a) I really can't blurb it.  I didn't like it; couldn't even get past the first chapter
or
b) excuse me, but my father's dying of cancer and I'm not reading a whole lot of fiction right now, so please don't bother me.

Hmm....probably a.  Hearing about someone else's horrible life is bad, yeah, but learning that the someone did not (in the middle of that horribleness) love your book--definitely worse.   (And not necessarily accurate: I couldn't get into some pretty good books last year, for whatever reason.)

I'm just grateful people gave me the space, especially the ones whose books I eventually read and liked. (Leslie Caine, for example, asked me if I had time to read the first of her new series and, bless her heart,  didn't even send a manuscript after I told her what was going on in my life, which was maybe being too nice, because I bet I'd have liked Death by Inferior Design whenever I read it.   Enjoyed it when I read it during my recent tour, anyway; better saying it late than never.)

One of these days I'm going to finish and post the blurb section of my nonfiction work in progress, Everything You Needed to Know About the Etiquette of the Publishing Industry But Had No Idea Who To Ask.  When I don't have a book deadline looming.

In the meantime, the subject of blurbs (and blurb sluts) has been on my mind because there's a rumor that a well-known author has been, well, offering to sell blurbs or reviews.  Sign up for this service, and you can get a rave review on the author's website, maybe a signed Amazon five-star review.  No information on whether you can negotiate to have the author clap you on the back in the corridors at Bouchercon and shout, "Loved the book!"  Still to be determined whether a requisite amount of visible bar-schmoozing with the famous one is included in the service.  And this service is going to be reasonably exclusive, isn't it?  I mean, who wants to be one of the best forty or fifty books the busy famous author has read this year.

So until I learn more details about this new money-making venture for authors, I'm not going to introduce my own competing service.  But I have some ideas.   Just tossing around some rough figures, mind you, but here's what I've come up with so far:

Website link: $5
Working website link: $50
Blog mention: $5
Humorous blog mention: $50
Blog entry claiming that I've read your book: $100
Actually reading your book and saying something intelligent about it: contact management for current rates.
Mentioning your book in public as what I'm currently reading: $25
Mentioning your book as one of my year's favorites: sliding scale, depending on where the mention appears.  Contact management to negotiate terms.

Some ancillary services I'm thinking of arranging, now that summer is here and a lot of college and high school students are on the prowl for employment.
Literary footsoldiers.  For a nominal fee, we will send groups of presentable-looking individuals out in public to read your book conspicuously and display appropriate reactions (laughter, tears, nail-biting, feigning inability to put the book down with resulting dramatic crashes into walls, etc.)
Bookstore guerillas.  Seasoned shoppers will infiltrate the city's bookstores and turn your book face out if the bookstore carries it.  If the bookstore does not carry it, they will ask where it is and whine persistently about how annoyed they are that the bookstore doesn't have it.  Similar services will be available for libraries.
Signing shills.  For a minimal fee, you can have all seats filled at your next signing.  Additional charges apply for minor speaking roles (asking questions, offering unsolicited praise, etc.)  Actors capable of portraying obsessed fans are available on a limited basis; reserve yours early.

I'm sure once I get going, I'll think of dozens of other useful services to offer the aspiring writer.  All I have to do is watch a few avid readers and then figure out what to charge for what they do for free. 

Which is (getting briefly serious again) what ticks me off.  Those of us who love reading and want to support our writing friends and colleagues do this stuff all the time, and mostly for free.  Maybe sometimes for barter--hey, link to me and I'll link to you.  But mostly just because we read someone's book and liked it.  We read our friends' books in public and revel when someone asks us about what we're reading.  We try to hit each other's signings, especially if it's a nasty, rainy night.  Go to our first-time author friends' panels even if they're opposite the humor panel.  Turn each others' books face out.   Stuff like that.

Lelia Taylor of Creatures 'n' Crooks Bookshoppe once laughed at me when I started roaming up and down her shelves, pulling out books by other writers and burbling about them to a couple of her customers.  Why was I selling other people's books?  Why not?  They were savvy, intelligent readers (in other words, they'd already bought all my books).  And it would be another six months to a year before I had another book out.  Why not introduce such superior readers to a few other books they might enjoy? That's how I've learned about some of my favorite books--because people who loved them told me about them.

For free.

(In other words, disregard the above fee schedule.  I'm not going to be selling blurbs.  When it comes to books, I'm for free love, not prostitution.)

Comments

[Deborah Brown]

If I may, I believe the story is an old folktale. I've read it in the course of Arthurian research fairly recently, but I'm not sure if it's actually part of that set of folklore or older.

[Mark]

I'm glad to see you aren't charging. I was calculating that I owed you $15 already to two blog mentions and a link, and I'm not even a published author.

I agree with you. I love and have always loved talking about my favorite authors and trying to get others to read them. It's especially satisfying to hear that someone tried an author I like and liked them to. That's why I started reviewing at Amazon, to try to spread the word on authors I love. So I've gotten caught up in the ranking competition which led me to branch out to CD's and DVD's rather early. It's still a matter of wanting to let people know about things I like I think they will to. And I'm more then willing to do it for free.

Although I certainly wouldn't turn my nose up at free books. :)

[Mark]

After hitting send, decided I should clarify. That last sentence wasn't a request for free books from anyone. Just intending to be a humorous statement of fact.

[Rochelle]

Donna, love your fees, and your comments. I agree completely. How much will that cost?

[Donna]

Agreeing with me is always free! Quibbling gets expensive.