How to Handle Your Book Event (and How Not to)

Many of us have fantasies about our book parties. These fantasies usually involve delighting an audience of well-wishers before clutching a pen, opening up to a title page and writing some witty words worthy of Dorothy Parker before finishing the signing with our autograph.

But that’s only part of it. The other part—the big part—is about selling books.

If your event is at a book store, the book store has you there for one reason and one reason only: they believe you will sell books. They don’t care if your book is good. They don’t care if you have a charming personality that will be evident as you read aloud. They don’t care if you read aloud, are “in conversation with”1 another writer or stand on your head and screech your book title over and over again in Pig Latin.

If they’re willing to section off a corner of their book store and pay staff to be there, they have some reason to believe that customers will show up and purchase your book.

As an author, this puts you in an interesting position and by “interesting,” I mean less-than-ideal.

Because here’s the thing: you’re grateful that anyone showed up. If you’re in LA and the people battled rush hour traffic and probably had 16 other places they could be at that moment, you’re especially grateful.

But after you do your reading or your talk or your “in conversation with,” you start signing books and that’s when the math calculations and head drama starts.

You notice that your friend Felicity isn’t buying a copy of the book. You remember that you gave her a copy when you first got the box of books. But you wonder: couldn’t she buy it anyway? Is it rude to ask her to buy a copy when you already gave her one? Is she really your friend? Wouldn’t a friend know to buy it? Before you’ve figured out the answer, you see your college roommate wave from the door as she ducks out. She’d told you when she walked in that she’d have to leave early to pick her kid up from a play date but now you see that this means she didn’t have time to buy the book.

You start to stress. You’re sure the book store will know that having you here was a mistake. You see another friend drinking a Diet Coke near the cash register. She told you last week she can barely make rent; obviously she’s not going to buy the book.

You wonder if you have any right to be mad at people who showed up for you. You don’t! You know you don’t! And yet you are!

You sign copies for the few people who shelled out for them. But you’re so focused on the sales you’re not making, and how that means the book store won’t ever have you back, that you forget the name of that girl you used to work with who shows up, clearly so excited for you. You try to cover forgetting her name by asking her if she knows the person behind her in line, hoping against hope that they won’t know each other so she’ll have to say her name. But they do know each other so no names are exchanged and how on earth can you ask this former coworker who showed up for you and who actually bought the book her name? You can’t! And yet you do!

To be fair, that’s not what every reading/signing is like. Sometimes no one shows up at all. And sometimes it’s really fun. My first book event ever—for Party Girl, at Book Soup—was magical. Over 100 people came. There was an after party at this restaurant, Mirabelle, that used to be next door. It was a blast.

For my next book, Bought, I did the same thing: reading at Book Soup, party at Mirabelle. It wasn’t fun. Who knows why? Maybe you’re not supposed to repeat the past, maybe people just aren’t as excited for you on your second book. Oh also, I hated that book. That was probably why.

For my third and fourth books, same thing. I did events—some of which even got a lot of press2—but they were disappointing and exhausting. Since then, I’ve mostly been relieved not to do in person book store events.

That’s why I always tell people: forget the book store, unless doing a reading in a book store has been your lifelong dream. Instead, do something creative. Host a picnic, throw an event at an escape room or just have people over.

The point is, especially if it’s your first book, celebrate the F out of yourself. Just know that it won’t contribute to book sales as much as other things that are far less effort—say, trying to find an institution to bulk order your book or paying to appear in the media and then sharing that appearance everywhere you can.

That doesn’t mean that selling books at your event is wrong. You just have to go about it the right way.

My client Christos Garkinos did something very savvy. For his book coming out on March 23rd, he sent out an invite to a very fabulous launch event and when you RSVP’d, it simply asked if you’d bought the book and had a link to where you could.

I was just invited to another book event and the email said that you had to purchase a ticket for $5 to attend but that could count toward a purchase of the book. I liked that, too.

On the other end of that: I was recently invited to a book party at the house of an author (a super nice person who isn’t subscribed to this so hopefully won’t see it) and the invite said that to come, you had to show proof of receipt of the book. If anything makes me not want to go to a friend’s house, it’s having to show a receipt to get in.

So forget about selling books at your book party. Instead, celebrate yourself. Maybe that means not doing anything public at all, but just eating a cupcake in the bath.

My point is that you deserve to enjoy it as much as you can and not spend your time counting book sales (or trying to remember the name of your sweet former coworker who showed up).3