[See our previous editions of Authored, with writers Kamran Pasha, Shilpa Agarwal, Minal Hajratwala and Dilara Hafiz.]
Someone handed me an Uncorrected Proof of Tania James' "Atlas of Unknowns" a couple months ago. This would be the promotional, paperback version of the new book, with an additional yellow outer sleeve glued on. On that sleeve, in all-caps, it states: "Announced First Printing: 35,000"
Now, some of you may find that number unremarkable, but if it's more than wishful PR, it's quite a serious ambition for literary fiction. And it got me wondering just how this young Malayali-American talent--a New Yorker by way of Kentucky and Harvard--was going to achieve those kinds of sales, in this market.
It doesn't hurt to have the industrial heft of Alfred A. Knopf behind you, or blurbs by Nathan Englander, Junot Diaz and Ann Packer--or coverage in the San Francisco Chronicle or on NPR--but as Tania writes below, she's pursuing less glamorous routes as well: blogging, calling up Malayali organizations, producing a book trailer, and making the most of own's mother. Her tour is underway, with readings to come throughout Illinois, as well as in New York and Ohio.
But before the author holds forth, a bit of synopsis, not from the SF Chronicle's rave review--"one of the most exciting debut novels since Zadie Smith's 'White Teeth'"--but from Tania's website:
"In the wake of their mother’s mysterious death, Linno and Anju are raised in Kerala by their father, Melvin, a reluctant Christian prone to bouts of dyspepsia, and their grandmother, the superstitious and strong-willed Ammachi. When Anju wins a scholarship to a prestigious school in America, she seizes the opportunity, even though it means betraying her sister. In New York, Anju is plunged into the elite world of her Hindu American host family, led by a well-known television personality and her fiendishly ambitious son, a Princeton drop out determined to make a documentary about Anju’s life. But when Anju finds herself ensnared by her own lies, she runs away..."
Selling "Atlas of Unknowns" - by Tania James
First, a disclosure: I am a terrible salesman. In high school, I briefly worked as a knife salesman for Cutco Knives, a stint that ended soon after I severed my own finger during the paring knife presentation and had to stop because I was bleeding all over the meat cleaver. I quit a few months later, after my only sale came from my mother.
I like to think of that self-inflicted wound as a revealing moment, a clear indication that I was not meant to be in sales. Years later, I went to grad school for creative writing, where I gained only the slightest understanding of the book publishing process. I had no idea what the process required from the writer once the book went out into the world; I always assumed that, by this time, the writer would simply float to the next project, happily untethered to the grit and grime of having to do the actual selling.
There are some writers for whom such happy oblivion is accurate, but for me, a debut novelist coming of age during a recession, trying to push a hardcover novel during a dismal period in publishing unlike any the industry has ever seen, the reality looks different.
It has now been a month since the release of my book, "Atlas of Unknowns." I've learned some things and have remained clueless about others. What follows here is a bit of grit and grime from the trenches, and some humble advice.
Arm Thyself Online
Before my book came out, it seemed important to establish some sort of internet presence with a website. Different authors have websites for different reasons. Some want a beautifully designed piece to ignite curiosity or interest in the book; others prize information over design. I wanted a bit of both, though here’s another disclosure: I waited way too long before actually hiring a website designer. My designer was kind and talented enough to put together a quickie website by my pub date, April 21, something clear and simple where potential readers could find tour dates, reviews, etc. But she’s currently working on a more fancy-pants version that will hopefully be up by mid-June. If you’re in a financial bind, consider putting together a simple site at Squarespace.com (which charges a low monthly fee—that’s it) or try finding a designer at 99designs.com. There are ways of minimizing what can be massive production costs.
Now, a website is important for most writers but a book trailer isn’t for everyone. It’s unclear whether book trailers actually push sales, and most trailers cost a lot to make. In my case, I lucked out by getting the intensely talented Prashant Bhargava to make one for me out of Kumarakom footage he had shot for an earlier film of his called Backwaters. He juxtaposed some of these images against text from my book and author blurbs from Junot Diaz and Ann Packer, and the result, I think, is beautiful and appropriate to the book:
If not a trailer, you might consider asking a friend to film you reading from your work or talking about your work, which you can then post on YouTube and your website. These don’t have to be of super high production value; some trailers are really low-key, with low production costs but a high level of creativity. I know of one trailer where the writer just hopped on a subway train, and had each passenger read a line from his book. He cut these lines together and the effect is strange and funny and oddly captivating. It’s also appropriate to the book, Lowboy, which takes place in the New York City subways. So, in terms of trailers: think outside the frame.
Writer as Performer
And then we come to the readings.
I was late to my book launch reading. I have no good excuse other than the fact that I have no sense of direction and found myself wandering in several wrong directions before sprinting in the right one. I arrived at the packed bookstore, slid into the chair behind the mic, and about a minute into the reading, my nose began to run. I couldn’t stop the reading; who had ever stopped a reading to blow one’s nose? To my great dismay, there was a mic to capture every last sound, and as the reading went on, I grew more and more panicky about the inner operations of my nose. Later, a friend told me that she thought I was getting emotional about what I was reading. I’m not sure which is worse: reading with a runny nose, or weeping over the gloriousness of one’s own prose. After that, I made sure to drink water, arrive early, and bring Kleenex.
But no matter the preparation, there are still times when the fledgling writer is reminded of just how fledgling she is, as when she arrives at a reading to find just one person waiting in the audience. This reading took place at Harvard, among students who wanted nothing more than to study for their final exams. Six students showed up in the end, as well as five kind friends. As I read, a certain part of my brain floated back to a conversation I had had with a friend who was then in the audience; he had counseled me to “give it my all,” whether there be one person in the audience or a hundred. And at that moment, I decided to agree with him. I closed off all thoughts of embarrassment, and threw myself into the rest of the reading, which went surprisingly well, judging from the discussion that followed.
Exploiting the Auntie Network
When people ask me what I’m writing at the moment, my usual answer is: “email.” If I'm not emailing, I'm often googling someone who might be open to receiving an email from me. Desi organizations, Malayali groups, literary blogs, college and high school alumni magazines: anyone and everyone with whom my book may have the slightest relevance. I know what you're thinking, my writer friend: you're an introvert, you're non-confrontational, you don't like to toot your own horn. But the internet makes confronting and horn-tooting so easy; if someone rolls their eyes at yet another email from you, at least you can't see it. And rejection is painless, as it usually comes in the form of silence, so there is no shame in politely elbowing your way into someone's inbox.
Also: if you are South Asian, you probably have a South Asian mother, and it is no small blessing that within every South Asian mother is a publicist who understands how to rally the South Asian network of her geographic region. Once again: do not fall prey to shame. She's not trying to arrange your marriage. She's just trying to rescue you from anonymity. And maybe your uncles and aunties aren't the trendsetters who will crown the fresh new voice in contemporary literature, but they will come to your readings and they will tell their kids and they will almost always buy the book.
In Sum
I have to say that there's something enjoyable in getting down and dirty with the publicity process. I love meeting readers and writers, talking about writing, reading insightful reviews. There is only a brief window during the life of a book when all this is possible, when the world is curious, so when self-promotion seems daunting, repeat to yourself, as I do, the wise words of Rick Ross, a rapper whose refrain is maybe repetitive but invigorating for the introverted writer:
Everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm hustlin'
Everyday I'm, everyday I'm
[hustlin]...
In a few days I'll be diving back into the tour, with stops in Chicago, Cleveland, New York, and Baltimore. Come say hi at one of those readings, or at www.taniajames.com.
