Chuck Klosterman, author of Eating the Dinosaur, Killing Yourself to Live, and other works, picked up a galley copy of his new book and prepared the sharpie for an autograph. He looked up to read the name on my badge. I like to think that he recognized the fact that I was wearing his same author uniform: t-shirt, sneakers, beard growing to its fullest potential (despite how weak my own beard’s potential may be). He wrote one word to accompany his signature, Power. “Do with it what you will,” he said.
I spent last week in New York City, most of that time in the Javits Center attending BookExpo America 2011. For those interested enough to ask, no I did not achieve any of the following: sign with a literary agent, garner the money-throwing interest of a big time publisher, become the object of professional desire of an editor, become famous, pick you up a copy of all the free books I got (but you can borrow mine when I’m done).
What I did achieve: lots of networking, particularly with the Young to Publishing Group as we partied on a boat. Many business cards were exchanged and plenty of “It was nice to meet you” e-mails will soon be sent out. I flung myself/accosted many literary agents patrolling the aisles (easily identified by their red-tinged BEA badges and the rage they expressed at poorly-written queries) and introduced myself. As it turns out, one of the things they were least interested in doing was seeking new writers to acquire. Almost all of them denied a free copy of my book, and only one accepted the little portfolio I compiled full of book reviews for Somewhere Over the Sun and the first chapter of my second book. However, I got their business cards and, after another round of rewrites, I’ll begin querying. I handed out copies to booksellers, librarians and book bloggers, doing whatever I could with the little power I yield in order to get people to notice me.
Here’s the thing about that power that Chuck Klosterman bestowed onto me. It’s still on paper, still just a word. Which isn’t to say it’s a lifeless thing. No, no, after this week, it’s clear that words still yield an extraordinary amount of power, that there can still be rooms full of people moved by language and stories.
But mine is still confined to my writing. It has yet to be unleashed, and that’s something I expect will eventually change. I saw many writers speaking and signing and being sold by their big-six publisher, and I did not feel inferior. Just perhaps a little less lucky. I’m young, talented, dedicated, and despite how little attention I may have received at BEA, I’ve got power.
Power in the emails I’ll be sending to solidify my night of networking on Pier 6. Power in a debut novel that many have already fallen in love with, power in a nearly completed second manuscript, power in the books I am yet to write. For now, that power’s simply a word. But I’ve seen it become unleashed, seen it fill rooms full of people, and I know it can be something real.
