The NEW Rules of The Book Tour--Pow!'s Boston Week #1

Despite the happy faces of myself and Dave (Manager of Borders Downtown Boston store) above, times have changed in the book biz…and not for the better.

Times are tough in the book biz…and are set to get tougher.

Whoo-hoo!  Wow, what a great time to release Pow!

The only saving grace is that my book's subject matter gives me the excuse for what I’m about to spring on you.

Let’s be blunt: desperate times call for desperate measures, particularly in book stores, which are being eaten alive by the rise of online giants and the fall of discretionary income.   

Well, like the lounge lizard who misguidedly pops a Viagra ten minutes before a bar’s closing time, this over-reaching author understands the concept of desperation…and how to act on it. 

Fast.

So instead of embarking on the standard book tour (a nightmare best captured in this Village Voice article), visiting stores to sit behind a rickety bridge table and scratch out my moniker for a handful of people who most probably have mistakenly come thinking they’re about to meet legendary songster Randy Newman, this is the way I plan to turn the book biz's lemons into my lemoncello:

-- I will not read from my book. Not one word.  Instead, I will work with a local group of young musicians, spend the afternoon rehearsing, and regale customers with a chapter sung as if it were a rock opera. Pow! will thus be the first business book made into a musical; a hip “Mamma Mia” for the corporate set, of you will. It’ll have a good beat and yes, you can dance to it. 

-- I will set up a day care and baby-sit customers’ kids.  I can change diapers, wipe noses and recite both “Goodnight Moon” and “Caps For Sale” from memory.  One Pow! book buys mom or dad 30 minutes of offset responsibility.  If this works, I can expand the book-for-service concept into walking customer dogs, washing their cars, picking up their dry cleaning.  Their errand list can bring me to the best seller list.

-- I will pitch a tent like you see in county fairs and pitch my book with the infomercial-standard volume, pace and pitch of an over-caffeinated Billy Mays trying to shatter his monthly sales quota of Mighty Putty and Hercules Hooks.   (And if they act now, I’ll throw in this amazing apple peeler!

-- I will sell one-to-one.  Literally.  I will follow and pursue customers—upstairs, downstairs, out the door and down the street if need be—waving my book as if it were some holy scripture, until they acquiesce and buy it.  Call it short term gain (mine) for long-term pain (unfortunately, the bookstores’). 

-- I will unfold a cot and sleep in a store’s main window for an entire weekend.  Welcome to the human zoo.  Let customers gawk and throw me treats (for the record, I dig sushi, hotdogs in blankets and one-bite muffins for dessert).  Not only will I set the Guinness Book World Record for “Longest Book Signing,” sleeping in stores will allow my publisher to save on hotel and per diem costs.

-- I will kiss and/or dance with any female customer that buys a book (well, one of mine, of course).  No mere chit-chat or “move along, now” from me.  If this doesn’t cement the bond between reader and writer, nothing will.

-- I will boldly challenge each male customer to an arm wrestle.  I win, they buy a book.  I lose, they buy two.  Ouch, but worth it.

-- I will take the above one step further and set up a series of competitive poker matches.  Strip poker, that is (note: this is only for the most liberal of booksellers).  I win, they buy.  I lose, I disrobe.  End result:  record sales…or a police record.

-- I will hit up old Lottery Commission contacts and introduce “Loto-Book” where I’ll hide $50 bills in random books piled behind me.  Buy one for your chance to win!  Or better still, a “Scratch and Win” where customers scratch the cover of my book with a coin to see what they’ve won, which will be nothing other than a defaced book.

Well, there you have it.  Radical, industry-shaking ideas designed to surprise, make noise and, most importantly, sell truckloads of books.

And if these don’t move the needle and put me atop the New York Times Best-Seller List, I’m ready to take the most desperate action of them all:

-- Head to the Supreme Court and legally change my name to “J.K. Rowling.”