Recently I gave a book talk for a Cultural Club in Florida. The audience, a group of about 40 adults, listened with great enthusiasm, and afterwards several people lined up to buy books. Not bad, I thought, given the state of the economy, and especially since most of the audience was made up of retirees on fixed incomes. One woman came up to me and spoke with great excitement of her book club, which, she said, she was sure would love to read my book.
“Fantastic,” I said, “and if your group buys more than ten books there’s a discount of—“
Before I could finish speaking, a look of horror crossed her face. “Oh, no,” she said, “we never buy books. We just get our hands on a single copy and pass it around.”
Now I’m as thrifty as the next person, and pride myself on my frugality. I love libraries—when I was growing up, I read through the one in my school and then hounded the librarian for more books to read. But there comes a time when, as adults, we recognize that if we don’t support the arts that we love, chances are they will disappear. Most people accept the fact that if they want to hear a symphony, watch a play, or see a ballet, they’re going to have to pay for it. What, exactly, is it about books that makes it so difficult for people to buy?
Maybe it’s the internet age. Musicians struggle as their fans download their favorite songs for pennies—or pirate them for free. The same thing has happened with the written word. We’ve come to expect that anything we want to read can be obtained for free. Newspapers, articles, poetry, stories—even books. When was the last time you paid full price? Even if you decide to buy a new book, will you pass up the used version on Amazon for ninety-five cents and pay for the fourteen-dollar paperback?
I teach creative writing classes to adults, and recently we talked about the Google project to scan every single book into the internet. “I hate reading on a screen,” one of my students said with great indignation. “I would never give up books.” The discussion turned then to the Raymond Carver story we were studying. The week before I had given the students an excerpt to read, and now the same student exclaimed, “I loved it! I decided to read the whole story.” She proudly held up a fistful of papers. “I downloaded it from the internet!”
Recently I published my novel, and this is what I’ve learned. People who know you—especially relatives—will expect you to give them your book for free. Never mind the fact that they have no intention of actually reading it. Dare to even hint that they might pay you for it, and you will be met with stony silence. You have a better chance of selling to strangers—if they feel personally connected in some way to you or what you have written. This includes: meeting you, hearing you talk about your book, or getting a personal recommendation from someone who has read it. It’s called building an audience, and unless you’re already famous, it happens slowly, person by person, with a great deal of work and effort on your part.
I get it. People who love books nowadays are a little bit like people who loved horses just as Henry Ford was rolling his first Model T off the assembly line. Horses are still with us, and books will be, too, for some time to come, but their role in our society has changed. If you want to get somewhere fast, you’d better take your car. But if you want to experience the feel of a place, the weather and the landscape, nothing beats a horseback ride.
Here’s my confession. In the long run, it doesn’t matter to me whether or not you buy my books. I’m going to keep writing them. I can’t help myself. Writing makes me a better person, more sensitive, empathetic, open-minded, and—ask the people who share my household—easier to live with. But is that really the way you want to read? On the backs of people who write even though they can’t earn a dime? Put your money where your mouth is. If, right now, you are looking forward to the next book that will knock your socks off, show you something you’ve never seen before, or teach you something you never would have thought of, pony up. Start buying. If you need to save money, cut back somewhere else. Books are too precious to give up.
