Clicks are people, too?
You think the Internet would know that about people. I mean, they gave us all the robot test for a reason….right? RIGHT??
Nah.
So, Hereafter Lies: R.I.P. came out September 1st. (I already talked about this on Instagram, just in case you déjà vu’d about it.) I went to one of the indie bookstores carrying Book, so I could see it on Shelf. And Book WAS there! And so close to one of my blurbers—Connie Willis—too! It’s almost like our names are alphabetical neighbors or something! :D
I took many pictures. And just as I was gearing up for some super-cool, book-over-the-shoulder selfie shots, a Man emerged to peruse the books (in a bookstore??? D: I know. Same.).
Feeling a tad awkward that I was holding a photo shoot with a book, I told Man, “If you buy that one, I’ll sign it for you… ha…haha….” And then I specified, “I’d sign the other ones too, but it would be um… weird.” All too aware that this was already weird, I diminished… and went into the west.
Actually, it was the east. The west would be new releases. I went to stare at birthday cards.
I wandered back to see if it was ALL CLEAR… (see what I did there? Because the Connie Willis book—never mind.) And it was! But I was thwarted by a short person (I’m a tall person) who needed assistance with the top-shelf books. Then, Man reemerged, holding a book—gasp!
I instantly recognized my chaotic paper son!
Man asked if I’d written Book.
I did. I did written Book.
He asked if I’d been serious about signing it.
Sure was.
And I sure did!
Man’s name was Joe. Joe said the book looked great. I got the impression that he fully intends to read it and everything!
I’m very lucky to have had that experience—on day one, no less. And I’m super-duper lucky to have a signing coming up this weekend. It’s always been fairly easy for me to forget that authors are real people—forget that they’re out there in the world, struggling to find motivation, or time, or resources, or their keys, or whatever. (Sorry, authors. :( )
Now, I find myself on the other side of the book. Of course, I haven’t hit numbers that make conceiving individuals through the figures difficult, and likely won’t. I don’t know if it’s always been easy for some authors to forget that readers are real people. But I do know that now, it is a built-in feature: things are designed in a way that discourages authors from seeing readers as real people. In our world of algorithm-ordained website placement and A.I.-policed reviews, authors aren’t presented with readers—real, key-losing people—so much as clicks. And click-throughs. And units sold. It’s pretty disgusting. I hate that this is the reality we’ve all been bullied into.
If Hereafter Lies sells one dozen copies in its first few months, then that is a disappointing figure by most metrics (or so I’ve been told). But that’s twelve people—twelve real-life alive types of people. People who have to go to work or school, and brush their teeth, and deal with robo calls, and struggle to remember what show that actress was in because I just know I know her from something—and only have limited time and energy to do all that with! That’s a lot of people. I could not lift that many people. If I wandered into a Starbucks with twelve people in line ahead of me, I’d think “Eh… I’ll just skip it.” But if everyone in that line turned to stare at me, and then Ashton Kutcher popped out from behind the Nespresso display and declared, “Elijah B. Wilder, you just got PUNKED! This entire Starbucks is filled with people who bought and read your book!” and then every person pulled out a copy of my book—I’d think, wow! That’s a lot of people who bought and read my book! Because it is a lot of people. And a lot of lost keys!
And if those people had all actually finished it? And liked it?
I’d swoon into a pre-caffeinated blob of clean-up-on-aisle-author.
But algorithms don’t know that. And a 4.6 star Amazon rating doesn’t show that.
There are writers out there who get so many reviews from so many “clicks” that they could probably never hope to read them all (I guess?). But I’m never not going to read every review that comes my way. Because I (1) have the self-esteem of a mummified grapefruit, (2) I run entirely on validation, caffeine, protein shakes, and Triscuits; and (3) I also have way too much trouble getting back to sleep after waking up at 1 AM because my dog was panting so hard the bed started shaking.
Of course, I’m going to read all my reviews.
The dream, naturally, is to be able look back at this and think “How naive I was to think I’d be able to read alllllll these reviews because there’s sOoOOOoo mAnY.” But um… I won’t hold my breath.
Sure wish my dog would hold hers, though. The sheer scale of panting is more than a little concerning.
Read In Peace,
Elijah