Noah Baird’s first blog entry. Star Date: I don’t know how star dates work. It’s August 8th here on Earth.
I don’t want to write a blog. I want to write a book. Even the word sounds unappealing: blog. Say it out loud. Boring, right? “Buhlog”. Sounds like you’re trying to get a spider web out of your mouth. I understand the reason I should blog is to connect with a fan-base, get my name out, promote the book, etc. Blogging just seems counterintuitive to me. Any jerk-off with a keyboard can blog. An author writes books. I’m not implying I’m better than bloggers, or that all bloggers are crap, but there are plenty out there digitally converting the mundane into cyber flotsam.
My mental picture of what writers do is probably skewed. I want to do what Hemingway did: drink, fish, write. Maybe run with the bulls in Pamplona. Papa did not blog (I know there weren’t blogs then; just go with me on this). When my publisher told me I needed to start blogging, I told him I wanted to pull a Hemingway: drink, fish, write. We could negotiate on the fishing, but I was going to remain firm about the drinking and writing. Since I’m sitting here writing this blog (and drinking), we can see who won that little argument.
My other issue with blogging is I don’t know how or what to blog about. What’s the theme? Do I write about my life? My life as a writer? I’m not a good enough writer to think I could teach you anything about writing. Someone suggested I blog as Bigfoot; like a Bigfoot celebrity diary. I have to tell you: after writing a book with Bigfoot in it, I’m fucking sick of Bigfoot.
I still don’t know what the general theme of this blog should be. So, for this entry, I’m going to tell you the things I’ve learned since becoming a writer.
Bookstores don’t have an open door policy for book signings. When my book was released, I checked my local booksellers to ensure they had the book in their inventory. Then I called to offer my availability to sign books in the store. Seems logical, right? Wrong. Some bookstores can be a pain-in-the-ass about letting new writers come in for signings. They either wanted to evaluate the book to see if it’s suitable for a signing, or it was a flat “No” because new writers don’t have a large fan base.
I learned local papers don’t review books. There’s one person in a cabin in Montana who reads books and posts reviews on the internet. Newspapers just link to those reviews.
I should’ve practiced my signature. Sharpies make crappy signatures permanent. To compensate for my poor penmanship (or should it be ‘penpersonship’ in this politically-correct America), I doodle dog turds and monkey faces. It was either that or pretend I have palsy.
If you call the newspaper in Ithaca, NY and mention ‘Bigfoot’ and ‘marijuana’ in the same sentence, you will have a long conversation with everyone in the newsroom about Bigfoot and marijuana. I couldn’t persuade them to review my book, but I did get a great brownie recipe.
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