What’s the dumbest thing a writer can do?

The question, it is rhetorical.

The single dumbest thing any writer can do, ever, is piss off a bookseller.

Booksellers are the people who put your books in the hands of your readers. We are the people who make books word-of-mouth hits, who ensure someone with a strong back-list gets noticed by book clubs, who will recommend one writer over another based not only on the quality of their work but also on any interaction we may have had with them. The nice, friendly author who is ever-patient with their readers (especially the oddballs), who goes the extra mile, will always pop to the forefront when someone’s looking for a recommendation. Even if the bookseller isn’t a fan of their work, if they like the author, they will push them.

In contrast, the grouchy, precious or otherwise demanding author will lose out. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know that if there’s one thing this bookseller can’t take it’s the “speshul snowflake” school of writers. The precious, fragile, “special” ones with skin as thick as onion-skin paper, who take even the vaguest criticism of their work as a slight upon their very soul.

Alain de Botton hit headlines in the literary press of late, for being one such special snowflake, wishing cancer on a blogger who had the temerity to give one of his books a bad review, claiming that the blogger had “ruined the chances” for his book in the U.S. market. The blogger did no such thing, merely wrote an honest review. The chances for the book world-wide were dashed by the sending of one stupid, nasty email by an author who couldn’t take someone not liking his book. Booksellers the world over read his screed with jaws agape and collectively dismissed de Botton as a nasty, insecure little plonker who would get no sales help from them. Yes, collectively. Bookselling is a community, a small, incestuous group of people who love books so much that to spend all day with them is a vocation. The money is never good, the rewards come from talking to happy readers, flushed with the joy of a new discovery, and sharing recommendations with them. There’s not a lot in the world more fulfilling that matching a reader with a book that is a perfect fit for them, and having them come back to you to tell you so. That’s what keeps up going in these dark days of central buying, plummeting sales and blandness at every turn. That and a camaraderie that extends beyond whichever store chain you work for and out into the world at large. Booksellers talk to one another, we share books we’ve discovered, authors we like, tales from the world of publishing… and should an author fall afoul of one bookseller the word spreads like wildfire.

This is especially true if the transgressing author has no leg to stand on. That’s when we bring out the kindling to help the fire along.

Exhibit A in this case shall be a piece written by a bookseller who works for the same chain I do. It’s a thoughtful examination of the damage centralised buying is doing to the book trade, and a refutation of all the arguments our head office uses to justify it. Read it here and then come back to me. It’ll only take a minute and should prove most educational. For those of you without the patience to read the entire piece I shall quote the bone of contention in full:

“And the ‘flavour of the month’ offering which is probably a chic-lit title that the publisher was offering at a good discount simply will not do no matter how good your sales pitch is. (Memo to Head Office: if a customer wants a book along the lines of Anne Enright, staff are not going to be able to fob them off with Amanda Brunker).”

Note here for those not in the trade: any book that is “Book of the Month” or part of a 50% off or Three for Two promotion is being sold to us, the booksellers, at a hefty discount, allowing us to sell the book at less than the cover price and still make a profit on it. Simple economics.

The quotation above is the only mention that is made of Amanda Brunker, and to be fair, all it is doing is pointing out that someone who likes to read Anne Enright (literature, Man Booker prize-winner) is not going to be all that interested (in all likelihood) in reading chick-lit. Fair enough, Brunker and Enright would not be seen as any bookseller as being like for like. Just a fact of life.

But “speshul snowflakes” as a type, revolt against facts of life. They take umbrage where there is none to be had. They may even lash out at the hand that feeds them if they are feeling particularly “hurt” or are pissed off about something else, like a car key that doesn’t work. Sound far-fetched? Ladies and gentlemen of the imaginary blogosphere jury, allow me to present Exhibit B:

(Clicky here for a bigger version of the screenie.)
Seriously, what the frak?

Let’s look at some of my favourite parts (since the jpg is wickle, and out of respect for peoples’ eyesight):
“slandering people as trash, so I was just interested if you had bothered to read my work before dismissing it as crap…” Um, crap and trash? Not mentioned anywhere but here. If the author secretly (deep in her bruised and speshul soul) thinks her work may really be crap and/or trash she’s not doing a very good job of hiding it. She’s the only one using the words, soooo…..

“For your information my book was NOT sold at a discount, but was given these promotions because they felt I was going to be a hit, which I am. “
Uh, hello not understanding how bookselling works. And I think if you insert a “s” before “hit” you may be edging closer to the truth…

“Coming from a creative family (my dad was a painter among other things, my mum writes poetry and my sister Linda Brunker is a highly regarded sculptor) I hate when I come in contact with narrow-minded snobs who just seem to be allergic to the word SUCCESS.”
Oooh, the “I’m genetically talented” defense. Niiiice. I don’t know of any bookseller who is allergic to the word success since books doing well are our bread and butter, but some of us may be slightly averse to excessive and unprovoked use of caps lock. It’s a stylistic thing.

“but don’t insult yourself (nor me) by not being well-informed.”
That should be “or me”. I wouldn’t like to be her editor. Also, who exactly is ill-informed here, the writer who doesn’t get how publishing works and thinks they should be bracketed with Man Booker prize-winners, or the bookseller who is a veteran of the book-selling industry and well aware of the tastes of the reading public? Having had the pleasure of working alongside that bookseller while she worked at our branch, and knowing she is neither a book-snob nor a publishing know-nothing, I know the answer to that one (clue: not the former).

“Anne Enright has had huge success of her own, don’t begrudge me mine.”
These are different types of successes. I don’t feel it should be necessary to elucidate further since there was no success begrudged anywhere in the original post. Speaking for myself, there will be begrudging, as of now. And not of Anne Enright, as she is a total sweetheart, as well as being a damned fine writer.

And finally, we have the gravy:
“I definitely feel better after venting my anger at your stuck-up ways… I was after all grounded as the electronic key to my car didn’t work this morning, but now my frustrations are all gone… so thank you “
A combination of TMI of the most banal sort, and an acknowledgment that the poor blameless blogging bookseller is being used as a punch-bag to allow the author to vent car-related spleen.

Note to authors: if you are pissed off at your car, stay pissed off at your car, and direct all your ire at your car. Or your publisher for not furnishing you with a driver. Attacking a blogger who is also a bookseller for what was a throw-away comment is akin to committing career hara-kiri.

A coda: the sad thing about all this was that prior to the (now infamous) email, La Brunker was garnering quite a bit of respect and goodwill among the bookselling community for the effort she was putting in to promoting her book. All that hard work so easily undone….

Also, after what happened to de Botton, could any writer these days be so oblivious to the possible fall-out from sending a bile-filled email to anyone? Apparently they can be.