WRITING MY IRAN MEMOIR

IRAN IN RETROSPECT
A Broad Abroad in Iran:
One Strappy-Sandaled Foot Ahead of the Mullahs
(during the revolution)

Hooray! Since my last post, A Broad Abroad in Thailand has received some great awards: “First Place" in the National Indie Book Awards 2008 for Memoir, and also placed as a “Finalist” in the Humor category. Abroad also won “Silver” in Foreword Magazine's Book of the Year Awards in the Humor category, presented to me at the BookExpo America in L.A. That's pretty exciting for a first time book.

It’s been some time since I’ve had a chance to get back here. The only changes I see in my marketing strategy are a few more grey hairs and wrinkles.

I now struggle to write my second memoir about living in Iran during the 70s. It won’t be as easy as my first memoir, A Broad Abroad in Thailand. The Thai people were gracious, happy, smiling and welcoming. In the70s, with the revolution already in motion (of course we expats had no clue), the Iranian people seemed unhappy, cross, maybe even pissed that westerners had invaded their land.

In retrospect, it’s easy to look back now and try to understand why they hated us, but at the time we just thought they weren’t happy campers and let it go at that. In our ignorance, we thought the Shah was just trying to bring his country up to the 20th Century, and not leave it lagging in the Old Testament era. Hiring expatriates from all over the world to help bring his country to a new global respect seemed like a generous undertaking. But, retrospection is a wondrous tool. We seem to want to look at casualties “after the fact” and then sort out the problems. But, at the time, we didn’t know there were problems.

What I did notice was the incongruity of it all!

The well-dressed driver of a Mercedes-Benz lays on his horn as he is surrounded by a herd of sheep. They slowly meander across the potholed dirt road, brushing against the front, sides and back of his gleaming car with their filthy, wet coats, while he screams obscenities at the sheep, the herder and at his illiterate countrymen that would allow this to happen.

A chador-clad woman stands in the street. As she waves her arm and tries to hail a taxi, her chador rides up revealing a bare arm dripping with a fortune in pure gold bangles, while an ancient, blind woman squats at her feet, begging for money or scraps of food.

A towering mosque, laden with gold and jade, stands in tribute to the incredible architecture of centuries past, while beggars with limbs missing seek shelter in the shade provided by its magnificent minarets.

In the capital city of Tehran, a theater marquee stands twelve feet high and pictures a female strapped to a pillar; she is wearing black fishnet stockings, garter belt, stiletto heels, and black bra with cleavage pouring forth. Lined up on the sidewalks and spilling over into the dirty streets are throngs of men, salivating and waiting to enter. Walking by the theater and on both sides of the street are other figures; covered from head to toe in the traditional black chador, eyes, nose and mouth the only indication that they are women, yet having to hide every strand of hair and femininity to insure they do not cause a man to have “unholy thoughts.” Hellllooooooooooooo!

Okay, now I have to get busy and turn it into a 300-page book and sell it.

Agents, feel free to contact me!

BOOK PROMOTION 101 - From the Stakeout to the Kill (Or: Secrets from a Self-Promoting Slut)

Okay, here’s the deal. We have to promote ourselves! There’s only one person who knows the book and thinks it’s the Greatest Story Ever Told; and that person is the author. I have no shame when it comes to promoting, selling or getting in someone’s face (or dinner plate) to sell my book.

The first thing I did after my cover was designed was to design and make a bookmark. It was easy. All I had to do was set my margins on my word document to the size of a normal bookmark (2”x7”) and then start typing….In this laugh-out-loud memoir, Dodie Cross…yada, yada, yada. You’d a thought I had just been awarded the Pulitzer by the way I bragged. But, why not? Whose going to walk up to you and say: “Hey, I read your book, and it wasn’t a ‘Laugh out loud.’”

Next I called around and got some quotes on 500 bookmarks; some prices were higher than my mortgage payment, some companies took six weeks to deliver. Then I found Office Depot. They were fast, did the work in-house, and the bookmarks turned out lovely! Then I began my attack:

The Stakeout: Every time I left the house I made sure I had at least 50 bookmarks stuffed into my purse. The second I saw a straggler, a woman sitting alone, two or more women together, or husband and wife, I began reaching into my purse. “Hi,” I’d say, giving my best local author smile, “I’m a local author and this is a bookmark for you.” “Oh, thanks,” most would mutter as they haltingly accepted it, hoping I wasn’t a rabid cult member trying to lure them into my church.

The Assault: I can’t tell you how many times my cheapo little cards sold a book for me. In restaurants: I’d scope out the room looking for happy faces—crinkles around the eyes shows a propensity for laughing; women chattering over a glass of wine (I always approach drinkers, they’re happy people). I’ve left the restaurant with two people trailing me to my car for an on-the-spot purchase. I suspect it might have looked like some sort of a drug-buy, but hey, you’ve got to market at any cost!

* On airplanes: I walk the aisles looking for women reading. They’re easy prey. “Hi,” I say brightly as I check out the name of the book they’re reading. “You look like you’d enjoy this type of book,” as I insert a bookmark into their book. There’s really no way to avoid a sales pitch on a plane. Where are they gonna go to get away from you?
* At the post office: Lines of women, just waiting to get their minds off of the dreary duty of picking up “held” bills. I think they’re the easiest marks. They have no book with them; they are bored beyond endurance; and their eyes light up when I tell them that the back of my bookmark is “for women only.” Then I lurk just outside the door, knowing I’ve interested a few of them, and sure enough, I have captured at least one to three bored housewives longing for some excitement in their lives, and honey, I tell them, this book will do it. Once I ran out of bookmarks before the line of women ran out, and I actually had a lady look ticked off. “Where’s mine?” she asked.
* Doctor’s offices: Another sure-fire captive audience. They’re all reading; either books or magazines left over from the pterodactyl period or boring health leaflets. “Hi,” I say, giving them the “local author” bit, “I’ll bet this book might be more interesting than reading about the heartbreak of seborrhea and psoriasis.”


Coming in for the Kill—The Guarantee: “This is a woman’s book,” I tell them. “Very funny, fast reading, and if you don’t laugh out loud I’ll refund your money.” “Oh!” some would reply, suddenly interested. “Well, gee. Okay. Um, where can I get it?” they’d ask while turning the card over and reading the hilarious synopsis I devised to trap such hold-outs. “Well, if you’re interested in saving some money in shipping and handling costs, I have copies in my car for just your type of smart shopper. Plus, I can autograph it for you if you purchase it right now.” I do believe I have sold more from my trunk than from my website.

I guess what I’m trying to say with all this airy persiflage is: don’t be a bunch of nattering nabobs of negativism. Get out and be a self-promoting slut!

Shakespeare's "To be or not to be" had everything to do with marketing and distributing!

I've just had a eureka-moment! You can write the best book in the world, but if you don't put some blood, sweat and tears behind it, it will sit quietly in the dark recesses of someone's storage area; all the while you're paying $125.00 a month to keep it there, nice and snuggly and dusty.

Ah, marketing and distribution! I read this truism somewhere: You've written a book. You think your work is done! HA! Now you have to market and distribute the book. Good luck! Your work has just begun.

As a self-published author, you're on your own, kiddo! No one there to take your hand, lead you in the right direction, warn you of the pitfalls and pratfalls. Nope, just you and your little fingers on the keyboard, searching for distributors to answer your queries: "Oh! Absolutely! Mail the copy of your book to me at once. We have been looking for a book of your caliber. You should make millions from this..."

But alas, all you find are companies that say: "How many books have you written?"
"Ahh, just this one, but I have another in the making."
"What are your marketing strategies?"
"Ahh, well, ah, I've hired a publicist, but they're so expensive I could only get them for six weeks."
"Hmmm. Well, we really only take on TRIED AND TRUE authors, so maybe you need to find another company."
"Well, can you recommend any?"
"No. Good day."

So, you slam down the phone, blow your nose, wipe your eyes then look for the next phone number. You find a couple, but when you hear their cost to "distribute" your book, you realize it could cost you more money then the publicist, and twice the cost of your printing.

Do these distributors have it in with the Big-4 printing companies? It's scary how they seem to all hang together; Hey, let's not let the little guy in. If he thinks he can do it without us, then let him try. We'll railroad him at every turn.

Then you find a list of distributors who say they'll take on a one-book publisher. But, hey, wait a minute. They require the deed to your house and cars before signing you on.

Okay, if any nice-guy distributors are out there reading this, HELP! I need you. Give a kid a break. When I'm wealthy and at the top of the New York Times Best Sellers List I'll tell the world how you gave me my first real break in the distribution world.

THE STORY OF DAVID (the self-publisher) AND GOLIATH, (the giant publishers)

11/17/07: Okay, I admit it. I probably should have waited to find an agent, then a publisher, then my life would have been so much easier. But, I'm too old for that. I can't wait for two years for the agent to find the right publisher, then the publisher to make me wait two years, and then decide, "Who is this person?" and dump the manuscript. I don't even buy green bananas anymore.

But I did it on my own. I put out a magnificent book that I'm proud of, looks amazing and reads the same. From the reviews I've received, I feel like Oprah should be pounding on my door any minute. "Please, my friend, let me put this out to my Book Club. You're wonderful, incredible...."yada, yada, yada.

But, without a publisher, you have no distributor. Without a distributor, can't get into the book stores. There may be people in down-and-out Arkansas that would love my book, but would never hear about it. So, what do I do. I can't afford to go on a cross-country trek, stopping at all the independent book stores along the way. I'm in my middle-earlies and too tired to make that trip. I can't even afford to pay my two publicists, but I'm doing it. Giving up food and shelter would probably be better, but for now I'll just be an optimist and see what happens.

Tomorrow will probably be a better day, so I'll sign off and hopefully a distributor will be at my door with the newspaper. So, if anyone has any ideas, I'd love to hear them. Leave me a comment below this posting.