I then began to investigate alternatives to publishers. At that time, e-books were still nonexistent, but vanity or self-publishing had a long, storied history. After another year researching self-publishing, I published I Hated Heaven in 1998. I approached marketing the same way I approach writing: Take no prisoners. In just six months, I had sold out my first printing of 5000, and went into the second printing.  When it came time for my next book, my memoir about my father called Dad Was A Carpenter, I never even considered letting anyone else publish it-- I wasn't about to get rejected again. And, boy, am I glad I'm pig-headed, for it was Dad Was a Carpenter which won the Grand Prize in the 1999 National Self-Published Book Awards. And then, everything changed.

Most self-published authors sell just a few hundred books, but you sold 20,000 of Dad Was a Carpenter.  How?  How much time and effort did you put into marketing? 

My rule of thumb has always been to spend the same amount of time marketing a book as you spent writing, editing, formatting, and printing it. That means every day there's something to do to promote it. Creativity is key here, and fortunately, there are now a number of books on the market, like John Kremer's 1001 Ways to Market Your Books, that will prompt your own creative ideas. But ideas alone don't do it. I got to know every retailer in three states--I'm being serious here--and every time I went out the door I stopped at a bookstore even if it was just for five minutes to say hello to the staff and sign a copy or two for the employee break room. I gave away hundreds of copies. I am always amazed at how much beginning authors resist giving away books. The best advertising you ever did was when you gave your book to an avid reader, because that person, if they like it, will tell others. That's how we readers are: We like to share the nuggets we mine out of the slag pile.

Soon I found my books on the "employee's favorites" shelf, and that, combined with my spending most Friday nights and Saturdays doing book signings, resulted in incremental sales that added up. The best part about doing book signings is not the book sales, which rarely went over 15 or 20 books. No, the best part was getting a feel, not only for the bookstore itself, but for its patrons, my audience. I learned that I indeed have a "target reader" that I never knew existed. Within a short time, I was able to identify this kind of reader, practically by sight. I'd tried my "come on" line a hundred times and refined it, until I was able to spark their curiosity in a very subtle and unobtrusive way. What authors must remember when selling their book is that the customer is shopping, so he or she wants to buy. Your job is not to convince them to buy-- they're already shopping-- but to help them see that your book is the book they're looking for but don't know it yet.

This book won the grand prize in the Writer's Digest Self-Published Book Awards, which set off an amazing chain reaction.  Tell me what happened when the magazine issue announcing your win hit the stands.

Within 24 hours of the magazine coming out, dozens of publishers, agents, and editors called me, people who just 48 hours earlier wouldn't have even opened an envelope with my return address on it or taken a phone call from me. It was wonderful but sobering as well. I decided that they were no more right, telling me my book was the greatest book they'd ever written (indeed, how many had actually read it in that short period of time?) than they were right when they wouldn't give me the time of day. I knew I was flavor of the moment and that I had to act fast before the spell wore off. I checked them out (the Internet is a marvelous tool), and narrowed the field to two or three that seemed familiar with the inspirational memoir category.

What made you decide to sign with agent Joseph Durepos? 

Joe called me every day for five days. He had actually read the book, and when he talked about it, his passion and understanding for the book and what I was attempting to do with it were palpable. You can't fake that; either they know and get it or they don't. Joe did. He specialized in my kind of book, and had a similar life to mine. We were about the same age. We got along very well from the first conversation and I felt comfortable with him. But there were very, very high profile agents who also were courting me, and I had to consider whether I wanted someone who understood my work and was passionate about it, or someone who could make me a deal for more money. I'm glad to say I chose the former. I have never regretted my decision. (Besides, Joe got me plenty of dough!)

Authors are often told that they need New York agents, but Joseph is from Chicago.  Did that ever bother you? 

No. As I said, and I believe it now more than ever: I would rather be represented by someone who understands my work and is excited about it than be one of a dozen fungible clients of a big agency. Writing is an extremely personal and emotional experience-- and if you don't think writers need their agents to be emotionally involved, just read the acknowledgement sections of a couple of books. You'll see.  

So, Joe gave it to an editor at HarperSanFrancisco, and within 12 hours, you had a six-figure offer.  Tell me how that felt. 

This question reminds me of the scene in Arthur where the florist says to Dudley Moore, "So you're the one with all the money? Tell me, how does it feel to be so rich?" Arthur smiles and says, "It feels great." In my case, what felt even better than the money was the prospect that my little book about my unsung hero dad was going to be read by a much broader audience than I alone could reach. I wrote the book as an homage to my father, a member of the Greatest Generation, and I never thought it would strike the chord it did in so many people, so I was literally knocked out when it won the big award from Writers Digest. It proved to me that the best books are those that are written from the heart, not for money, but for love. Sounds corny, but it's true. 

Now you have a significant three-book deal with HarperSanFrancisco.  Tell me about the differences between being self-published and working with the big boys.  Do you miss the editorial control?  Are you happy to have someone sharing the marketing responsibilities? 

I do miss the hands on approach to self-publishing. I wore all the hats and was a committee of one. Now I have to tread lightly so as not to step on the toes of capable people who believe there is a better way than mine. Joe Durepos warned me that my strong, aggressive personality might be a liability if I wasn't careful. I have been careful, but it's been hard, because they have done things I wouldn't have. I have very specific ideas about design and promotion that have clashed with the publisher's. This isn't to say we argue, but we do discuss these things passionately. It is a trade off: A publisher has their way of doing things; I have mine. They have sold hundreds of books and their way of making a book is almost set in stone. I, on the other hand, have been a "guerilla marketer" and took wild chances. I spent an inordinate amount of time on my title, simply because  I had no other titles to worry about. 

The tension is as simple as the old saw: "Is it better to be a big fish in a small pond or a small fish in a big pond?" And I guess the answer is, "How big do you intend to grow?" because if you have the long view, no matter what decisions others make about your books, you are a writer and you will be published, perhaps by your current house, perhaps by another. But you will continue to write. 

Joe said, "When they give you the money, they've earned the right to make the decisions about marketing your book." That's true, and my publisher listens to my concerns, for which I am grateful (not all publishers are so amenable), but they still make the final decision, which I sometimes disagree with. I am happy to have help on the marketing end. For example, I never got a review in Publishers Weekly until I was signed with HarperCollins. That simple event made my book a national book. And no amount of guerilla marketing tactics could change that. So, it's a trade off: power for control. I need more Zen in my life anyway.

What do they do for you in terms of publicity? 

I don't know how this translates to other publishers, but my publisher, barring a special edict from "on high," has a specific dollar amount they spend on publicity per book printed. If those early dollars (and there aren't many of them, frankly) result in good sales (where a good portion of the first printing sells), then they will throw more money at the book. This is true, I'm told, for those of us who are not in the top 5%. of authors. In fact, in very graphic terms, a book is a spit wad. The writer creates the wettest, gooiest spit wad they can and then the publisher uses their powerful arm to hurl it against the chalkboard. If it sticks, they'll throw more money at it. If it doesn't, they'll assume you failed to make a sufficiently sticky spit wad. And you only get one chance, for there are lines and lines of authors handing the publishers a new, improved, and ever juicier spit wad for them to chuck. Nice image, huh?

Yeah, thanks.  While I try to purge my brain of that thought, how personally affected are you by reviews and reader comments? 

I only got one bad review for Dad Was a Carpenter and it was from the local paper. I called the reviewer and asked him why he didn't like the book. In the course of our conversation, it became clear to me that the reviewer had unresolved issues with his own father and was hostile to the notion of a "great" father as I had talked about in my book. It confirmed to me that reviewers bring their own personalities to the party and that what they say about your work is only half about the work itself--the other half (at least) is about themselves. 

Since I can't be responsible for their half, I discount it and rely upon my fifty percent, which was the best I could do, so what do I have to be ashamed of? I did my  best; I put it out there. If they don't like it, fine. I didn't write it for them, anyway. I wrote it for me and the people like me who will respond to the title of my book. I don't expect many people whose fathers were terrible people to read my book. Fortunately, that number is quite small. The rest of us had pretty good dads, and we're proud of them. 

Tell me about your work space and writing habits. 

I am what people these days like to call "anal retentive," which is really just a jealously dismissive way of referring to someone who is organized. The carpet doesn't need to be vacuumed and the plants might be dying, but my little corner of my office where I work at the computer must be organized. The dictionary, thesaurus, my files and research materials must be readily available. I am always dismayed when people comment derisively on those of us who don't have to hunt for our car keys? What? Do they like wasting a half hour looking for their keys, when they should be hanging on the hook by the garage door, like mine are? 

Someone said, "Goals are dreams with deadlines." I agree, so I set rigid times where I will sit at the computer and stare at the screen, even if nothing is coming. I don't believe in writer's block; I believe writer's block is a function of inadequate research. Once you've done your homework, believe me, you'll have plenty to write about. The trick is in sorting through the interesting yet inapplicable stuff and culling the story from the details. To do this I tell my stories to family and friends and watch for glazed eyes. If they're bored, the reader will be, too. 

Plus, by telling the story, I get a stronger feel for the plot than I do when writing the book because writing a scene is a world in itself, with a beginning, middle, and end, and though it might be a wonderful scene, it might be extraneous to the plot of the larger story. So I tell that story, leaving out the nice, fun details that will make it into the finished book, and just watch the listener's reaction. It's that simple. And I don't start to write until the characters are leaning over my shoulder, shouting, "Get on with it!"  Then I know it's time and usually, a novel length book of about 300 pages comes together in about six weeks, working four hours a day, five days a week.

How does your family feel about your memoir?  Were you ever concerned about being "too personal?"