Mergers, Acquisitions and Me

I have to admit that during my 25 years as an editor and publisher, I never learned much about the nuts and bolts of publicity. Then I left publishing to become an author. In 2004, when Gotham published my first book, Humboldt’s Cosmos, I got a taste of green rooms and production studios. But exactly how these bookings came about remained as much a mystery as ever. That all changed when the company that was publishing my second book was sold—just as my book went on sale.

Earlier this year, as Counterpoint was preparing to publish my second book, High Cotton, about a year in the life of a Mississippi Delta farmer, I was thrilled and flattered when my publicist said he was planning an author tour. By June, he’d set up readings in five Southern cities.

That same month, Perseus announced its sale of Counterpoint to Winton, Shoemaker LLC. I’d been involved in several such transactions during my publishing career, and while I’d seen the disruption they could cause, I understood that such changes were an unavoidable part of business.

Then I learned that in the wake of the sale, my publicist had decided to leave the company—a week before my tour was to begin. Although there had been some nibbles, no media had been finalized in the tour cities, and it was clear that extensive follow-up was needed. But the new publicist wouldn’t start until August 1—a week after my tour would end.

I wondered aloud to my agent whether the tour would have to be canceled. But her first job in publishing had been in publicity. “We’ll just do the follow-up ourselves,” she said in her best lemons-to-lemonade tone. “It’ll be fun!”

The outgoing publicist e-mailed us the list of producers and reporters who’d received copies of the book, and his supervisor agreed to pass on leads as they came in. With the blessing of the new Counterpoint management team, we got to work.

That week I happened to be helping out with the book workshop at the Columbia Publishing Course. Shamelessly, I picked the brains of the other faculty, and even snared a particularly well done press kit prepared by some of the students, to see what tips I could glean.

Fortunately, by then the book had begun to receive some strong early reviews. Over the next week, we e-mailed press releases to 113 newspapers in Mississippi. We e-mailed scores of producers and reporters from the Counterpoint list, and if they didn’t respond, we called them.

I found it unnerving to pitch my own book over the phone. But it was also exhilarating and addictive, and each time I placed a call my heart would race as though I were rolling craps in Atlantic City. I caught myself talking at twice my normal speed, even in my conferences with students.

Like most gamblers, we got more snake eyes than lucky sevens. But there were some payoffs. A weekly newspaper in Oxford, Miss., devoted its entire cover to the book. So what if they misspelled my name in 24-point type? A statewide talk-radio station did a half-hour live interview. So what if the interviewer said, “This is a great book, Gerry. I loved it. It’s nonfiction, right?”

But our most exciting score came when the producer of American Public Media’s radio show The Story invited not only me but my subject, farmer Zack Killebrew, to tape an hourlong piece broadcast to 60 cities via NPR. No jackpot winner ever whooped louder than I did when that one was confirmed.

Looking back, I wouldn’t trade my under-the-gun publicity experience for anything. It was a real pleasure to see, in this age of multilevel media platforms, that dedicated booksellers and engaged reporters and producers can still connect directly with authors to help get a book into the hands of readers. And it’s nice to know that if this writing thing doesn’t work out, I have something to fall back on.