My Book Tour from Hell

A book tour? It seemed like such a good idea. Of course, it would be lots of work. Since I’m an indie novelist, I’d have to make all the arrangements. And pay all the bills. But what the heck, why not? You only publish your debut novel once, right? So, go for it!

“It’s all in the planning” the numerous downloaded “How to Organize a Book Tour” articles proclaimed. So, I ORGANIZED.

Prepare your materials: sell sheet (check), bookmarks (check), posters (check), FAQ sheet (check), short (fifteen minutes) and longer (45 minutes) book talks (check), lists of potential venues—bookstores, libraries, museums (check), press release and press-kit (check), announcements for social media (check), potential collaborators/helpers/friends with a sofa bed and a sympathetic nature (check).

Then, set up your tour.

I was already planning to attend the Writer’s Digest Conference in New York in August 2017, so I decided to drive to Lenox, MA after the conference and spend some time in the Lenox area, the setting for part of my story. I made a reservation at the Wagon Wheel Inn (no sympathetic friends in the area) and started looking for venues. There appeared to be lots of options—bookstores, historical society, library, music center. But they all said “No.” Apparently, Lenox is a very hard place to infiltrate for an indie author from Florida. Even for one who had spent lots of time in Lenox doing research for a book. Scrub Lenox and cancel that reservation.

On to California!

I was due back from my New York trip on August 21, so I made a reservation (for August 28 on Delta 1883 from Orlando to San Francisco). After reserving a rental car, I contacted sympathetic friends and arranged to stay three nights in San Francisco with an old and dear friend. After that, I would pick up an adventurous Gainesville friend who wanted to “help me out” with the tour during the Sacramento phase where we would stay September 1-7 at the Doubletree Suites and split the cost. I shipped three boxes of books (that I had purchased from my indie publisher) to my San Francisco friend so I would have plenty of books to sell. After the stay in Sacramento, I planned to fly to Los Angeles, stay with another good friend and attend the Story Expo where I arranged for participation in several events. I would fly back from LA to Florida on September 12. Sounds like a reasonable itinerary, right?

Except for Hurricane Irma.

Oh, and the fires.

San Francisco can have hot days now and then. You might expect a few days in the 80s when everyone would complain about “the heat” and head for Golden Gate Park. But when I arrived in San Francisco August 28, it was 90 degrees. The next day, it set a record at 106. And there were fires burning in the Oakland hills. The smoke was pretty thick and since no one in the City has air conditioning (why would they?), my gracious hostess had to open all the windows to let in the “fresh” air that was thick with smoke. Already getting hoarse from the soot, I nevertheless had a successful reading at the renowned Bird and Beckett Books in North Beach and another good venue the next day in Oakland. I even sold some books.

Then it was on to Sacramento. The hotel was nice. My adventurous friend was great company. And I had four fine events at a bookstore, two libraries, and a nature park. But I was getting sicker by the minute. And my friend left to get home to Florida.

And, there was the weather news that by September 5 was forecasting that Irma was a Category 5 hurricane and heading straight for Florida. Oh-oh.

I-R-M-A spelled “trouble.” “Are you still going to LA?” my husband asked when I telephoned him on Sept 6. I stared at the weather channel’s predicted storm track, coughed, and said, “Uh-uh.” Then I called Delta to change my reservations.

Only, all the Delta flights were flying OUT of Florida, not in. “But I HAVE to get to Florida,” I insisted. “My husband’s there. Alone. And the power will be out. I need to get HOME!” They finally got me on a flight to Detroit with a connecting flight to Orlando. I got myself to the airport and got to Detroit on time. That was good because I had only a half hour before that Florida-bound flight was scheduled to leave. But I was at Gate 78 and the Florida flight was leaving from Gate 1. So, dragging my bags, I started for Gate 1. Then the heel of my shoe fell off. So, now I’m dragging my bags and carrying my shoe. But I’m almost to Gate 1, and I have 5 minutes to spare.

“I’m sorry,” the Delta lady at the gate said. “The door’s already closed, so we can’t let you on the plane.”

“But I HAVE to get on the plane! I have to get home! There’s a HURRICANE coming!!”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ll have to make other arrangements.”

I threw my heelless shoe at the window. “Do you want me to call security?” she said.

“I don’t care who the &*$# you call!”

In the end I was able to get a hotel room and a ticket on an 8 a.m. flight,

And I got back to Florida on September 8 just as Irma was slamming Cuba with 160 mph winds. The next day, the storm arrived in Florida. And the power went out.

But my book is still on consignment at Bird and Beckett Books.