Because of our staff vacation schedule, I recently found myself working alone this past Saturday. Generally, working solo for an eight-hour shift is not something I look forward to, but I found the day surprisingly energizing.

Saturday, while a busy day customer-wise, is generally not fraught with massive UPS shipments and a phone that rings off the hook, so it’s easier to really just be there to provide customer service. It’s easy with staff as capable as ours, to not work on the floor as often as maybe I should. Working alone, on a crazy-busy day, forced me to help everyone who walked in the store.

I had no one to punt to when the six-year-old came in wanting recommendations for the books about the Revolutionary War. I worked with that little boy until we came up with the just the right book that had him skipping to his father in historical glee. Several people needed presents wrapped, so I was wrapping and ringing folks up at the same time. It felt a lot like Christmas there was so much going on. This kind of busy-ness makes a store feel vital.

Yes, I own the store and go in there every day, but I often forget to *see* the store. There is something about being responsible for the store for the whole day that makes me see it as a customer would. Is there a section that needs some refreshing? For some reason, when I work with staff, the messes just get tidied up; our staff is good and very attuned to what needs to happen. When I am alone, I know the only one who will clean up after the family of six that left a trail of multi-colored goldfish crackers throughout the picture section, is me.  
While I didn’t have time to make an order, I did make notes on what sections look really bare, and what sections need to have returns pulled. And while Saturday was great fun, I was thrilled to have Sandy work with me on Sunday so I could get some of the returns done. And I didn’t have any crackers to clean up.

When Gareth and I decided to use poems for each of the readings in our wedding ceremony, we struggled, at first, to find ones we liked that were well-suited to the occasion but not overused. After I spent a lot of time collecting possible contenders from a range of sources, though, we found ourselves in the opposite position: there were now too many poems we wanted to include in some fashion. 

So, I took both the poems we used in our ceremony AND some that didn’t make the read-aloud cut, and I incorporated them all into the decorations for our reception hall. How? See the poetry sign in the terrible) photo above? In a former life it was an outdated easel-back promotional sign for (you guessed it!) a book. Take a few promo signs, add some pretty papers + poetry, and voila! Beautiful, CHEAP decorations to augment your guest book table, your gift table, the bar, the mantle over the fireplace, and so on. The bonus is that you’re providing your guests with some great reading material too.

Pasted below are the poems that made their way into our ceremony and/or onto the newly recycled signs I created. Are there other poems you think would’ve make good companions to these? Poems you think are especially well-suited to weddings? If so, please share! Poetry lovers and future brides might all make fruitful use of your suggestions.

*************************

The Master Speed
by Robert Frost

No speed of wind or water rushing by
But you have speed far greater. You can climb
Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,
And back through history up the stream of time.
And you were given this swiftness, not for haste,
Nor chiefly that you may go where you will,
But in the rush of everything to waste,
That you may have the power of standing still —
Off any still or moving thing you say.
Two such as you with such a master speed
Cannot be parted nor be swept away
From one another once you are agreed
That life is only life forevermore
Together wing to wing and oar to oar. 

*************************

Pathways
by Rainer Maria Rilke

Understand, I’ll slip quietly
away from the noisy crowd
when I see the pale
stars rising, blooming, over the oaks.

I’ll pursue solitary pathways
through the pale twilit meadows,
with only this one dream:
You come too. 

*************************

To My Valentine
by Ogden Nash

More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That’s how much I love you.

I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.

As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That’s how much you I love.

I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.

I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oathes,
That’s how you’re loved by me. 

*************************

At a Window
by Carl Sandburg

Give me hunger,
O you gods that sit and give
The world its orders.
Give me hunger, pain and want,
Shut me out with shame and failure
From your doors of gold and fame,
Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger!

But leave me a little love,
A voice to speak to me in the day end,
A hand to touch me in the dark room
Breaking the long loneliness.
In the dusk of day-shapes
Blurring the sunset,
One little wandering, western star
Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow.
Let me go to the window,
Watch there the day-shapes of dusk
And wait and know the coming
Of a little love. 

*************************

The Saint’s First Wife Said
by G. E. Patterson

I woke to your face not looking at me
but at the bird that settled on your wrist,
lured by food. Its trust, for once, was rewarded.
You offered the bird everything you had.

I remember. That is how it began
with us: You held out your hand; I took it. 

*************************

Superbly Situated
by Robert Hershon

you politely ask me not to die and i promise not to
right from the beginning—a relationship based on
good sense and thoughtfulness in little things

i would like to be loved for such simple attainments
as breathing regularly and not falling down too often
or because my eyes are brown or my father left-handed

and to be on the safe side i wouldn’t mind if somehow
i became entangled in your perception of admirable objects
so you might say to yourself: i have recently noticed

how superbly situated the empire state building is
how it looms up suddenly behind cemeteries and rivers
so far away you could touch it—therefore i love you

part of me fears that some moron is already plotting
to tear down the empire state building and replace it
with a block of staten island mother/daughter houses

just as part of me fears that if you love me for my cleanliness
i will grow filthy if you admire my elegant clothes
i’ll start wearing shirts with sailboats on them

but i have decided to become a public beach an opera house
a regularly scheduled flight—something that can’t help being
in the right place at the right time—come take your seat

we’ll raise the curtain fill the house start the engines
fly off into the sunrise, the spire of the empire state
the last sight on the horizon as the earth begins to curve 

*************************

Coming Home
by Mary Oliver

When we’re driving, in the dark,
on the long road
to Provincetown, which lies empty
for miles, when we’re weary,
when the buildings
and the scrub pines lose
their familiar look,
I imagine us rising
from the speeding car,
I imagine us seeing
everything from another place — the top
of one of the pale dunes
or the deep and nameless
fields of the sea —
and what we see is the world
that cannot cherish us
but which we cherish,
and what we see is our life
moving like that,
along the dark edges
of everything — the headlights
like lanterns
sweeping the blackness —
believing in a thousand
fragile and unprovable things,
looking out for sorrow,
slowing down for happiness,
making all the right turns
right down to the thumping
barriers to the sea,
the swirling waves,
the narrow streets, the houses,
the past, the future,
the doorway that belongs
to you and me. 

*************************

Litany
by Billy Collins

"You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine . . ."
Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of t
he
sun.
You are the white apron of the baker
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley,
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I am not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and—somehow—the wine. 

*************************

This Marriage
by Rumi

This marriage be wine with halvah, honey dissolving in milk.
This marriage be the leaves and fruit of a date tree.
This marriage be women laughing together for days on end.
This marriage, a sign for us to study.
This marriage, beauty.
This marriage, a moon in a light-blue sky.
This marriage, this silence fully mixed with spirit. 

*************************

Begin
by Brendan Kennelly

Begin again to the summoning birds
to the sight of light at the window,
begin to the roar of morning traffic
all along Pembroke Road.
Every beginning is a promise
born in light and dying in dark
determination and exaltation of springtime
flowering the way to work.
Begin to the pageant of queuing girls
the arrogant loneliness of swans in the canal
bridges linking the past and the future
old friends passing through with us still.
Begin to the loneliness that cannot end
since it perhaps is what makes us begin,
begin to wonder at unknown faces
at crying birds in the sudden rain
at branches stark in the willing sunlight
at seagulls foraging for bread
at couples sharing a sunny secret
alone together while making good.
Though we live in a world that dreams of ending
that always seems about to give in
something that will not acknowledge conclusion
insists that we forever begin. 

*************************

from The Gift
by Hafiz of Shiraz

Even after all this time
the sun never says
to the earth,
"You owe me."

Look what happens
with a love like that –
it lights the whole sky. 

*************************

All I Want to Say
by Linda Pastan

"A painter can say all he wants to with fruit or flowers or even clouds." -Edouard Manet

When I pass you this bowl
of Winesaps, do I want to say:
here are some rosy spheres
of love, or lust—emblems
of all the moments after Eden
when a pinch of the forbidden
was like spice on that first apple?
Or do I simply mean: I’m sorry,
I was busy today; fruit is all
there is for dessert.

And when you picked
a single bloom from the fading bush
outside our window,
were you saying that I am somehow
like a flower, or deserving of flowers?
Were you saying
anything flowery at all?
Or simply: here is the last rose
of November, please
put it in water.

As for clouds,
as for those white, voluptuous
abstractions floating overhead,
they are not camels or pillows
or even the snowy peaks
of half-imagined mountains.
They are the pure shapes
of silence, and they are
saying exactly
what I want to say. 

*************************

From Blossoms
by Li-Young Lee

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom. 

*************************

26
by Emily Dickinson

It’s all I have to bring today –
This, and my heart beside –
This, and my heart, and all the fields –
And all the meadows wide –
Be sure you count – should I forget
Some one the sum could tell –
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell. 

*************************

Invitation to Love
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Come when the nights are bright with stars
Or when the moon is mellow;
Come when the sun his golden bars
Drops on the hay-field yellow.
Come in the twilight soft and gray,
Come in the night or come in the day,
Come, O love, whene’er you may,
And you are welcome, welcome.

You are sweet, O Love, dear Love,
You are soft as the nesting dove.
Come to my heart and bring it rest
As the bird flies home to its welcome nest.

Come when my heart is full of grief
Or when my heart is merry;
Come with the falling of the leaf
Or with the redd’ning cherry.
Come when the year’s first blossom blows,
Come when the summer gleams and glows,
Come with the winter’s drifting snows,
And you are welcome, welcome. 

*************************

Love Song
by William Carlos Williams

Sweep the house clean,
hang fresh curtains
in the windows
put on a new dress
and come with me!
The elm is scattering
its little loaves
of sweet smells
from a white sky!

Who shall hear of us
in the time to come?
Let him say there was
a burst of fragrance
from black branches. 

*************************

by Izumi Shikibu

No different, really —
a summer firefly’s
visible burning
and this body,
transformed by love. 

*************************

Someday Some Morning Sometime
by Woody Guthrie

Someday some morning sometime, sometime
I’d like to hold your hand in mine
Someday some morning sometime

I’d like to tell you you’re pretty and fine
Your face will smile and your eyes will shine
Someday some morning sometime

I’ll build you a house all covered in vines
I’ll bring you a nickel, I’ll bring you a dime,
Someday some morning sometime

Five six seven and eight oh nine
I’ll take you down where the birds fly by
Someday some morning sometime 

*************************

Th
e Lanyard
by Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

I have been waiting to write this blog post since May, when we first saw the book, and now that it’s here, I finally can. Julie Andrews’ Collection of Poems, Songs, and Lullabies has finally hit the shelves, and it’s going to be a holiday gift-giving dynamo, certainly at The Flying Pig.

Every holiday season, we choose our go-to book, the must-have selection that parents and grandparents will love adding to the family library. (This year, we have three picks; the other two will be revealed in future posts.)

The book itself is lovely, with art by James McMullan, the noted children’s book illustrator (I Stink!) who also happens to have designed more than 75 posters for Lincoln Center. (I suppose this is what’s meant by an illustrious career. Ba-dum-bump.) The paintings are gentle and varied, and numerous; I believe Mr. McMullan said he surprised himself with this project, painting more watercolors than he thought possible in the time frame allotted for the project.

To choose the poems and songs, Ms. Andrews and daughter Emma Walton Hamilton sifted through hundreds of their own favorite verses. There are poems and songs from enduring favorite authors, accompanied by reminiscences of how and why they were chosen. Andrews herself (as well as a few family members) also wrote a number of the poems; she remains one of the scant handful of celebrity children’s book authors with a true gift for writing. “In our family, we write poems for each other as gifts,” Andrews says, and it’s partly this lifelong involvement with poetry and song that gives the book such a warm, personal feel.

During BEA, dozens of lucky booksellers had the pleasure of meeting all three creators and hearing them talk about the making of the book. The collaboration was clearly a happy one all the way around, and the mutual respect and affection between mother and daughter filled the room with joy.

Both Ms. Andrews and Ms. Hamilton are performers and brought their love of music and poetry, rhythm, cadence and theatre to the choices—the selections all make fantastic read-alouds. The hands-down highlight of the visit was hearing Ms. Andrews and Ms. Hamilton do just that: read poetry aloud to a room full of adults, all of whom became enchanted children for a few delicious moments. Their rendition of “The King’s Breakfast” by A.A. Milne was so funny and so brilliantly read aloud we would have stood up and cheered if we hadn’t been on our best behavior. Instead, we gave them a seated standing ovation.

Of course, we’re all familiar with Julie Andrews’ prodigious performance talent, but Ms. Hamilton was a revelation—hilarious and sharp and terrific with accents; she could give Jim Dale a run for his money in the audiobook world. Heads up, alert publishers.

Although it might be easy to lose one’s critical faculties in the wake of such a rare and special event, I’m happy to report that the book meets its promise in the cold clear light of a book buyer and poetry lover’s evaluation. The volume is organized into nine themes—All Things Bright and Beautiful, Accentuate the Positive, Growing Up, Bedtime Blessing, Talk to the Animals, Sea Fever, Laughing Song, Leisure, and The Wonderful World—and the selections are worthy of a family’s repeated readings over many years. Perhaps best of all, the book includes a CD of Ms. Andrews and/or Ms. Hamilton reading 21 poems on the accompanying CD. This is definitely one that booksellers can recommend without reservation.

Thank you, Hachette, not only for the lovely book, but for one of the shining experiences in my life as a bookseller: the chance to meet—no, not the actress Julie Andrews, but the author of my favorite book growing up, The Last of the Really Whangdoodles. I brought my sacred, battered, cocoa-speckled, jacketless copy (at right)—which has moved with me from Arizona to California to New York City to Vermont—and I managed to find a quiet moment to ask for her signature. With her characteristic graciousness, she agreed, holding the book and looking at it for a long moment, as though seeing an old friend after many years. As we chatted, she leafed through the pages (several with their corners torn off; I’m afraid I nibbled them at tense moments of the story) with an expression I couldn’t quite interpret, but seemed nostalgic and deeply thoughtful. Perhaps she was revisiting the early days of the book, and thinking about having written something so long ago that readers still treasure more than 30 years later. 

I suspect that with this new collection, she has done it again.

Okay, so Elizabeth and I, newly inspired from the annual Trade Show, were talking about future educational seminars, and the idea of co-op came up, as always. I thought we could have a session where we go in-depth about what each publisher requires to get co-op. I was thinking a downloadable spreadsheet that had all the publisher contact info requirements. Then Elizabeth said, "Wouldn’t it be nice if the publishers all had the same co-op form? Like the college common application?"

Wow! What a brilliant idea. What would happen, say, if all the major publishers made it easier for bookstores, large and small (especially smalll, who can’t afford to have someone on staff to just do co-op) to claim co-op? I know it’s easy to claim co-op from some publishers, and not so easy from others. I think a universal co-op form would be an outstanding idea, and it would get a lot of stores to order more backlist. It could be a win-win for all involved. I mean, if Harvard and Yale can share an application, why can’t the major publishing houses?

Now that I’m home from NEIBA’s annual trade show, I have a few thoughts and some photos.

First off, I am always amazed how much fun it is to spend time with all my bookselling colleagues from New England. I look forward to each panel as much for the friends as I do for the education. Ideas are born over sharing a meal and a drink, or two. I leave the show floor exhausted but full of energy for the selling season that’s coming up.

Hartford… well, what can I say? Not the most exciting city in New England. I loved the Convention Center, although the singular lack of real food options was shocking. In fact, my biggest quip with having the show in Hartford again is the food: there is none. Nowhere within walking distance can a sandwich be purchased; you can’t even get a hot dog on the trade show floor. There was no easy protein anywhere. I was shocked at this, and hungry much of Saturday. Thank goodness for the Houghton Mifflin Harcourt lunch or we’d all have starved and gotten headaches. The Marriott was lovely and couldn’t have been more convenient, and it wasn’t too expensive, which was nice.

Now that I’m not paying per minute for computer time, and I can upload the photos from the children’s dinner.

This is the lovely Vicky Uminowicz and Kenny Brechner (Man of NECBA and star of his own calendar) at the end of the dinner. Kenny is already wistful about the good old days of being NECBA Co-chair. Vicky looks downright thrilled to have moved on.

The same can’t be said of speaker Shannon Hale. Acutally, I’m not sure why she’s strangling herself: her speech was lovely.  

I am eager to hear about trade shows this weekend. If you’d like to share a highlight, please feel free to add a comment. I’m already looking forward to the Winter Institute so I can see all my friends again.

Okay, I must confess: I’m late for the breakfast with Mary Karr, Anita Shreve and Sarah Vowell. And I’m paying by the minute for computer time because I poured a beer in my laptop, and it’s not back from the tech guys. (Miraculously, it survived — well, the keys S, E, W, D didn’t make it, so I’m getting a new keyboard.) I will have a more complete post on Monday, with photos, but here’s a teaser about the show.

The New England Book Awards Luncheon was really good. It’s the first time I’ve been to one and it was quite moving. The rep of the year, Roger Saganario (who was my rep, back in the day), was gracious and thoughtful about indies; Sy Montgomery won for non-fiction and she said it’s funny that she’s often introduced in the same breath with pirahnas and scat. Andrew Clements, the children’s winner, said what scares him is "What’s next?" I don’t think he needs to worry, he’s written over 50 books, he seems to have a lot of imagination and a deep pool of ideas. Ward Just got the most laughs by saying, "No one’s gotten rich selling Ward Just books, including Ward Just." Geraldine Brooks, the adult winner, pretty made everyone tear up with a simple story of a tombstone she visits on Martha’s Vineyard. She was charming, funny and honestly, I loved her jacket. Tilbury House won in the publishing category, and I loved the call to promote not only local indies but regional publishers as well.

The panel about recommended books for the holidays was a whirlwind of great titles, far too many to list here. What intrigued me the most were the different handselling styles I saw. I picked up tips from each presenter.

The highlight of the day was the Children’s Dinner. The speakers were Shaun Tan, Shannon Hale and Mo Willems. The funniest part of the dinner, frankly, wasn’t a presenter, but Kenny Brechner’s fabulous joke about not being able to sell The Men of NECBA calendar, which featured only him for every month. Shaun Tan spoke about how he’s always drawn. He showed drawings he did as a child and it’s no wonder he’s so good. The cat he drew as a six-year-old was pretty stunning.

Shannon Hale was next and I had the pleasure of introducing her. She is wonderful. She also had a Power Point presentation about her life. But it started off with pictures of famous children’s writers and Shannon just in the frame of every photo. Clearly, she had fun setting up these "stalking" pictures. She did cry, and then stuck her tongue out at me, even though I did not make her cry — the quote she read made her cry. Shannon tears up easily, and that’s actually pretty darned charming. She said she starts writing by asking questions. I love hearing authors talk about their work. It’s a privilege glimpse inside their minds and see how they create.

Mo Willems closed out the evening and he taught us how to draw his famous pigeon, which is far easier than I thought it would be. There is a reason for this: "I like to make sure all my characters can be drawn by a five-year-old." Mo told two very funny stories that actually didn’t have anything with writing books, and we laughed and then went home with some yummy books all signed by the authors.

More later….

Author events are the backbone of my store. While every event may not be as well attended as I’d like, every year my top 50 bestselling books are from in-store events. What follows is a preliminary top 10 list of what needs to happen to make an event a success.

1. Confirm with the author, and/or publicist a week before the event. This might sound elemental, but twice this year we’ve had whoopsies with authors either getting the date wrong, or forgetting about the event because it was booked six months earlier. This works both ways, unfortunately; we forgot a stock signing that was to occur the same day we left town for our only week-long vacation of the year. Trust us, you do NOT want this to happen at your bookstore. So publicists, it’s a good idea to check in with your scheduled stops a week or two ahead. This kills two birds with one stone: confirming the event and double-checking that the store has all the books they need with enough advance time to spare. Bookselling isn’t rocket science, but it is filled with minutiae and orders coming in and customers needing a hundred things a day, etc., so things do slip through the cracks occasionally.

2. Try to have a day of the week for your events. For us it’s kids’ events on Saturday mornings and adult events on Thursday nights. This lets folks know that these are days they want to keep open. Few book groups in town meet on Thursdays now, because it always conflicts with our adult events.

3. Make sure to send press releases well in advance of the event. Newspapers need at least three weeks, more often six, to actually do something with a press release. Be respectful of their deadlines and they’ll be much more likely to run your release. Don’t forget to do calendar listings with all papers. Sometimes this is a separate department from the press release folks. Don’t assume a press release will get a calendar listing automatically.

4. Don’t know how to write a press release? Learn. They’re not hard and most releases should only be a page, so it’s not rocket science. Often the publisher will have materials ready for you to tweak to your situation, so it’s really not hard.

5. The minute we book an event, the first thing I do is ask the author, publicist or whomever I booked the event with, to send me a high-resolution author photo and book cover, as well as any press materials they might have. Once I have the materials, I pass them off to Elizabeth who updates the website. As soon as the confirmation is emailed, add the event to your website. This kind of speed pleases the publishers and makes you look more professional. 

6. Make a flyer of your monthly events. We do several different sizes: some for the display window, the rest 8½ x 11 for customers to take away. And, if we’ve got time, we’ll make a calendar strip that can get tucked in every bag with purchase. Our flyers are full-color. This makes a difference, and if you plan ahead, you can get co-op for it, so it pays for itself.

7. Set-up an in-store display several weeks before the event. We have a great display table right as you walk in and we have all of our monthly author event books on display, with shelftalkers in them announcing the date of the event. Also let people know they can get a book signed without attending the event. 

8. Talk up the event to customers who are buying books by that author. Also, chat it up with folks who are buying similar books. Never underestimate the power of one person saying to another, "Hey, this really interesting author is going to be here on Thursday…"

9. Don’t forget to order the books in time! This might sound silly, but there have been times when even the best bookseller gets jammed up and either forgets to order or gets the order in too late and the books arrive the day of the event. Make friends with the other indies in your area. It’s really great to be able to send out an alarm of, "Help, I need books!" and have folks come to your aid. I always order more than I’ll likely sell because it looks nice for the author to see a lot of books, and they’re returnable. Don’t forget to order the author’s backlist titles. They sell well and it makes you look like a very confident bookseller by having it. 

10. Treat the author with respect. Don’t leave them alone in the event space to greet customers themselves. Make sure you have enough staff on hand so someone can be with the author. Have something for the author to drink (I always ask the publicist when the event gets booked if the author has a beverage preference). Also, a gift at the end of the event is not only polite but the right thing to do. 

This is the beginning of a longer list of author event tips. Keep watching as we add more to it. And please feel free to add your ideas to this list. I’m always looking for tips on having smoother events.

Gareth and I were recently at a party during which the topic of "names" came up in conversation, with people weighing in on what names they would or wouldn’t give to their own children, how they’d felt about their own names growing up, what deliriously UNfunny nicknames they were tortured with in high school, and so forth. When I asked if anyone present had seen Laura Wattenberg’s truly interesting book The Baby Name Wizard, which charts the popularity of names over time, making it a really interesting study in sociology, I was momentarily shocked to have at least three childless males respond enthusiastically to my question and say they loved reading Laura’s blog on BabyNameWizard.com. 

Ummm… Excuse me? My unvarnished reaction was complete befuddlement over the response of these gentlemen, even after I’d taken into the consideration the fact that one of them is a linguist. STILL! Linguists or not, these are men — nerdy men — with no children of their own, at least one of them still single, and they regularly read a blog about baby naming?? I had to investigate.

Before I file my brief report on Laura Wattenberg’s Baby Name Wizard blog, let me first just state that, NO, this topic does NOT have any specific relevance whatsoever to my own current personal life. Yes, I just got married, but that does NOT mean that Gareth and I have plans to "expand" the size of our family just yet, so you can stop your speculating, just as I am going to stop looking askance at any man who mentions loving Laura Wattenburg’s blog now that I understand this simple fact: it’s fascinating — perhaps even more so (or at least in more ways) than her book.

The topics Laura writes about are just plain interesting. They explore surprising or intriguing trends in our society, inviting readers to ponder what our choices of names are currently saying about our values, our behaviors, and the ways in which we are using and/or changing language. This blog is, in short, tailor-made for word nerds like me. And many of you. Which is why I thought it would be the perfect fit for ShelfTalker.

Let me give you a few examples of (very) recent posts that I loved reading and pondering and think you might enjoy reading and pondering too.

In her post "The Name of the Future," Laura looks at a name that was recently submitted to the Namipedia on The Baby Name Finder’s website, to which parents submit the names of their children for cataloguing/graphing/commenting purposes. (A recent clarification on what names can/will be included in Namipedia: "Any user-submitted name page can stay in Namipedia if there’s a good reason for other users to be interested in it," which sounds fair to me.) The name up for discussion in this post is Ily. Laura’s advice: "Pronounce it like Riley minus the R." The person who submitted this name explained that Ily’s mother "first had the idea for the name when a friend ended a text or email with the acronym ILY, meaning I Love You," to which my immediate response is a somewhat dumbfounded silence. I mean, really, it’s not a bad name, sound-wise, but how do I feel about names that are inspired by instant messaging? And why didn’t I see this trend coming? 4COL*, what names will be next??! (*Translation: "For crying out loud!") I am a little fearful of the other names that may well be coming down this particular pike but admittedly interested in seeing if/in what ways this trend continues. No doubt Laura will keep me posted. 

Another fun post to ponder is "Romantic Pen Names When the Author Is a Character." In this one, Laura looks at the rather mundane pen names female authors of romance novels typically choose for themselves, versus the much more romantic-sounding ones they bestow on their characters. Her explanation for the differences between the two makes perfect sense to me. Read the post and see if you agree.

Finally, one more post worth mentioning here if for no other reason than the fact that it’s certainly got something to do with children’s books. "Naming an American Girl" looks at the names given by American Girl to its characters and subsequent dolls/books/insert product here. These names are both realistic or "plausible," historically, and very current in their appeal. After so many years of shelving books starring these so-carefully-named characters, why haven’t I noticed this before? Hmm.

Clearly Laura’s blog warrants reading by many more folks than just those looking for the right baby moniker. Visit it, go back through the archives, and let me know if you land on any other gems the rest of us should make a point of reading! I will, meanwhile, be doing the same.

I have much to do today. Chief among my tasks aside from work and doing my Chinese homework (not something one can rush through) is planning for the NEIBA (New England Independent Booksellers Association) Trade Show which I leave for tomorrow. I love this trade show.

This year the show is in Hartford, Ct., not as New England-y as previous shows in Providence or Boston, but I hear the convention center is really great, and I’m not averse to change. There are many education opportunities this year — two full days without competition from the show floor being open. This is a great change. It’s always hard to be at s trade show and miss the floor, as many of did at BEA, because you’re choosing to attend or are facilitating, educational sessions. These sessions are where I get energized again. Great ideas are shared, as are frustrations. Being able to talk to other booksellers about the year thus far is fun and enlightening as you realize many have had the same struggles you’ve had with the economy and business.

There are many sessions to choose from, but the ones I’m planning on attending are: Up to Speed for the Holiday: Recommending Books from 0-60 in Under 70. This panel features many experts in the field recommending their favorite books of the season. I enjoy this kind of session, because there are always books that I’ve missed that I shouldn’t have. And I love hearing seasoned booksellers talk books because they’re so passionate about them.

For the next session I need to clone myself because both sessions sound good: There’s the session with Chris Morrow from Northshire, called Independent Opportunities for Print on Demand, a topic that has been discussed at the Flying Pig. I feel I have pretty good relationships with publishers, but the session Booking Lasting Relationships Between Booksellers and Publishers promises new ideas on how to sell more books.

Thursday night is the Children’s Dinner which is the highlight for me. I get to see all my friends in one place and the speakers are generally excellent. This year we’re lucky enough to have Shannon Hale, Shaun Tan and Mo Willems. It should be a great evening.

The unhindered day of education continues Friday, first with an author breakfast featuring Mary Karr, Anita Shreve and Sarah Vowell. I’ve got my tickets for what should be a passable meal (the breakfasts at any trade show always leave me craving protein) and three amazing speeches.

The education session after the breakfast is one I’m participating in: Enough with the Good Will. Come to it to find out how booksellers are getting innovative about money-making events. This is followed by the annual NECBA meeting. I would like to take a moment to thank Vicky Uminowicz and Kenny Brechner for their outstanding work as the NECBA Co-Chairs for the past two years. Their term ends with the trade show and they have worked extremely hard to keep NECBA vital and fun,  and I just wanted to give them a shout-out for all they’ve done.

There are many riches to this year’s trade show: Daniel Pink is the keynote speaker on Friday.  There will be a sneak peak at the show floor from 5-6:15, just enough to whet our appetites for Saturday’s full day of making orders and seeing what’s new.

Here’s hoping we all have a great show. I’ll be posting throughout the show to let folks know how it’s going.

I had a lovely Saturday at the Flying Pig. Customers streamed in and streamed out, all bustling about on an absolutely stunning fall day. I was working, quite contentedly, by myself, and as a consequence, I didn’t have to share any of the riches that come in.

First, let’s start with the puppies. Desmond, a three-month old Bernese Mountain dog, came in, all fur and exuberance, just wanting a little more socialization training. I was happy to abandon shelving to aid in canine education. Amazingly, half an hour after Desmond’s training, in came young Wesley, a very small nine-week old mini-Dachshund. He just likes to be held, and hold him I did. There’s nothing quite as nice as a warm puppy nuzzling in my neck with that oddly yummy puppy breath wafting up at me. As if the puppies weren’t enough, a teenage customer just brought in her four-year old Corgi, Rex, for me to meet. I love this — customers just bringing in their dogs for us to meet. It’s fun and there’s something really cute about all these dogs walking up and down our flying pig rugs. Dogs and bookstores generally make a lovely combination, as customers just love to say hi to any four-legged creature who walks in.

Generally, on a Saturday we can count on a puppy or two, but we don’t often get gifts until the holidays. Saturday, however, was a bonanza of chocolate. The first was a lovely box of handmade Vermont chocolates that a teacher sent us as thanks for arranging a visit with Shannon Hale. I need to repeat: I was alone Saturday. No one but me knew about the delicious candies. Usually, one box of candy would make the day special, but no, there’s more. A customer, whose book order I had consistently messed up, since March! and felt sufficiently horrible about it that I gave him the book with sincere apologies, came in to thank me for the free book with a pound of fudge. I was here by myself! The fudge actually comes with a tiny knife so you can just slice off a piece when you or a customer needs one. I may say I don’t share, but at 4 pm when customers are addled, nothing gets them focused again more than an unexpected piece of fudge (I love the Shelburne Country Store for knowing how we all eat their fudge). The last food gift came from the shopkeepers next door who brought by several squares of a new organic chocolate they’re carrying. Oh, it was a good day here.

The best gift, though, came from one of my favorite customers, who told me that her suspected cancer not only might not be cancer, but is contained within her kidney, so after her surgery, she’s out of the woods. So I sliced her off a piece of fudge and gave her a candy for after the surgery.