An Open Letter to Barnes & Noble

Dear Barnes & Noble,

Why won’t you give me a book signing?

Growing up, I loved shopping at your stores, and this was during the time of Borders and other huge bookstore chains. Now you’re the last man standing, which is why I thought it was an impossible dream for a local author like me to get a signing at one of your locations. Then years ago, a college friend got a signing at his local B&N in Maryland. He wrote a memoir, and no, he’s not famous. It was his first and, so far, only book. All of a sudden, getting a signing at one of your stores seemed possible.

It would be a few more years before my debut novel, Danger Peak, was released. I was nervous, but the book was fairly well received. It was given positive reviews from Publishers Weekly and even Kirkus Reviews, which is notoriously difficult to please, and was awarded several literary accolades. So I “screwed my courage to the sticking place,” as Shakespeare once wrote (I figured you might enjoy that old-school literary reference) and approached the employees of my local B&N, which is literally down the block from me. I was given their email address and told to send them details of my book. Ecstatic, I went home and did just that.

And then I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Eventually, I returned to follow up, and I was given the same information. Dejected, I decided to try another location, this one 20 minutes away from me. I walked in with my head held high and strolled up to Customer Service, where I met a terse woman who could not have been less impressed when I handed her my book. She told me that my book might not even be available in their system. “It should be,” I said. “It’s distributed by Ingram.” She quickly typed my information in her computer, and indeed, my author profile came up. Still, she was less than enthused. After handing me back my book, she flatly stated, “We don’t cater to indie authors.” I nodded, turned around, and walked out of the store with my tail between my legs.

I figured that was it. I accepted defeat. It seemed it was just too difficult for a “regular” author like me to get a signing at Barnes & Noble. A few years went by, and I published two more books. Similar to Danger Peak, both of them earned positive recognition from various literary websites and publications, and they were given numerous book awards, including First Place at The BookFest Awards and a finalist recognition for the prestigious Eric Hoffer Book Award. One night, I attended a signing at a restaurant with other authors, and the man on my left bragged about recently securing a Barnes & Noble signing. I quickly scanned his book, and, not to sound snotty, it was written in 18-point “clown font,” what I used in college when I needed to stretch out my essays to the required length. THIS guy got a Barnes & Noble signing? I thought.

I made friends with the woman who sat to my right, and months later, she was also given a Barnes & Noble signing—at the same location as the terse woman who rejected my book. I was invited to her signing and showed up an hour late (I had plans that day), but to my relief (and surprise), she was still there, signing book after book. Apparently, her signing went so well, the store decided to give her an extra hour. After congratulating her on her success, my friend asked if I wanted to be introduced to the woman who set up her signing. Though I was nervous, I of course said “Yes,” and she literally took me by the hand and led me to the woman, whose back was facing me. When she turned around, it was revealed that she was the same terse woman who rejected me a few years before. At first, I panicked, but as we shook hands, it was clear she didn’t remember me.

“He wrote three books!” my friend raved like a heavyweight promoter. With a bright voice that was more upbeat than the tone she originally greeted me with years before (apparently, it DOES pay to know someone), the woman asked what my genre was. Nervous, I started rattling off the genres I dabble in: “Uh, I write Young Adult books. You know, coming-of-age, action-adventure, sci-fi. That kinda stuff. I also wrote a collection of dark short stories that are horror/thrillers.” When it was clear I wasn’t impressing her, I added, “Most of my books take place in the ‘80s and ‘90s.” Big mistake. If I hadn’t lost her before, I lost her then. Desperate for help, I turned to my friend, and she gave me a half shrug, as if to say, “Well, I tried.” Then I remembered something. By good fortune, my appearance to promote my books on a syndicated talk show, The Donna Drake Show, happened to air that very morning, but when I mentioned this, the woman could not have cared less. Perhaps she at last remembered when she rejected me years before.

I walked out of that store with nothing on the B&N schedule. On the way out, I passed a giant poster with my friend’s smiley face plastered in the center and the words, “Come Meet a Local Mystery Author!” highlighted above. She ended up selling out that signing.

Months later, I followed up at this Barnes & Noble location in person several times, even speaking to that same terse woman. Eventually, she told me that she was no longer in charge of author events, but she would pass on my information. I never heard back from them.

I have a friend on Instagram who lives upstate who gets a Barnes & Noble signing at least once a month. Not to sound petty, but she has a tenth of the Instagram followers I have. Over the past year, I learned a local hairdresser who wrote a memoir about being a hairdresser got a Barnes & Noble signing AND a reading. Keep in mind, she didn’t work on the hair of celebrities or anything. She was simply a cut-and-blowdry hairdresser. I then learned an ex-club bouncer who wrote a book about a fictional bouncer-turned-detective also got a Barnes & Noble signing. But my critically acclaimed, award-winning novels get no love from B&N.

Last year, I attended my daughter’s concert at her school, and my wife introduced me to a woman who sat in the row in front of us. I learned that she is a self-published author who lives around the corner from me, and she was given TWO Barnes & Noble signings, including the one guarded by the terse woman. She also sold out one of those signings. Meanwhile, I’m hybrid published and can’t even get one signing. Before I left the concert, she told me, “Barnes & Noble is so accommodating!” Not to me, I thought.

I once visited a Barnes & Noble and was given the same runaround: “Here’s our email address. Email the Event Coordinator.” I did so, and a week later, I was told this location didn’t do events, which begged the question of why the Event Coordinator had a job. A month later, I saw one of my author friends on Instagram was promoting a signing at that very location.

I didn’t understand it. Why was seemingly every local author on Long Island getting a Barnes & Noble signing except me? I was starting to think it was personal.

There was a new B&N location that opened near me, and an author group I belong to notified me via email. They said that the Event Coordinator was looking to set up some signings for local authors and to contact them with my information. I couldn’t email them fast enough. I included my one-sheets and various articles where I was interviewed and my books were covered. After following up with them a few weeks later, I was simply told, “No.” No reason was given. Just “No.”

As time went by, I cast my Barnes & Noble net wider to ever increasing concentric circles from my hometown. A month ago, I tried a Barnes & Noble over 40 minutes away. I was told that they “only do Juvenile and Young Adult events.” I said, “That’s great. I’m a Young Adult author.” The woman’s eyes lit up, and she took down my information. After telling me the Event Coordinator was on vacation, she said I would be sure to hear back from her.

I didn’t. So I called a week later and spoke to someone. While the Event Coordinator had returned from vacation, she was too busy to assist me at the moment, so I was given the store’s email address. I already knew I wouldn’t hear back from them before I emailed.

Recently, I was at a signing and met a fellow author who was boasting about her own upcoming Barnes & Noble signing. I asked how she managed to obtain one, and she said, “Oh, I just sent them a DM on Instagram.” I thought, That was IT? Keep in mind I had also sent DMs to a few locations inquiring about a signing but never heard back.

In the past few years, I have crisscrossed Long Island to visit every single Barnes & Noble location, and each and every time, I get told the same thing: “Here’s our email address. Email so-and-so and ask about a signing, and we’ll get back to you.” But they never do.

Since I wrote my first book and set up this website, I have always included a link to your website to buy my books at the bottom of my site’s pages and blogs. Through literally over a thousand social media posts over the years, I have often included links to or mentions of your website to buy my books. Your website brags about “helping local authors.” Official B&N social media posts are filled with smiling employees saying they “love” hosting indie authors for book signings and how much they love helping out “the little guy.” My family continues to shop at your stores. We have given you a small fortune over the years. Why won’t you give me a signing? It’s not like you’re going to lose any money. If anything, you stand to gain money, though, admittedly, it won’t equal the small fortune my family has given you for books, toys, and Starbucks coffees over the years. I’m not asking for a reading or a Q&A. I’m not asking for a whole weekend. I’m not asking for 5 hours. Just 2 hours on any Saturday or Sunday throughout the entire year. You can pick the date and location. Hell, at this point, I’ll drive to New Jersey for a signing at one of your stores. So again, I must ask: Why won’t you give me a signing? Because if you’re not going to give me one, at the very least, I deserve a reason.

Sincerely,

Michael Thomas Perone

***

In other MTP news, while they may not be at a Barnes & Noble, I have a few more signings coming up. Please see the bottom of my homepage for upcoming dates. I’ve added a signing since my blog last week, but I had to cancel two because I’ll be at an awards ceremony for one and at my daughter’s jazz concert for another. Oh, the sacrifices Girl Dads make! My next signing is this Saturday, April 18 at the Selden Spring Craft Fair at Newfield High School in Centereach, NY, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Hope to see you there!

MTP

P.S.: Next blog: Taking a break

P.P.S.: The Danger Peak audiobook is now available!

P.P.P.S.: The new edition of The Electric God and Other Shorts is available on Amazon and yes, even Barnes & Noble: