I loved reading this because I think it could apply equally to a filmmaker, animator or any other type of storyteller… find your audience, engage them, use their interest and passion to help you reach others. Inspiration!

Essay – The D.I.Y. Book Tour

I arrived early — I’m always early — at a house in Chesterfield, Va., a short drive from Richmond, down the Powhite Parkway. It was the 15th city I’d been to promoting my new book, “The Adderall Diaries.” I had given a reading the night before at a home in a nearby town, and when I mentioned Chesterfield people made sour faces. But I go where I’m invited.

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Illustration by Jessica Hische

The leaves were changing color, the lawns still green. The small house was on a street filled with similar houses and well-tended front yards. My host explained that she was a nurse at a hospital in Richmond, and Chesterfield was the closest place she could afford. She had just moved in, and there wasn’t much furniture, just 20 white folding chairs not yet arranged.

Soon 19 of her friends showed up, and we spread out into the living room and small kitchen. Many of them also worked at the hospital. One was a professional jujitsu fighter and personal trainer, another a real estate agent. What was most interesting to me was that none of them had ever been to a literary event. Several told me they were big readers, at least a book a week. But when I asked a few of them about their reading habits, they hadn’t heard of the authors who are famous in my world: Lorrie Moore, Roberto Bolaño, Michael Chabon. This is most of America, I thought; I’ve stepped through the door.

I recently wrapped up a 33-city book tour. Originally, my publisher had a standard tour planned for me, bookstores in five large coastal cities. The early reviews were strong, and one friend, a successful author, encouraged me to do a larger tour. But the idea depressed me. “The Adderall Diaries” is my seventh book. I have my following, but I’m not famous. I didn’t want to travel thousands of miles to read to 10 people, sell four books, then spend the night in a cheap hotel room before flying home. And my publisher didn’t have the money for that many hotel rooms anyway.

I decided to try something I hoped would be less lonely. Before my book came out, I had set up a lending library allowing anyone to receive a free review copy on the condition they forward it within a week to the next reader, at their own expense. (Now that a majority of reviews are appearing on blogs and in Facebook notes, everyone is a reviewer.) I asked if people wanted to hold an event in their homes. They had to promise 20 attendees. I would sleep on their couch. My publisher would pay for some of the airfare, and I would fund the rest by selling the books myself.

I had no idea what to expect. When you read in people’s homes you’re reading to a reflection of their world. In Lincoln, Neb., I read in the home of Ember Schrag, a 25-year-old folk-rock musician. She plastered the town with fliers, but the people who came were all in their 20s and into rock ’n’ roll. In Las Vegas I read at Laurenn McCubbin’s house. She’s a painter, and her primary subjects are adult entertainers. Many people in attendance were either artists or sex workers or both.

The people who showed up for these events had usually never heard of me. They came because it was a party at their friend’s house and the friend promised to make those cupcakes they like or was calling in a favor. Nobody wants to give a bad party, and touring this way ensured there would be at least one person other than myself who would be embarrassed if no one showed up.

The readings mostly went very long, over an hour with questions, and people didn’t leave. We were often up discussing until 1 in the morning. An important part of the book is my troubled relationship with my father and what I took to be his confession to murder in an unpublished memoir. (I investigated and found no evidence of any such killing; my father refuses to confirm or deny it.) Following the reading, over a glass of wine or slice of cake or nothing at all, people told me about their own difficult relationships with family members, people they couldn’t forgive or who wouldn’t forgive them. In a weird way the readings began to feel like an extension of the book.

At a reading last month in West Seattle, I sat in a chair in a corner. The attendees surrounded me on a large sectional sofa with extra seats. The host had stacked my books above the mantelpiece. Nobody asked about my writing process, or how to find an agent or a publisher. Unlike at every reading I’ve done for every other book I’ve written, there were no aspiring writers in attendance. One of the guests asked about my mother — why isn’t she a bigger part of the story? I said she was very sick for five years and died when I was 13, which is when I left home.

Reading in people’s homes is a little stressful. With a few exceptions, these were people I’d never met. They usually picked me up at the airport or bus station. Once I arrived I couldn’t really leave. Then I met their friends and I tried to sell them books, like Tupperware, one at a time. All together, I sold about 1,100 books (not counting copies of my older books, which I was also selling) at 73 events. Seven hundred of those were books I purchased wholesale, a few hundred more were sold by local booksellers invited to the readings.

One of the more obvious things I realized is that people with money buy a lot more books. They will buy books out of obligation, just to be polite, because you did a reading in their home, or for a signed souvenir of a fun evening. I did one of the best readings of my life to 40 college students and sold fewer than 10 books. Other nights, at fancier homes, I sold more books than there were people in attendance.

Not everything worked out. At a home in Boston I read to seven people, six of them graduate students. During the discussion one of the students announced, “You must be tired of talking about yourself.” None of the students bought a book, and on the way out the same woman urged me to “keep writing.”

In Chesterfield, after an hour of getting to know one another, we set up the folding chairs and people sat politely in rows. They asked interesting questions about murder and confession and the moment the lie mixes with the truth like red and yellow paint, becoming orange, the original colors ceasing to exist. Afterward people went back to talking, grabbing another drink or a snack. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I thought to myself that they weren’t a standard literary audience: they were better.

Stephen Elliott’s most recent book is “The Adderall ­Diaries.”

Sign in to Recommend More Articles in Books » A version of this article appeared in print on January 17, 2010, on page BR23 of the New York edition.

Below is an invaluable tool for anyone seeking to write a pitch document for a grant, private investor, foundation or broadcaster. I’ve been referring to it for several years and re-read every six months or so. I’d add to the discussion several key points:

1) Describe (early in your treatment) what you want to accomplish with the project – is it a call to action?: Do you hope to get people to start a garden, cherish their kids, write their congressman, discuss your story with their friends, boycott the mall? Or is it a personal exploration? By exploring your sexuality, probing your family’s past, or creating animated fantasy worlds you hope to inspire others to reflect on the universal stories we share. Even if your project is a “straightforward” history doc or science show – try and define what reactions you are hoping it will stimulate in your audience. This will help define your entire project.

2)Consider your print format: find ways to bullet or break up your key points into quickly readable bites (you never know if you’ll be pitching this in person and your audience chooses to grab your paper and scan it while you talk.) Nothing is less appetizing than a solid mass of text with narrow margins and few paragraphs – no matter how well written.

3) Be sure to consider the ways that your project will stand out from others under consideration. What storytelling innovation are you bringing? Do you have a niche audience? Do you have 5000 followers on Facebook? Is there a video game or app attached to the project? Will you be screening on rooftops? Today, more than ever, funders are looking for innovation.

WRITING A BETTER ITVS TREATMENT

“If a story is in you, it has got to come out.”
- William Faulkner

TREATMENT
In the treatment section of the ITVS proposal we ask you to communicate your passion and to explain how you envision translating your story from page to screen – taking into account structure, theme, style, format, voice and point-of-view. What do these words really mean? Here, members of the programming staff offer notes on writing an effective treatment. Remember, these are only suggestions; your treatment will undoubtedly be unique – tailored to the specific demands of your story.

PASSION
When writing the treatment, don’t be afraid to infuse your words with passion. Your excitement and sense of urgency should be contagious.

STRUCTURE
Like the frame of a house, or a human skeleton, structure holds up all the parts of a story, supporting and organizing the elements into a coherent and interrelated dramatic whole. Structure determines how the story will unfold dramatically, how it will build – moving through moments of tension and conflict – from beginning to middle to end. Structure is the road a reader takes through the dramatic terrain of the program.Article continues…

This chain of newspapers is boldly striking out into digital territory that no other legacy media has ventured in (switching to free online tools and more), but I’m eager to consider how our station can adopt this idea:

Telling the Stories

A cornerstone of the Ben Franklin Project is the inclusion of everyone in the process. While project observers helped fill the toolshed, our audiences helped fill the websites and printed pages.

The Ben Franklin Project opens the process and allows everyone to participate at whatever level they are comfortable. Adhering to Journal Register’s digital first mission, the Ben Franklin Project will empower the audience – through use of free web-based tools (the list of which is still being finalized) – to determine on what stories our reporting and editing staff should be focusing their efforts. The audience – the news consumer – will no longer simply be the end user. By transforming the process the traditional “end user” will be put at the beginning of the process when she helps shape the newsgathering and participates in the newsgathering.

And the audience wasted no time in participating. The Perkasie News-Herald invited readers to a town hall meeting — a mix of old-school outreach and the new-school crowdsourcing approach. The Q-and-A session of the meeting served as a news meeting where residents requested stories on the local electric rates and the community’s pay-as-you-throw trash collection system. Reporters and editors still did the work but they knew from the time story assignments were conceived that these stories matter to the audience.

The News-Herald in Lake County asked readers to help extend the newsroom’s reach by covering more turf than the reporting team could do alone. Editors, using Facebook, asked followers to help the staff build a list of the most dangerous intersections in the coverage area. By asking the audience to collaborate the staff was able to collect dozens of suggestions within the first few hours of the Facebook post. Reporters cross-referenced the submissions with data obtained from police. The same worked for a series of stories on blighted properties in the area. Readers were asked to report blighted properties and the reporters then investigated.

The crowdsourcing not only ensures the stories are relevant to the readership but also provides greater depth and breadth to the report as the community — collaborating with reporters and editors — can help extend the reach of the newsroom.

SpringBoardMedia: Ken Price, Bukowski, Curation and Film

My favorite part of the show was over at the Franklin Parrasch Gallery in Midtown (only until April 20) – they have a collection of ephemera, books, postcards, album covers and even tequila bottles designed by or featuring art works by Ken Price. If you like his sculptures (I’m not as big of a fan of these as his other work, though they are what he’s most known for), then you must stop by to watch the ten minute video showing his process (layering up paint and then sanding it down to expose layers in patterns). Note to curators – put this video on YouTube once the show is over and his sales will likely triple. Anyway, the piece I most liked, and that I think is in a weird way most relevant to film, was a limited edition hard-bound coffee table book of Charles Bukowski’s Heat Wave, with drawings and original art work by Ken Price. The cover is the photo I’ve used here. As Black Sparrow’s website explains, the book was a large format (15×12) portfolio, with text by Bukowski (poems), illustrated with 17 black and white works by Price, handbound and including a disc of Bukowski reading his poetry and containing a compartment in the back with 15 original serigraphs which could be removed and framed. A limited, signed edition was made as well as a limited, unsigned edition and the entire thing came in a slipcase with a cool design.

I’m a fan of both Price and Bukowski (yes, I’ve not left my college reading days too far behind), but you don’t have to like either to think about how this could be used for film. Not every film, but some. I’ve often talked about ways to monetize content in a world where everything is increasingly becoming free – well, here’s a great example. I can see Price’s works for free, in galleries and online. Bukowski’s poems are all over the place, and even with his popularity, I can find them in numerous used bookstores for cheap. But this is a piece of art – when it first came out in 1996 it sold for about $3,500 and I imagine it’s worth much more now. I can’t afford it, but I bet the 100+ editions they made sold out. How can filmmakers duplicate this? Again, not everyone can, but I imagine there are fans who would buy something similar from many indie films. Perhaps stills from the film, coupled with the script, a DVD, etc. Or maybe the film, the soundtrack and text from an author that is in a similar vein as the subject of the film.  I’ve got lots of ideas for this, and I’m helping a few filmmakers whose films could definitely be re-purposed this way, but thought I’d share the idea with all of you, perhaps you can come up with an even better way to copy the idea in your work.