What makes a moment?
Towards some best practices of actually good book events
Hello from my couch where I am blissfully doing nothing this holiday weekend except scrolling through people’s public transactions on Venmo. I love seeing who is buying who a pedicure and which housemate is in charge of paying the rent.
I have been enjoying doing some things this spring, namely finally getting back into, after a long COVID era hiatus, attending more live events. When a concert or performance is genuinely good, it’s fucking magic. There’s something about putting your body in a room with other bodies where someone is creating an experience for you, leading you somewhere, in real time. A good event wakes you up—suddenly life is just a little less mundane and unbearable.
So though I have OPINIONS about what makes a good music, theater, or film event, of course I have the MOST opinions about literary events. A few of the best I’ve ever been to or have heard about, via lore, are:
Marie-Helene Bertino’s Beautyland launch at Books Are Magic in Brooklyn. She used a powerpoint presentation to deliver a close reading of the novel’s first paragraph. Each sentence was annotated, which allowed Bertino to talk about her mom, other writers she loves, and more.
The Philadelphia Museum of Art edition of roving reading series At What Cost, curated by poet and essayist Jessica Scicchitano. Scicchitano brought together poet Sylvia Jones, me, and conductor Donald Nally around the theme of “grace.” At the top of the event and then between each performer, Scicchitano read aloud from a personal essay that wove together the theme, why she chose the participants, and her struggles with her own art making practice. Nally played recordings of the choir he conducts as we all listened—together.
Hilary Leichter’s Terrace Story launch, also at Books are Magic. Leichter, who has a deep theater background, performed, from memory, a collage of deleted sentences/phrases from the novel called “Alcove” which had also been printed with care as a broadside and tucked into attendees’ books.
Tre Johnson’s Black Genius event in conversation with Deesha Philyaw and in collaboration with Ursa Story. Philyaw and Johnson had a genuinely great rapport that felt as intimate as listening to your favorite podcast but we were all listening and laughing along together.
Catherine Lacey’s Biography of X launch at P & T Knitwear in Manhattan. Lacey had her friend, Avery Trufelman of Articles Of Interest, interview three different friends who were pretending to be Lacey.
Once you’ve experienced what truly successful events feel like, one develops a certain antipathy for events that feel underbaked, poorly run, or physically uncomfortable. There’s always that one bookstore where you can never hear the speakers and the readers are introduced with a rote, bored reading of bios. I broke my first chair in public at a friend’s book launch last fall and that venue will never again be blessed by my ass!
All these opinions became (sort of) relevant when my publicist Peter and I started planning events for my new book of fiction, Fat Swim. (Summary for those who’ve just joined: it’s a book of linked short stories that just came out on April 28! It got some really nice reviews. It was featured on The New Yorker Radio Hour and NPR and Vogue and Burnt Toast and lots of other lovely places).
For the Fat Swim book tour, I chose to do just five events, each with a theme tied to one of the five senses—a thing that’s significant to the book’s plot. (To answer some common questions: most of the time the writer and the venue are footing the cost of the event not the publisher, but on this specific tour I was lucky enough to get some strong publisher support; yes I’m aware that book events don’t often sell a lot of books, and yet we beat on, etc.)
Without further ado, here is my working list of guiding principles and best practices for good literary events:
A good book event has its own plot aka logic that enriches how attendees understand the book the event is celebrating. This logic should be easily and clearly communicated to the audience via the event’s title, description, location, players, and progression of event elements. This allows meaning and then that special feeling of “what a great event!” to accrue.
Nowhere is it etched in stone that a book event must be a reading, a conversation, and then an audience q & a. Does that structure really help illuminate this specific book? No? Then don’t use it!
Each live event is a moment that will never come again and that is shaped by where and when it transpires. Good events lean into this truth rather than resist it and let the logic of the event be influenced—even determined—by the season the book is released, the event’s location, and the specific people involved.
Pick a venue with an ethos that fits the vibe of the book. Don’t pick an ornate library for a novel about messy community making; do pick it for a historical novel about the Industrial Revolution or a satire about an unhinged woman obsessed with library book binding. Don’t pick a fancy bookstore that uses a minimum $10 ticket price for a memoir about American income inequality; do pick it for a novel about the town where the bookstore is located or a work of journalism about the importance of third places.
If you treat everyone involved in the event with respect, the event will be more worthy of respect. Say thank you to the venue and event coordinator and any other people who have played a part in realizing the event. Have the books of both the featured author and the conversant (if there is one) on hand in as generous quantities as possible, and give authors water and a safe place to put their belongings. Bookstores or venues that can’t do these things shouldn’t do live events, and authors that can’t treat bookstore employees or venues with respect shouldn’t either.
A good event teaches the audience how to participate in it from the beginning. Have an engaging introduction that welcomes attendees, and tells them here’s what to expect, here’s a few things to think about tonight, here’s what we’re trying to do, so come along.
Who will come to this event and what will their bodies need? I made sure that the Fat Swim Philly event had chairs without arms and with an 800 pound weight capacity. sara nović ‘s Philly MOTHER TONGUE launch was done bilingually in ASL and English, obviously. Come to think of it, always think about chair weight capacity and ASL interpretation!!! Having a few beverage options, available for purchase if needed, or at least free water, goes a long way. Snacks will probably mean people linger rather than scurrying away.
We are aiming for movement and life rather than stagnation and sleepiness! Try to avoid using a single mode (one or two people in chairs talking) for the whole event. Add an exciting or unexpected element (visual, auditory, audience participation, etc) to ratchet up the event’s intensity or give the sensation that the event is swerving, changing direction.
Things can and will go wrong; you will need to adapt in the moment. Imagine yourself as a surfer on a surfboard and try not to let the waves of chaos knock you down. Hold the event vision loosely, not tightly, and be prepared to pivot. Over-determining an event rarely leads to satisfaction.
Overall, I’m happy with the events I helped create, but there are lots of things I’d like to refine for the future. (I tried so hard but failed to find an affordable way to have food at my Philly launch, for example.) And I still have some time—my last official event is in Frenchtown, NJ on May 31st though I’m also a part of reading series’ in Philly on June 2nd and in Brooklyn on June 8.
If you can, go to a good event in your area and tell me all about it.
Toppings
I’m watching: the Hacks lesbian episode (Cherry Jones, what a dreamboat) and That Thrifting Show — duos have to thrift or upcycle furniture items to decorate a fake room, so basically melatonin!!
I’m reading: Returns and Exchanges by Kayla Rae Whitaker. Her debut novel The Animators is some of best fiction I’ve read about artistic collaboration so it’s *wild* to me that her sophomore book hasn’t gotten more coverage. It’s precise, it’s funny, it’s smart, it moves, it has body and it has soul. It’s intergenerational, about one family in Kentucky that owns a department store. Just buy it and thank me later.
I’m amplifying: this trusted call for aid for a family in Gaza, this virtual event on Thursday about what it looks like to build new Jewish literary institutions beyond Zionism, and the unionization campaign at Hachette, the second of the big five publishing houses to make moves towards unionizing — honestly huge and all traditionally published writers should be paying attention.
I’m listening to: the audiobook of Daisy Jones and the Six — I believe it was Ashley Lopez who told me this was a perfect audiobook and it was not a lie. Not a book I’d pick up in print, but Jennifer Beals killed this narration. Next up: Poor Deer by Claire Oshetsky. Their author website is the coolest shit I’ve seen in a long time. (All links go to Libro.fm of course.)
That’s it!
Yours,
Emma
This newsletter is always free to read, but if you enjoy my writing and think it has value, order a copy of FAT SWIM or request it from your local library. Liking or commenting even an emoji below also helps other people find me <3