This Is My Clever Title

The other day I went to see my barber. I don’t know her name. I usually just go in, sit down, and chat while she cuts my hair. I pay her cash that includes a small tip, say “see ya later,” and leave. Occasionally I see her at the grocery store. Since I don’t know her name, I just say, “Hi, how’s it going,” and “How’s your son,” (I don’t know his name either.) But on this day, I happened to mention that my son, Ian, had moved to town a few weeks before. “I recommended Ian to you. He said that he had been in a couple of times.”

“Really? What’s he look like? We don’t always know what peoples’ names are unless they tell us,” she said.

This is my book, Kindergarten.

You can find out more about that in my post Kindle Books.

“He gets his hair cut military style on the sides. He’s about six foot tall, dark hair, and if he was wearing short sleeves when he came in, you’d recognize him by his tattoos on his arms.” I was really proud about how I was able to describe my son of 32 years. My memory was impeccable.

“What kind of tattoos?”

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Dang, I couldn’t remember. “Hmmm, I think one of them is a dragon.”

“Oh! You’re talking about Dragon Boy. We wondered what his name was. So he’s your son?”

“Yes,” I replied. Dragon Boy?

I must have had a puzzled look on my face because what’s-her-name, the barber said, “We usually give nicknames to our customers when we don’t know their real ones. That way we can know who we’re talking about.”

By “we” she was talking about the other woman that cut hair in the shop. I don’t know what her name is either. I just referred to the two barbers as “the one in the front” and “the one in the back” when I told Dragon Boy about the barbershop and who to ask for.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that my barber, “the one in the back,” probably didn’t know my name! I didn’t remember ever introducing myself. I’d been coming in there for five years and I didn’t remember her ever calling me by name. Uh oh. What nickname had she been calling me? The curly white-headed fat guy?

I quickly scanned around the mirror in front of me. Nearly obscured among all the pictures of her grandson (whatever his name is) was a name! Kathy... or Karen. I think it began with the letter K. I called her by name, “...my name is Dan Case. Did I ever introduce myself?”

“Great! I’m glad to know your name, Dan,” she said.

I frowned. “So, you didn’t know my name before?”

“No.”

I hesitated. “So do you have a nickname for me?”

“Yeah, Bigfoot.”

“Bigfoot?” My eyes quickly moved to my average sized feet. What did that mean? You wouldn’t consider me to be hairy, or tall, or... did I have body odor?

“Sure,” she said. “We’ve been calling you that ever since you told me about your trip to find Bigfoot.”

Realization set in. I had told her about a research trip that author Charles W. Sasser and I took the year before to examine locations of Sasquatch sightings and interview people for a book and magazine articles we were doing about the Bigfoot phenomena.

“Oh.” Was all I could think of in reply.

After she had cut my hair and I was paying her, I said, “Don’t forget now, my name is Dan Case.” I was determined to say my name more than once each time I came in. Somehow I had to rid myself of the “Bigfoot” nickname.

“As I got in my truck, a thought struck me. “Bigfoot” wasn’t such a bad nickname. It could have been much worse. I do remember telling “the one in the back” about my interview with Bob (I think that was his name), the guy that makes his living cleaning out septic tanks.

This is a test Post for Tulsa

I was excited to have Bob Avey at my house overnight. He was signing books at the local Hastings Book Store that day, so I had invited him to stay over and speak to my critique group that night. He pulled up in his little red car that was completely wrapped on both sides with the image of his book cover for Twisted Perception. The first thing I thought of when I saw Bob’s car was… park this thing near the street at the bookstore so everyone knows who’s signing books!

Bob’s always been one of my favorite book promoters, so I thought I would do a little interview with him today.

Dan: What books are you promoting these days?

Bob: I'm currently promoting my two Detective Elliot novels; Twisted Perception, AWOC Books, April 2006; and Beneath a Buried House, AWOC Books June 2008. I'm also busy working on a third Detective Elliot novel, tentatively titled, Footprints of a Dancer.

Dan: Tell us about your most successful promotional tool or event.

Bob: I've never been one to follow the pack, and while many authors are out there trying to find places other than bookstores—because that's what they've been told to do—in which to hold book signings, I've done just the opposite. Contrary to what I keep reading, I've had great success at bookstores. My most successful event was at a Hastings bookstore in Muskogee, Oklahoma where I sold 40 books in about three hours. And my most successful sales tool has been to just get out there and talk to people. Don't get me wrong. Bookstores are not the only places I sell books. I've held book signings at arts and crafts fairs, antique shops, libraries and even some shady bars. The trick is to be congenial and outgoing, but in a subtle and professional manner.

Dan: What do you do regularly to promote your books?

Bob: When I am on the promotional go, I talk to people about my books wherever I go. If they seem interested, I give them bookmarks, or whatever promotional materials I have on me at the time.

Dan: So tell us about the car.

Bob: When my first book, Twisted Perceptions, was published, it dawned on me one day that even in my home town of Tulsa most of the people living there didn't even know I existed, much less that I had a book out. I decided an easy way to change that would be to have some magnetic signs made, the kind that you stick to the doors of your car. I called several sign companies and was told that due to the shape of my car this wouldn't work. If I drove over twenty miles per hour, the signs would blow off. Since driving around town at nineteen miles per hour didn't seem feasible, I asked what else I could do. One of the sign guys told me that I needed a wrap. I told him I didn't care for that kind of music. He went on to explain that "wrapping" is transferring a digital image to thin vinyl, which would then be applied to the car. When done right, it looks good, just like paint.

After Bob left my house the next day, my neighbor came over and asked me, “Who was that? The pizza man?”

“No,” I said. “That was Bob Avey, the Lone Ranger. Hi-ho Silver… away.”