How not to lose your shit (literally) when pRE:senting to sales distributors: I just let it all out!

“Don’t try to be what you’re not. If you’re nervous, be nervous. If you're shy, be shy. It’s cute.” — Supermodel Adriana Lima

Me: What could possibly go wrong?

Anxiety: Well, I’m glad you asked!

The Anxiety Poop Attack I was under two weeks ago started at 5 a.m. and lasted nearly 12 hours, until 5:30 p.m..

That’s a whole lot of shit going on.

Anxiety Poop for females—and I suppose males but, well, gag—is a real diagnosis, according to Dr. Google. Same with “anxiety diarrhea.” 

Some more polite women describe this kind of suffering as having a “nervous stomach.” Let’s just say my “bowel anxiety” was…intense.  I’m not embarrassed about it. We’re all human and we all have to go.

But on that Monday, “Nature” called every seven and a half fucking minutes. (I know! So super sexy!)

I had spent so much time in the washroom that day, in fact, I had managed to memorize the ingredients on the back of my deodorant, toothpaste and a facial serum. (Along with also memorizing my notes, as you’ll learn!)

Yes! I suffer from “Research Anxiety” too.

Always trust your gut, people say. But that Monday? On presentation day? No way would I trust my gut that had completely gone haywire, to the point that I thought about writing myself a “feel better soon” card that would read, “Dear Stomach, You’re hungry. Not nervous. So just shut up!”

Why was I under this poop attack?

Late that afternoon—13 hours after my alarm went off—I had to make a virtual presentation to “sales distributors.” I was nervous. If your brain is feeling nervous, your stomach also feels the panic.

Sales distributors are hard to explain, so bare with me. (Or Google it later!)

Sales distributors act as the conduit between publishers—like RE:BOOKS—and chain retailers (think Indigo), mass market stores (think Walmart and Costco) and online retailers (think Amazon), as well as independent bookstores—shout out!—gift and specialty shops, amongst other places people can potentially buy books.

“Partnership,” is a more apt word, I think. 

If you’re not in publishing, you wouldn’t even know these presentations occur (and thus you wouldn’t have ever learned that I suffer from anxiety presentation poop. But we pretty much have flushed gone down that rabbit hole.)

Presenting your books to the sales distributors behind-the-scenes is one of the most important  steps in getting as many of your books out into the marketplace as possible!

I had to present my upcoming “list”—a “list” in publisher’s lingo, means the upcoming books RE:BOOKS (and other publishers) plan to publish this year—in front of 20 “account managers” across North America. 

Then, the account managers go and sell your book to these massive book outlets as well as specialty stores in the territories they represent. If you think, as an author, you don’t want your book in Costco, or Walmart, don’t be a sob think again! It’s music to a publisher’s ears if a huge chain takes your books, because publishers are interested in people buying their books. So, if you think about the foot traffic in these stores…

Publishers spend weeks perfecting their presentations, with slideshows highlighting cover designs of upcoming books, the synopsis, or “sell line,” to show the sales distributors why their upcoming “titles” are relatable and relevant and, most importantly, they are books that will sell because of their massive appeal.

A publisher must show that, of course! they will sell as many copies as Michelle Obama’s Becoming. If not more! (Because your books and authors are *THAT* good!)

Meaning, you can’t just go in half-assed. (That was not an intended pun, but hey, it worked out nicely!)

I don’t think I’m spilling any industry secrets here. Bluntly, publishers want the sales distributors to be as excited about the books you’re presenting and planning to publish equally as much as you—the publisher—are.

Equally as important, you also want the sales reps or account manager’s valuable feedback. 

That feedback can range from changing the pricing you chose to sell your book at, to suggestions on how to improve your cover designs, and even the titles. At the very least, they DO give you something to ponder. At the very most? Well…

To give you context on how important the sales distributors are, and thus my presentation? I once received a panicked call from a friend in publishing. They had presented their titles, but when the sales reps tried to sell it to a chain outlet in their territory, the chain didn’t like their cover, so this publisher had to, quite madly and frantically, design a new cover. 

The sales distributors aren’t scary people. Admittedly, I only met the entire team in person once—many who flew in from across North America—and they seemed quite lovely. I could have stayed and chatted. They had planes to catch.

Also, while I can fake it until I make it, I could think of 1000 things I feel much less anxiety ridden about doing, including getting a pap smear or packing, than to speak in front of numerous people. I hate it. But I can fake it. Plus, being nervous isn’t all that shitty. It means something important is about to happen!

The sales distributors and their account managers know “the market,” what’s hot and trendy right now as well as book buying habits—thus “sellable”—in the territories they sell into more than anyone.

They know their shit, so to speak.

Now back to my shit…

Yes, it is normal to experience stomach troubles with anxiety before presenting.

The cramps that came along with my anxiety diarrhea that day were so bad I found myself actually wanting to cry missing every single second in my previous life, meaning the day before, when I wasn’t part of the cause of (toilet) paper supply chain issues. (While also begging my stomach to stop throwing tantrums, like an unhappy child.)

The first time I presented my upcoming book titles I had no clue what to expect or even what I was doing, really. Actually, I had no idea what to expect. This is not something I learned in school.

But oh did I (and do) prepare for these presentations, which occur every few months—basically every season—sort of on the same seasonal timeline as when I get my facials. So four times a year.

I also—sigh—suffer from “Research Anxiety”—which is not a medical diagnosis, according to Dr. Google, but I spend a truly ridiculous copious amounts of time researching why the RE:BOOKS titles will have broad appeal, and will sell a shitload of books.

To give you an idea of just how much research I do? Enough that I print off about 50 pages of research, for each book I’m presenting, including stats, quotes, and pretty much anything to show how “sellable” RE:BOOKS’s titles (and our authors) are—pages that I then read, study, and memorize. And then read, study, and memorize. And then read, study, and memorize.

If I didn’t prepare like I was about to go in for an exam on nuclear engineering, I would just throw out useless information, which also sometimes happens when I get nervous. (Like, did you know that camels have three eyelids? Or the average person will spend six months of their life waiting for red lights to turn green?)

Pretty much, you have to, or should, be ready to have an answer to any of the account managers/sales distributors questions about all your titles on the spot, including, again, why your titles are super-awesome, super-sellable, what 26 x 195 equals without a calculator, and how to switch your television back to HDMI 1 without the surround sound, with four remote controls in front of you.

Or at least that’s how it feels leading up to presentation days.

Let me rewind and take you back to my first-time popping my cherry presenting. 

This first presentation was in person at the sales distributor's offices—thanks to Dr. Google, I learned some tips to stop the Anxiety Poop Attack I was under on that day as well, which was even worse that day, in some ways, because I had to drive 25 minutes to get to their offices. 

And, you guessed it! I’m also a nervous driver. (If I don’t hit a garbage or recycling bin driving out from my underground garage, I consider that a great success!) 

I ate yogurt. I stayed away from coffee. I fucking ate apple sauce. But I still wasn’t confident. So, I turned to drugs. (And no I don’t mean pot) Although…

I’m talking about Imodium—I’ve never tried it before but it works on my fiancé who actually does suffer from digestive stomach issues. (He is one of those who should not be eating pizza or ice cream but does, knowing he’ll be suffering afterwards, yet not caring…because of Imodium.)

Plus, Imodium products have been “helping diarrhea sufferers for over 30 years!” according to their website—See? I really do suffer from “Research Anxiety.”) 

In any case, when I first saw their boardroom table, and how many people were sitting there, I got distracted from worrying over my stomach issues and thought, “Um, my only options right now, it seems, would be to cry, run out of this office, or faint.”

I was thrown into a pool without a life jacket. I would swim or sink, with 40 eyeballs watching me pitch the upcoming books I’d be publishing, hoping the sales distributors/account managers would rally and be as excited as I am with the books I was presenting. 

There were about 20-some-odd sales/account managers all sitting, seemingly seriously, along the long table, all with their laptops open in front of them. Because guess what? 

As you are pitching your this is going to be the next Eat, Pray, Love titles, the account managers are, in real-time, looking up the author’s name, looking up if any other books are out there with the same title as yours, and the success, or lack of success, of the “comp” titles—“comp” is publishing lingo for “comparable” books—you’ve provided.

There’s a lot of click-clicking going on with account managers in front of their laptops as you are speaking.

I pitched my titles by just being myself, which is always somewhat of a crapshoot too—Hey, another unintended pun that worked out nicely!—since my sense of humour is not everyone’s sense of humour. I did not picture them naked, because I’m not sure I’m allowed to do that anymore, or am I? 

I tried to crack a joke before presenting my titles, saying all my upcoming authors are “past their prime! Proudly!” since I was presenting after CNN’s Don Lemmon—who had just been fired from CNN—had said that Republican presidential candidate, Nikki Haley, isn’t “in her prime” at age 51. 

It just so happened that all the upcoming authors I was pitching just happened to be over the age of 40.

No one laughed…except me. Because I think I’m hilarious also laugh when I get nervous too.

It helped to remind myself that I was super prepared and that I truly do believe my upcoming titles will have wide appeal. 

But, as you can tell, it’s a bit of a shitstorm—This time? Pun intended!—leading up to presenting titles to sales distributors and account managers.

So, I did (and also did not) lose my shit.

Until next time, that is, when hopefully, my presentation will not be so late in the afternoon—thus shortening the Poop Attack I find myself under when presenting?

Until next time,

Flip your hair, and flip the page (I’m off to buy a crapload of toilet paper!)

xoxo

Rebecca