You know those horror stories agents and editors use as cautionary tales for what to never, ever do around them? Like to not hand them an unsolicited manuscript, follow them to public restrooms, or pitch them in the middle of a social event? Like, use common sense?



Okay, well. I never knew people would actually consider doing any of those things to lit bloggers. But I’ll tell you what, this is how I’m debuting my series of BEA recaps: rude and awkward but funny situations I found myself in at BEA.



First up was at the blogger booth. Firebrand set up a space for bloggers to sit in scheduled hour-long slots to meet readers or people who were interested. Think an author signing, but for bloggers. We had some materials to hand to curious people who passed by and trading cards to use as business cards, etc. Fun idea, huh?



Well, my slot was at 11am on Saturday. I didn’t get many visitors (way to feel like a reject, Steph!) when a middle-aged man stopped by and asked what bloggers did and how much we charged for our services. The two other people signing with me, Trish and Molly, were busy chatting with other visitors, so I explained that we do this for free as a hobby, etc…



He perked up. He pulled a (very cheap-looking) book from a suitcase he was carrying and began pitching this true crime novel to me, even after I’d told him I only do YA. I’m not good at telling industry people off in person, and my subtle attempts to get him to leave me alone failed to work, so I was stuck there. Half an hour the guy was there.



Out of an hour I had to be there. He took up half my time, and out of my peripheral vision I saw people come up and leave once they saw how engrossed he was in this one-sided conversation I couldn’t get out of. He handed me the book and said, “You gotta review it.”



“My review pile is way too big right now--”



“This will be a bestseller. Did you miss the part where a feature film is being made for July?”



Are movies even made that quickly? It sounded off to me.



“That’s great! But I really can’t--”



“Take it!”



“Uh…okay.” I took the book and put it with my stuff. “Thanks.”



“So you’ll review it?” He was looking at me so expectantly.



“…Um.”



“Hey, Steph, I gotta show you something,” the event coordinator said. “One second,” she told the guy. We walked over to the computer and she said, “You looked like you needed some help there.”



“Oh, thank you. Yeah. No kidding. He’s been here for half an hour and he’s badgering me.” I was really annoyed, more so by the fact I hadn’t found the courage to defend myself.



We browsed Twitter for a couple of minutes and I said, “Okay, I’m going back. Thank you.”



The guy was talking to another coordinator when I went back to my seat, and the coordinator looked just as uncomfortable as I’m sure I did. I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and I said, “Look, I’m not going to be able to review this as my readership is mainly comprised of teen girls who aren’t your target audience.”



He looked so immersed in his conversation with the other coordinator that he just nodded, took the book, and went on talking. I almost said something to him, but the coordinator who saved me looked like she had it under control, so I just left.



Oh my GOD, was that awkward. It makes you wonder if people have no common sense at all.



Then! At 12:30pm I was moderating a YA consumer panel. We had four teen girls (five with me, but I wasn’t a panelist) talking about their reading habits and such. We got a ton of audience questions and when the panel finished, some audience members came up to talk to me. I got through the first two people okay and then as I was talking to the third, this guy came up to me.



Another guy, mind. Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice.



He poked me. I politely motioned for him to wait a bit as I was in the middle of a conversation with another person. He tapped his foot, the classic image of an impatient prima donna, and it took my all not to roll my eyes. A couple of minutes went by, and I was still talking to the other person. Instead of waiting, he grabbed my shirt and turned me to face him and handed me a couple of children’s books.



“Read these, okay?”



“I’m sorry but--” As you can see, I was getting a little bolder. No Uhh…s this time.



“Read them, okay?”



He looked anxious to leave, so I figured if I said okay he’d go. “Sure!”



He grabbed my wrist and pulled the books from my hand. I was getting a bit creeped out, but since I wasn’t alone in the room, I said nothing. He pointed at the title and said, “If you type that into the Internet, you’ll see the website. You’ll read them, right?”



I pulled my hand back, gave him a wan smile and did like a thumbs up thing.



He left.



I apologized and continued my conversation with the other person--who looked about as irked as I was when the guy finally left--and when I was all done talking to the awesome people who stayed after the panel to chat, I threw the books in my bag and left for the book blogger panel.



Long story short: When I left New York on Monday, those two books remained in the hotel room. My bags were heavy enough as it is. Here’s to hoping the hotel housekeeper has a kid who’d be interested.



All I’m saying is: That’s not the way to pitch bloggers. Or anyone. I never thought I’d have this problem--I mean, I’m a book blogger. What published author would have the audacity to impose themselves on a person like that? It’s one thing to casually come up to someone and say, “Hi, I’m ___ and my book, ____, published by ____, might appeal to you.”



But…the above? Ick.



I guess all’s fair in marketing and BEA?