Do You Read Science Fiction? (And Other Icebreakers I Used Selling Books at STAPLE!)

I managed to snag a table at STAPLE! The Independent Media Expo on January 24, 2026, thus beginning three months of anxiety and ill-conceived plans to dye my hair, change my name, and flee to Mexico. It was going to be my first time ever selling my books in person, and boy, was I feeling unprepared. I scoured the internet for blog posts about what to bring to my first show, how to talk to people, and what I should do if I accidentally pee a little. By the time the expo rolled around on April 11, I'd resigned myself to treating the experience like a beautiful disaster, meaning I would embrace everything that went wrong, and if I only sold a single book, I'd count that as a complete success.

So I loaded up my trusty Passport, and off we went.

The Table

It's a bit of a drive down to St. Edward's University, and I spent most of that time reconsidering the Mexico Gambit. My new name would be Delgado Delgado, a retired bullfighter from Madrid, who spoke no English but also no Spanish, having taken a vow of silence after bulls murdered his entire family. Luckily, Waze had no knowledge of this plan, so it led me to campus and a small parking lot where I loaded up and headed for the Mabee Ballroom. There were already tons of people wheeling in their wares, and once I checked in, I made my way to the back corner to set up my table.

I'd mocked up my layout at home, so it was pretty easy to throw everything together before the doors officially opened. I talked with my friendly and helpful neighbors (see: @puns.andneedles and Dan Wolff), I took off my undershirt, and settled in for what I thought would be seven arduous hours of trying to make eye contact with people who didn't want to make eye contact.

What really took the edge off was the realization that, for the first time since I self-published The Sum of Memory in 2004, I found myself in the proper context for pitching my books. These people weren't meeting me at a party and trying not to die inside as I described my books. I wasn't afraid to present myself as a writer without mentioning I have a day job. And more than anything, most of this audience was here because they wanted to support local artists.

I did feel a little out of place as one of maybe 2 or 3 writers at the expo (most were comics, graphic novels, and artisans (ooh, fancy)). But that feeling went away pretty quickly after meeting the expo's organizer, "Uncle Staple." He stopped by my table and talked for a bit, mentioning (perhaps just for my benefit) that he was happy to have prose represented at the event. STAPLE! may not have been the perfect place for me, but at least I was welcome.

The Pitch

The first few people who stopped by my table got the worst version of Salesperson Daniel that has ever existed. Opening with Howdy, How are you, or just nervous silence didn't really get me anywhere. I think someone even asked me at one point, So, did you write all these? That's when I realized I needed to be a more active participant in the sales process. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to simply tell these people that buying my books would change their lives in ways they couldn't yet imagine. Mostly because that's probably not true.

Then I stumbled upon something almost by accident. I found that waiting a few seconds for someone to take in my book covers gave me a moment to ask Do you read science fiction? A few pitches later, I added Who's your favorite? That seemed to confuse people or put them on the spot, so I switched it up to Who are you reading right now? You would think the people who answered negatively to these questions wouldn't be good candidates for sales, but you'd be wrong. Those were actually the most curious, and as I described the breadth of what science fiction could be, I was able to win over several non-readers and convince them to take a chance.

People just like to talk, and I found that no matter what they said, I could relate it back to my books. The most popular answer to what are you reading was Project Hail Mary, since most people had seen the movie and were now working their way through the book. I turned that into man, everyone is mentioning that title, and space travel is one of the few elements that is nowhere to be found in my books. And while we were both laughing at my misfortune, I'd tell them what my books did have.

I was pleasantly surprised to find such a well-read crowd, from Andy Weir to Frank Herbert to Dan Simmons. Someone even threw out The Veldt by Ray Bradbury. Talk about your deep cuts. But as soon as I knew what they liked to read, I could find a way in, especially since I love to mix in other genres. I'm essentially the Amy's Ice Cream of science fiction.

The People

There was a rule I came up with years ago, and it was you don't market to your friends. You don't need to. There are just some people out there who are going to support you no matter what, which has been my experience since I was posting short fiction on my blog back at the turn of the century. What I didn't expect at STAPLE! was that these friends would get in their cars on a dreary Saturday and head down to St. Edward's just to say hi. It was a humbling experience, and I was overjoyed to see some friendly faces in a room full of strangers.

Dom even brought Matador and Rainbow, which was totally unnecessary given the logistics but also such a delight. Matador is becoming more aware that his old man writes books, so I was happy he got the opportunity to see me out in the world hustling to pay for his college.

Austin has such a great mix of people, from the young kids studying at St. Ed's to the comics fans looking for something fresh, from the lookie-loos to the ones buying everything in sight. I spoke to people I would never have met in my normal life, and after a while, I started taking notes.

There was Gray Shirt Dude who bought a copy of House of Nepenthe. Young Kid picked up Bartering Nola because he was interested in inter-dimensional travel. John from Portland loved the simulation aspect of Hybrid Mechanics and purchased it despite my admonishment for ever moving away from Portland.

There was a nice Blonde Lady and Husband who were both mystery fans and whose eyes lit up when I described Vise Manor. And there was Rosalind, who connected with House of Nepenthe more deeply than I expected. It wasn't until I'd handed over the book that she revealed she was a former hospice worker, so the story of a man trying to reach out from his death bed resonated with her personal experience.

While there was definitely a sales aspect to these conversations, I did enjoy the micro-connections of talking to someone about books they loved, sharing in that reverence for a well-written story and compelling characters and twists you never saw coming. In a LinkedIn context, the conversation wasn't so much establishing yourself as a thought leader but rather showing you are just as much a fan of books as they are, and that the love of a good story is infused in every book I write.

The Reckoning

It's amazing how much you can learn in a day. When the doors opened at noon on Sunday, I felt infinitely better prepared to meet the crowd. And though my neighbors warned me that the second day was sometimes a letdown, I ended up doubling my sales from the previous day. It's hard to say how that happened. Was it that I'd rearranged my table so people could see the book covers and taglines on the back? Was it that my pitch had refined itself into quick, enticing descriptions of each book with enough self-deprecation and anti-Trump sentiment to choke a small horse? Or was it that I'd ditched the button-up for a simple gray t-shirt, and was therefore 10x more comfortable in my own skin?

When it comes to final numbers, I sold about half of the inventory I brought, which was a lot higher than the single copy I was hoping for. Not only that, I gained invaluable experience talking directly to people reading science fiction, and those conversations will not only inform the signage at my next in-person event, but also the marketing efforts I'll be making to launch House of Nepenthe in June. It's completely possible I never really understood how to sell books to people. And now... an improvement, however slight, is still an improvement.

I can't believe how nervous I was in the months leading up to what was, at the time, one of the most exhausting experiences I'd ever had. Who has time to be anxious when you're on your feet for seven hours pitching the dopest erotic dystopian cyber-thrillers this side of the Mississippi? Despite the heat in the air and pain in my feet, I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else in the world than standing in front of those strangers asking them to love me.

As we were closing things up on Sunday evening, the question I heard most often from the other exhibitors was did you make your table back? It cost $160 to table at STAPLE this year, and though I spent many times more than that buying inventory, making signs, and acquiring all the crates and carts to transport said inventory and signs, it was never about the money. For twenty years, it has never been about the money. I'd like it to be. I hope one day it is. But for now, events like STAPLE are for one thing only: a new experience.

Because what got me to the table that first day wasn't the desire to be a best-selling author, or the desire to make a fool of myself in front of strangers, or even some misguided attempt to prove I belonged. It was a simple phrase I've come to adopt more the older I get, which is:

Fuck it. Never done this before.

The Thanks

My sincere thanks to everyone who stopped by my table. Meeting a bunch of new people is not something I normally do, but in this context, where being self-serving was basically the whole point, it was surprisingly awesome. And thanks to my friends and family for stopping by and showing me a friendly face. Y'all continue to show up for me book after book, and it means a lot.

And my poor Dom, who bravely took on the task of entertaining our children all weekend, only to have me disappear for another five days for jury duty... thank you.