The Magnanimous Moocher
by Richard Ide

They sidle up to you, a knowing smile on that uplifted face: “Unh—I hear you wrote a book?” Yep, sure did. “Well—what’s it about?” You give them your ‘elevator pitch,’ the telling phrase or two you’ve concocted for the curious. There’s a breathless gasp, a series of ooo’s and ahhh’s and the predictable rejoinder, “Oh yeah, sounds really great! You going to let me read it?”

Now here is where the rubber meets the road (or where the book spine cracks and snaps when the covers are too roughly bent back). The question has been deftly advanced by the interrogator, and the interrogee (the author) will be—it is hoped—set so far off balance with the boldness of this request that a copy of the volume in question will be handed over on the spot. In the wistful eye of the book moocher there is the promise of an explosive read, a treatment that will propel your work—beyond even the reaches of Publishers Weekly and the Book Section of the New York Times—to fame and glory. Here stands a willing reader whom you cannot possibly ignore.

Notice there has been no mention of money changing hands. That’s the last thing in your benefactor’s mind; and certainly you are not going to embarrass yourself reducing literary status to that of the aggressive street beggar demanding coins be clinked into his cup. A reflective afternoon has been changed to a nasty run-in: here stands your newest fan, a potential disseminator of glad tidings—whose tortured expression now hints equally of a willingness to vilify your work should you not fork over a gift copy.

Okay…all right, so I donated the copy—fool that I was—swearing it would be the last time I did so.

I must stop here and thank all the columnists, publicity people, and reporters who wrote article after article about “3 ACES.” Without them, I would not have enjoyed a brisk several months of sales…with special thanks to the Barnes & Noble University Store and the local department store, Fitze’s, who sponsored book signings. And thanks to all those who bought books, coming up to me later with a wink and a smile, telling me how much they’d enjoyed reading about the dual worlds (trucking and Vietnam) that most of them had known precious little of.

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Yet, what to do with the occasional book moocher? Kicking the problem around at a writers’ convention, it seemed I’d not been the lone ranger. I had never considered the fact that many people think that all writers are rich, don’t give a hang about money, and are furnished by their publishers with a truckload of books to give away as publicity. Not an item of that being true, I discovered you must tell the moocher so—sometimes in no uncertain terms! I’ve gone so far as to point out to some that I must pay the wholesale cost of any books obtained from the publisher—and that cost is the full selling price of the book minus a modest discount, a fact most people are totally unaware of. And if you happen to be your own publisher, you are literally giving away all your costs of editing, cover art, printing, shipping, and payment for the years of work you invested in writing the book, a TOTAL LOSS every time you give away a copy of your book!

It’s also important to see that your local library has a copy on the shelves, even if it comes down to donating one. What can the moochers say when you recommend them to the public library? But what of the seriously ill, who can’t otherwise get to the library or a bookstore—and, truly, there are always a few such unfortunates. For them, I reserve one copy on my shelf, passing that copy on down the waiting list as it is returned to me.

“What’s that? You say you want to read a copy of my new book—that you know I’ve got a bunch of free copies lying around the office?”

Oh, for Pete’s sake—get lost.

Thanks for the essay Richard... J. Wolf

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