Think again. The truth is, if your publisher thinks celebration at all, it might be to the extent of dipping into the petty cash drawer and ponying up enough cash to pay for a round of drinks for a very select group of friends at the neighborhood tavern. In my case, for instance, the only book party I ever had was given at my editor's apartment -- which she shared with two roommates -- while the publisher kicked in barely enough to pay for half a keg of beer and a few bottles of cheap wine.

"What this has to do with writing is beyond me."
But if your publisher believes they have a potential hit on their hands, well, that's a different story. The book party becomes yet another tool to help sell the book and often the gala winds up being talked about in newspaper gossip columns and attracts the requisite number of celebrities to make it an event. Take, for instance, the party tossed some years ago for Po Bronson's financial satire, Bombardiers. Given at an eatery cleverly located a stone's throw from Wall Street, some canny publicist came up with the novel idea of offering those in attendance "futures" on the book. The bottom line: if the book sold more than 40,000 copies and you held one of those futures, you'd make a couple of bucks (literally, just a couple-after all, publishers aren't crazy).

No doubt in a further effort to hype sales, Bronson, who ,from his book jacket photo, resembles a young Richard Gere, suddenly appeared in a Saks Fifth Avenue catalogue hawking fine looking men's apparel. What this has to do with writing is beyond me.

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