Where are Books Going?

Being a novelist, I've been having an up close and personal time with the publishing industry. It has been a sobering experience. Did you know there are more people in the US who don't read books than those that do? I was shocked. There are millions and millions of people in this country who don't enjoy that wonderful satisfaction of losing yourself in a story. It's one of the great joys of life - up there with sex, sports, games (poker), learning, nature, movies, music and socializing. Especially as you age and sex and athletics are not as accessible, you need as many of those other things as possible to enjoy. When I run out of things to enjoy, pass me the cyanide tablets.

The industry is suffering as a result. Small and medium-sized publishing houses are going under or hanging on by their fingernails. Even Random House is reorganizing itself. The convoluted literary agent system is falling apart. New authors cannot get any traction because the large houses only want to invest in less risky books such as Stephen King or Nelson DeMille (the author whom many of my readers say my style is most similar too). Who can blame them, they need to feed their kids.

Its always been a business, of course, but now its been taken to a new level. Editors want you to have a diverse set of characters to attract a larger pool of likely readers. They want you to set the book in cities that have a larger reader base such as Seattle. They want very happy endings. They want the book to mimic some past best seller. And I understand all this. But where is it leading? Unfortunately, to boring sex -- mediocrity between the covers.

Now if some new, talented and clever author publishes a great novel with a small press, it is almost guaranteed to be the tree falling in the forest. It won't get reviewed. It won't get promoted. It doesn't really exist because no one will read it because no one will know about it. The author won't write anymore books because she'll have to feed her kids as well. A sad, sad state of affairs.

But I'm an optimistic person and I think things will shake out for the better in time. Its hard to predict what will happen, but it is clear that all books will eventually be "published on demand." Why spend big bucks on large printing runs when those books have to be inventoried (more $), They need to be shipped and returned if not sold ($). Plus they use trees and energy in large quantities. You will also select the form you want to experience the book. "Download to your Ipod - click here." "Download to your eBook reader - click here." "Print a copy and send - click here." Hey, I do it myself. But I'm a pioneer. My ancestors where pioneers from Latvia. It's in my genes.

I just hope a clear way materializes that allows good books to rise to the forefront. I'm so tired of seeing these "lowest common denominator" books on sale everywhere. If some alien came to this country and perused our book scene they would probably think that only a few hundred books are published a year. But in fact, 300,000 are published.

Oh and you guys out there. Start reading! Women make up 75% of the book buyers (and presumably readers) in this country. Poker and football are great, but sometimes there is nothing better than reading a good story that you just can't put down. Not as good as great sex, but believe-it-or-not, its close.

Rich and Poor

As the holiday season is roaring through as it seems to every year, I find myself thinking about goals, life and the "big picture."

Sure its great to be rich I suppose, but it seems that so many people who achieve that distinction fall short in the happiness area. I often wonder why that is. Millionaires committing suicide. Lottery winners years later wishing they never won. What the heck is at work here? I thought vast riches make us happy. The Great American Dream. etc. etc.

Riches seem to be but one piece of the puzzle -- and maybe not even that. Of course we need enough money to cover our basic needs plus a little. But it is also critical that we pursue honesty, credibility and fairness in our everyday life. Hey, it's Christmas, what the heck did you expect me to say. I can't help it if its true as well.

Poker forces you to wear your opponents shoes. What makes him tick? What is his tolerance for risk? Is he capable of deception? Does he care about money? (You'd be surprised how many people there are like Fred Stallworth who have little regard for the green stuff.) Sometimes I feel like I'm transcending their souls. I'm so attuned to my opponents view of the world that I feel as if I am them. I play like them. I adopt their tendencies. I can read their minds for god sake! That, my friends is "the zone" of the poker world. It doesn't happen often, but when it occurs its magical. My cards are very secondary. Often I won't even look at them. I find it happening the most in tournaments when I'm at the table with a similar group of people over a long period of time -- six or more hours.

So this got me thinking of the famous UltimateBet program that could read other peoples hands. Russ Hamilton alledgedly used it to fleece millions from online players. Now he must live within a community (the poker player world is fairly tight knit) where he'll be despised. Are those illgotten gains going to be worth the hatred he'll be facing in heeps? If I was granted the power of seeing my opponents hands, would I want it? Gone is the excitement of making a great read. Gone would be the adrenaline rush of winning a big tournament. Guilt would permeate. Poker for me would lose much of its appeal. Gone is the satisfaction of winning a fair fight. Gone is the deserved respect from your peers.

Ask yourself what wish you'd make if you were granted one by Leroy the magical dealer. Would you want to live forever? Not me; who would want to outlive their kids. Would you ask for $10 billion? Too much responsibility. Keep it. The power to heal the sick with a touch? They'd be breaking my door down. When it comes down to it; Leibniz may have been onto something; "we live in the best of all possible worlds." We can't truly enjoy the happy unless we get a dose of pain as Plato tells us. That seems to be the way the world works. Maybe pursuit of a pampered life isn't what we want after all. Maybe we need discomfort to feel alive. We need challenge to keep us going. Maybe we need to focus outward rather than on ourselves. Feed our primitive mind. Maybe Willie was on to something.

But, hey, what do I know. I'm just a poker player.

Xmas at the Table

Christmas is a special time of the year. Songs. Trees. Giving - especially at the poker table. I've been running a little cold lately. Nothing horrible, (not as bad as Utah in Las Vegas) just not picking up cards at the right time. So yesterday I was getting more of the same. Fold. Fold. Fold. I patiently waited for a playable and payable hand. The problem was that everyone else at the table knew what I was doing. That's when you can get into a really bad run. When you finally do get the damn cards, everyone folds. So it is absolutely necessary to your poker well being to continue to mix it up. But now instead of playing weaker hands 20% of the time, I'm now down to 10%. (I explain all this more fully in my step poker course system which is coming out in late January or early February) Since I'm in a regular 5/10 No Limit game and most of the players are good, they have a good sense of where I'm at. Thank god (which is what we are suppose to do this time of year) there are a few players I haven't played with before. And one of them, I'll call him Santa, gives me a wonderful Christmas gift. The poker elves give me a few gifts as well.

So I limp in with A9 of hearts in second position after the "under-the-gun" guy, Santa, calls. A few other guys call. The flop comes out 8, 7, 5 with two hearts. Santa bets $60. I make it $160. The next guy to act takes a few minutes, looks at me, then folds. Thank-you very much; I'm looking to get heads up or take it down right here. (He claimed to have laid down a set of fives, but I find that hard to believe.) Santa calls. The turn is a beautiful jack of hearts. So beautiful. Gift #1. Santa checks. I don't put him on a set or two pair, so I check as well, hoping he hits something. A gorgeous black six comes on the river making a four liner. Gift #2. Mr. Claus bets out $250. Gift #3. I sit and contemplate my options. I only have $705 left, so a min raise would look kinda silly. I figured, I'd go all in and try to make it look like a steal. He'd call if he had a straight I figured or rather hoped. Santa calls instantly with two pair. With a four liner on board and three hearts, he called with two pair! Gift #4. Merry, merry Christmas.

The poker Christmas gods give and they taketh away. After this hand, I'm card and bluff dead for several hours. Then I get top two pair on a rainbow flop of 10, 9, 3. I bet $30 into a pot of $35. I get two callers. An ace comes on the turn and I'm ready to take it down right now. I bet $125 into a pot of $125. One fellow calls me. I put him on QJ or a medium 10. An innocuous-looking 6 comes on the river. I bet out $150. He raises me to $400. I too-quickly call and he shows the 7/8. That's the problem with playing with weak players. He called $125 on the turn knowing he had only 8 outs. I'll take that call every time. I really shouldn't have called the river. I was hoping he hit his 10/6 (But would he really raise me with a 10/6 with that board?). It wasn't a bluff situation and his bet was not a bluff-sized bet. My turn to be Santa Claus. Hey, It's the season of giving.

Merry Christmas everybody!

Fighting a Bad Streak

At times it feels the world just doesn't like you. Here take that - your car breaks down - and that - my course geek turns out to be a brick and I need to start again with a new guy - and an upper cut to the jaw - weather cancels my promo trip and money twirls down the drain. I hit a dry spell at the tables just as my expenses mount. As you can see, I've been having one of those bad runs. And like poker, you need to stick it out. Keep your loses to a minimum. My three month old son smiles at me as I pick him up this snowy morning. Stay focused on what is important.

I'll always remember an interview with a WWII vet, Frank, who went back to visit the battlefield in France where, in 1944, he was assigned to sit in a foxhole and wait for the Nazis to pass by. Then he and the other foxholers would sneak out at night and attack their rear. Well things went horribly bad and a gang of Nazis discovered the ploy and were going from foxhole to foxhole and unloading seven or eight shots into the heads of each American G.I. Imagine what Frank felt as he saw and heard each of his buddies plead for their lives as they raised their hands in surrender and then be cold -bloodedly killed. There was no escape. When they got to Frank's fox hole, he stood and raised his hands as his comrades did. The Nazi pointed his gun at him, then smiled. He did not fire. He just inexplicably threw the camouflage netting back over the hole. That night, Frank snuck into the woods and made his way back to the American camp.

Frank was now in his late 70s and he said since that time when he had accepted his inevitable death, nothing can ever get him down. Nothing is as bad as it seems. Everything passes. Money is only money. A career is only a career. If there is love and respect, relationships can be repaired.

Poker is good training for adopting Frank's enlightened outlook of the world. Some stretches you just can't win no matter what you do. The cards are against you and there is nothing you can do about it. You need to get through it the best you can- minimize your losses. Easier said than done as your bankroll dwindles and you wonder how you are going to make rent next month. Then it happens. In one magical hand, all the despondency of the past is washed away. It's like the past never happened. You're back on your feet again.

Utah reached those depths of despair. He hit bottom and lost faith in his quest. But he cleansed himself mentally and reawoke with a soldier's mentality. As Edna said, "Don't give up. Don't ever give up."

Omaha. Here I come. Nope.

I'm suppose to be on a plane right now. A plane to Omaha. Why am I sitting here in front of my computer and not on a plane to Omaha? The Hartford airport is gridlocked. I somehow got bumped ( I guess I don't rate with Delta) and there is craziness there with a big winter storm coming in later this morning.

It's really too bad. The Omaha Public Library had me scheduled for a while and gave me a big spot on their web site (see event posting). I was also suppose to be at Harrah's and a bookstore. But when it snows it snows. I hope they understand my predicament. Maybe we can reschedule. So it looks like I'll be working from home today, building my online poker courses, scheduling future events, making a few calls and emails etc. etc. . And of course, the snowed in day will allow me to have some good time with my 2 year old daughter and my 3 month old son. Maybe it's god's way of telling me to slow down and enjoy the simple and truly important things in life. Utah and Willie would approve.

Five Diamond Classic at Bellagio

Poker tournaments require a significant time commitment. Usually a couple of days. Since I had to do various book promo activities, I could only fit one event into my schedule. I played in the $1500 buy-in event on Wednesday, December 9th. I show up ready to go and scope the 168 player field. Not many pros. I only see a couple. I weave my way to my table and amazingly enough the most well-known player in the room is seated right next to me. It's Humberto Brenes. You may have seen him on TV. He's the crazy Costa Rican who likes to chat, laugh, wear funny hats and make fun with his little toy shark. Well the shark wasn't there, but Humberto was his usual animated self. I've played with him a few times in the past and he seemed as surprised to see me on his right as I was to see him on my left. Damn, what a horrible spot. Anyway, I play my usual game. I mix it up early with a bunch of raises when the risk is low. And everytime I do, Humberto gives me a suspicious smile. "You play a lot of pots, my friend," he says to me on more than one occasion. I smile back and show him a few of my hands after everyone has folded. Of course I only show the good hands. "Sure, this time you have something," he says. I fell into his trap of showing even those hands. I knew he was looking for information.

A quarter of the way into the tournament, Humerto starts hitting a bunch of flops. Bang, he nails a straight on some dude who goes all in against him. "I call," he says sheepishly as he scoops the pot with his monster. Now the worst has happened, a great player (I love his game) is on my left and has a huge chip stack. I now have to slow down as he calls or reraises me just about every time I enter the pot.

As we approach the halfway point, I hit a cold patch and my stack has dwindled. I have probably 80% of the average stack. I know I needed to keep my fold equity solid. Unfortunately, I bluffed a bit more than I normally like to due to my card dead status and I know Brenes has me pegged as a loose player. Finally I get KK in early position. The first guy straight calls the big blind. I think long and slow. "How best to maximize my situation," I ponder. I have the perfect table image at this point. My objective is to raise enough to get one or two callers. Then if no ace comes on the flop, I'd go all in -- the standard play. I raise to three and half times the big blind. Humberto immediately goes all in. The field folds around to me. "If you got aces, you got aces," I say as I slam the rest of my chips into the pot and flip over my cowboys. "I thought you bluffing again," he says as he turns over Ace - King. But he's all smiles as he shakes my hand and says, "Very nice. Very nice." His smile slips away as the flop, turn and river fail to produce an ace and his chip stack takes a substantial hit. Now he can't stop talking about the hand. "You bluff too much. I don't think you have anything," he says to no one in particular.

Prior to that hand he had won numerous pots, but Humberto doesn't like to lose. "He bluff too much," he repeats to the dealer. But before you can say "Costa Rican on tilt" (I was hoping he was, but he wasn't). He wipes out a player with two pair and takes out another with his own pocket kings. Again I get nothing for an hour or so. I try to steal, but get caught each time. Now we are down to 55 players. I'm down to 40% of the average chip stack and the blinds are huge. I got maybe two and half rotations left. In middle position, I see an ace as my first card and make what I hope is an ominous raise for half my chips. Brenes calls immediately. The flop is King - Ten - Four. I immediately go all in hoping he folds. Would you believe it, he's got pocket aces for about the fourth time. I flip over my Ace/Five. Needless to say I'm out of the tournament. Humberto is very gracious. He stands and gives me a warm handshake and a shoulder shrug. Whattayagonna do.

Humberto is one of those players I love to play with. The man loves life. He's always having fun and he is so good. I definitely picked up a few moves watching him play. Wouldn't you know it, he went on to win the tournament. Good job Mr. Brenes. It couldn't happen to nicer guy.

Las Vegas Trip

Last week I was in the sin city, the second biggest gambling town on the planet (Macau is #1). I was there to do some book signings, play in some events at the Five Diamond Classic at the Bellagio and generally do whatever (within reason) to get some visibility for the 'ol book.

The tournament and cash poker action was very interesting. Dorothy, I knew I wasn't in Connecticut anymore. They play a different kind of poker out here. I mean I should be used to it, I've played in Las Vegas near a dozen times, but it seemed different this time around. Like Fred Stallworth, there were a lot of characters out there who didn't seem to care a lick about money. Anyway, I'll get into the poker side of things in a later entry. Here I wanted to talk about my very first book signing.

The book has only been out for a few months, so I asked other authors and so-called industry professionals about how you get people to read your tome. The old timers all said that you needed to do a book tour and set up book signings in various cities. So I naively asked, "Doesn't the publisher help with that?" The response was usually a hearty laugh. For all you aspiring authors out there, let me give you some inside dope; the publishers do nothing! Oh sure, they'll get it listed in various places and maybe help with distribution. But unless you're John Grisham or Stephen King, they essentially say; "You're on your own bub. Go get 'em."

So, I make a few bucks in my regular 5/10 no limit game and go find myself a publicist. She's a busy little bee contacting the casinos and bookstores and libraries in that desert town. Finally she lands gigs at the Tropicana, the oldest casino on the strip (but whose complaining) and the Gamblers General Store.

Now Vegas is not a place where people are going to file into a room and sit down calmly and listen to a quaint little lecture by yours truly and ask quaint little questions about my book while they sip tea with their pinky extended. No, in Vegas everyone wants to PARTY! So my bookish little publicist was shocked (utterly) when no one wanted to sit down at her little event. They came. They looked around. Not seeing any naked dancing girls, they left. There was one exception. This man in his mid 60s stopped by, sat next to me and said, "What's this here poker all about?" I, having nothing better to do, so I take out a deck of cards and showed him the basics. The man had on a big tan cowboy hat, a mustache and a long braided ponytail. He was a Navajo Indian. He talked slow and gave me a stare which I read as either, "I know all this already -- move on, move on;" or "What the hay are you talkin' about pale face?" This guy could be a good poker player.

I find out the guy is from some small town in northeast Arizona called Dead Cat or some such thing. He had never left his ranch in the last 30 years. He decided to drive the 14 hours to Las Vegas because, for the first time, two Navajos had made it to the rodeo championship which was in town that weekend. That explained all the cowboy hats, the occasional YEE HA and the bowlegged walkers in town. Anyway, I had a lot of fun listening to the old guy (I should talk) and teachin' him poker.

My jitery publicist would occasionally stop by and pull me away to meet some disinterested diners. You see, they put us in the Garden Cafe which is way in the back of the hotel and they set up our "event" all the way in the back of the restaurant. So foot traffic was a problem. Also, considering the poor economy which the casinos are feeling big time, my poor publicist had decided I should show up at people's table as they ate their breakfast in order to drum up business. Not a good idea. Morning is not a good time for Las Vegans. "Hi, this is Neal Gersony. He is an author and a professional poker player," she said to the overweight guest as he shoveled pitchforks of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He'd freeze and slowly turn his joweled face my way as yellow goo dripped from his chin. "So whaddya want me to do about it?" he was obviously thinking. After a half dozen more futile attempts. "Oh we just here fo' the Jackson family reunion. You best be gettin' along now. Ya hear." I snuck away back to my Indian friend.

Did you know that the Navajos are the largest native American tribe in the US? I ordered some breakfast for my new buddy and chatted the morning away. I signed and sold a few books, not many, but a few.

First Blog Entry

Here is the first, the number one , numero uno entry for my spankin' new blog. I intend to fill these pages with info about my professions (poker and writer and entrepreneur). Hopefully I'll do it in such a way that will make your bleak days bright and your bright days dark. I'd say I'm a humorist, but doing so would be like saying I smell really great when everyone knows you can't smell yourself.

All seriousness aside folks, my book, Poker Slam, may come up once in a great while. (More info at www.PokerSlamU.com) But really I'm more looking forward to talking about my next book which is in the thinking stage -- i.e. I'm thinking about it and haven't wrote a damn thing down yet. Input is always very very welcome. Why waste time thinking up something new when people send me their ideas for free? So keep those cards and letters coming in. I'm at ngersony(at)gmail.com.

I guess the tradition for blogs is to vary your topics of discussion. So sometimes I'll be analyzing my high stakes no limit poker hands that either cracked me or cracked them. Other times I'll be talking about interesting things that happened to me on the road. I recently got back from a one week stint in Las Vegas. I picked up some good stuff in that town (or bad stuff depending on your point of view). A recap of that trip will be forthcoming soon. I won't be talking much about my book, but I do regular radio interviews, so I'll keep you up-to-date on upcoming ones so you can be sure to listen in. Of course I'll be giving you the unfiltered inside scoop on what I'm experiencing as a first time author -- novelist. Hope you find this blog entertaining that is all that is meant to be.

I look forward to sharing, not baring, all with you all.