“I think everybody should get rich and famous and get everything they dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.”

— Jim Carrey

For $7,000, I received literary immorality. Sadly, it has nothing to do with the books I've written, nor my countless newspaper, magazine and blog columns.

It’s because Margaret Atwood didn’t kill me.

Confused?

Years ago, I bid $7,000 at an auction for the charitable non-profit Walrus Foundation to have my name in one of Margaret Atwood’s novels The Year of the Flood.

I won! Yay me… (I promised myself I wouldn’t buy shoes for the next two years at the time, something to keep in mind as you read this.)

For $7,000, my name would be in one of my all-time favourite authors’ novels. Then again, for $7,000, I was also giving up control of my name. (With her imagination, I should have been as scared as a husband who realizes from his wife’s expression that he’d forgotten their anniversary!)

When the book finally arrived, I quickly started reading the book skimmed the pages for my name.

I first found it on page 30, where “Rebecca Eckler” is working for a cruel, malicious manager at a chain called SecretBurgers.

“The secret of SecretBurgers was that no one knew what sort of animal protein was actually in them,” Atwood writes.

“Praise the Lord and spit. I’m too black and ugly for him . . .” is one of Rebecca Eckler’s first quotes.

There you have it! In The Year of the Flood, Rebecca Eckler is no longer small, neurotic, and Jewish.

Then, two pages later? THIS: “Worse, Rebecca had gone away, no one knew exactly where. Off with some religious group, said the street rumour.”

I thought, “Well, THAT was the quickest $7,000 I had ever spent.” (Sometimes, it seems I just breathe and manage to spend $150.)

$7,000 is a lot of money, especially for writers these days.

Atwood gave me one heads-up: “You don’t die, which is always a good thing.”

(Fun fact: I also had a cameo, playing myself, in the 2005 rom-com Cake, starring Sandra Oh, Heather Graham, Cheryl Hines, and Taye Diggs.)

Was this what Atwood meant by me not dying? I just vanish? (Like book advances? Sorry, couldn’t help it!)

My name is actually peppered throughout Atwood’s novel. I felt the same sort of jolt every time I saw my name, like I get when strangers start talking to me about my life, which you can read about here later.

Whenever I saw my name in Atwood’s 400 page-novel, I was all like, “There’s my name! Wait, what? I made turnip pie?” And, “There’s my name! Wait, what? I helped kill someone?” And, “Wait What? Did I really just say, ‘Once he’s stuck his pole in some hole, he thinks it’s his?’”

Obvs, I’m a huge fan! What an imagination. What a storyteller! I’ve read and re-read all her novels and short stories. I have a portrait of her in one of my washrooms, so guests will get inspired by someone who’s been described as “among the most brilliant writers of English!

I’m also a fan of her personality — so quick with the comebacks! So witty! Self-deprecating! So quirky!

At one point, it seems, I actually treated Peggy as a friend, my therapist, my doctor, and my astrologer.

As I wrote in this piece, “I send Peggy emails about boy troubles,” to which she responds, “My goodness, why don’t you just send him an email and be done with it?” (#badass)

I also told Peggy I was stung by a bee pumping gas — maybe the one downfall of not wearing underwear (which I don’t).

“Oh dear. Public gas station? It may not have been a bee,” Peggy responded. “Maybe a wasp? There are many kinds. May not have been a honeybee, if bee. Did you keep its tiny corpse?” (#witty)

When I was looking for my name in the middle of reading The Year of the Flood, I sent her an email saying how much I was loving it. “Well, that’s very nice to hear…could NOT be because you’re in it!” she responded. (#quickwit)

I’ll be honest: I had been worried that Peggy would be pissed that I won this honour. “Rebecca Eckler” is kind of a hard name to drop into dystopian masterpieces.

“Rebecca gives good quotes. She doesn’t tell too much. She’s discreet. Unlike you, she doesn’t tell people everything,” is how Atwood described my character to me. (I tell her that I really don’t tell people even half of everything.)

Luckily for Atwood, “Rebecca” is a Biblical name, fitting for this novel. But “Eckler? “It’s a fine name,” she said.

Allow me to digress about authors and money — yes, prepare to squirm — before I get back to our beloved Atwood.

I know one writer — whose prose I quite enjoy — who very recently signed a book deal for….$0.

Z.E.R.O. That’s right. Nada. Nothing. Not only that, their book comes out in 2024(!) and they still, evidently, have to split some of their book sales with the publisher.

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a published author and to see my book in a bookstore. Now I can say that my lifelong dream is coming true!!” this author shared on social.

I’m really proud of this writer, who’s in her 40s. Their lifelong dream IS coming true! I truly hope their book sells a million copies. (Also thinking, “Don’t quit your day job just yet!)

I don’t want to be the one to burst any author’s bubble by saying that most books don't succeed. With little to no publicity, these days, chances are your book isn't going to sell well. (And won’t we all be reading, by then, off some sort of electronic device with hologram pop-ups? Will bookstores even be around in two years?)

I always ask the writers I consult to be completely candid. I ask, “What truly is your motivation for wanting to write and publish a book?” reminding them that “there is no wrong answer — this is confidential, and this is not a pop quiz!”

Almost all tell me they’ve been told by their friends that they should write a book, or they believe they have a book in them and their story is original, or it’s been a lifelong dream — all valid reasons.

However, when pressed, most want to be able to say, “I published a book. It’s in bookstores.” And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Almost everyone who comes to me for help hopes to secure a deal with a big traditional publishing house and scoffs at self-publishing, or hybrid publishing, as if self-publishing makes them less legit.

When I know their motivation — whether they truly want to help people with their story or whether they just want some fame — then I know how to help them.

I explain why, in some cases, it may be better to self-publish or work with a hybrid press. (Unless they’re okay with that pile of receipts so thick it could be a teeny book about why they’re broke…)

I’m going to use this nutritionist I may or may not be working with (confidentiality clause) who runs Saturday afternoon “retreats” throughout the year, helping new mothers lose baby weight in an efficient, healthy way and keep it off.

During our first free consultation, I told the nutritionist to get out of any contract they signed with their agent. Once that was out of the way, I told them to send me their manuscript. I also gave them a half-hour pep talk.

New authors need a personal yet objective cheerleader. Being rejected by someone you like hurts, but it’s like having a paper cut in comparison to the pain of your book being rejected by every single publishing house, which feels more like someone pouring acid on a third-degree burn.

They made it clear they wanted to help new moms with their method.

When pressed, they did want to make some money. When pressed further, they admitted they wanted to be able to say, “I’m a published author!”

What I’m really trying to pull out of the writers is, “Do you want to make money?” OR “Do you want to be able to say, ‘I’m a published author?’”

Both answers are equally valid! (Sometimes the answer is “both,” but generally it slides to one side or the other.)

This nutritionist’s participants pay $250 for her Saturday session via Zoom. Each session has 50 new moms. She also runs her daily practice, seeing at least 25 patients a week.

This nutritionist had tried with some B.S agent to sell their manuscript to the traditional houses, the big, the mid, and even small independent houses and was universally rejected.

They came to me, frustrated and in tears, wanting to know what to do next, wondering if there even was a “next.”

(Trust me, if you really want to publish a book, all you need is a computer.)

But why write a book if you don't want people to read it, right?

This nutritionist had a finished manuscript that she had spent almost three years writing, only for it to get rejected. I told them I thought publishing their book could lead to more speaking engagements, clients, and media appearances, something they hadn’t thought of. Pandemic or no pandemic, let’s be honest: almost all new mothers want to lose their baby weight quickly.

After hearing me out, they not only weren’t opposed to working with a reasonably priced hybrid press or self-publishing company, they were excited.

I explained that even if a big house had loved their book, it would still take around two years for it to be available, plus their advance will be nowhere what they imagine, and they’d have to split all royalties /revenue — including print/audio/ebooks/serial rights/movie rights/book clubs/excerpts — with the publisher. (Which, from the publisher’s perspective is fair; they’re taking a risk on authors and paying for all book-related costs, like editing, book design, marketing, sales, proofreading, publicity, distribution, etc.)

But, look at it this my way: If this nutritionist self-published or worked with some sort of hybrid press, they could get their book out within months AND they’d own all the rights and get 100% of sales. Plus, they could print as many copies as they wanted.

Sure, I may always have to start singing the alphabet in my head to know what comes after the letter K, but I am smart enough to know that until the end of time, women will always be getting pregnant and new moms will always want to lose their baby weight.

I knew this nutritionist could easily sell copies to attendees before/during her Saturday sessions from her website, as well as straight out of her office, where it could be placed beside the supplements she sells. And all the revenue would be hers. All. Of. It.

This nutritionist — and soon-to-be author. Woot! — hosts 25 Saturday sessions each year. If she were to sell her book for $20 to the 50 attendees…give me a sec. I need to pull up my handy iPhone calculator — that’s $25,000 a year.

If you add on 300 more clients per year who purchase the book at her office, that would be another $6,000 in sales. And just so you know, this nutritionist was regularly — pre-pandemic — asked to speak at wellness conferences, ranging from 20 to 800 people.

The pandemic will go away. Pregnancy won’t. This is why traditional publishing needs a fucking makeover.

I write here about why publishers want to see your numbers even before reading your book.

But at the time, this nutritionist only had a very basic website. Almost all of her business is via word-of-mouth. I know because I used her after the birth of both my babies; I had gotten her name from a friend, who got her name from her sister-in-law.

This nutritionist, at least in Toronto, is like the high-school drug dealer. Everyone somehow knows who they are.

I give her contact to every new mom I meet, if they ask — and they always ask — how I lost my baby weight.

Which means I would also recommend her book, especially to those who may not be able to afford her services but could afford a $20 book.

As the going wisdom dictates: it only takes 1,000 true fans spending $100/year to earn a salary of $100,000/year.

Even after paying $15,000 to work with a self-publishing company, who did everything to turn her manuscript into an actual book, she’ll still come out making money.

And she’s been using her own method for years, and millions of women give birth every day, so it’s not like her book will stop selling after a year, unless women stop becoming pregnant. (Now, we’re just getting into Margaret Atwood territory!)

Knowing this did feed this nutritionist's ego. They were as thrilled as any author at any-sized traditional publishing house to see the proof copy before it was headed for the printer.

She realized she didn’t need a bookstore to channel that feeling of “fame” or “glory.” Knowing her clients would buy her book and spread the word, just like her business, was enough. Not to mention, she would feel more “powerful” when asked to speak by claiming, rightfully so, that she published a book on this topic.

Recently, I introduced her to a very well-connected publicist who’s whipping a press release as we speak. I have no doubt that I'll see her branded mug on some breakfast show or hear her voice on some podcast soon.

Awards and being on the bestsellers lists all, of course, help sales, but trust me when I say that some of those books may have sold only 250 copies, if even. I’m not kidding.

Read part 2 here to find out what some of these award-winning book sales really look like.