The interview was done via e-mail. All questions were sent to Julie at once, and she typed up her answers and sent ‘em back.

Grab a beverage. This is a long post.

Enjoy.

Julie: I wouldn’t say I’m a visionary, because I’m still of the old school where follow-through is everything. Which is ridiculous, because at some point I learned to start calling myself a writer even if I’m not being published. I’m definitely a dreamer. Maybe a sounder-outer? Anyone who’s talked with me knows I go off a lot. Not the same as sounding off, which I also do from time to time. But like any writer, I suppose, I need to edit. So I sound things out. A lot gets tossed aside. And of late I’ve been incredibly lucky to have found a group of people in, or on the peripheries of publishing, who seem to genuinely appreciate that process.

Photo by Carl W. Heindl

And, of course, my thing is community. Not so much solidarity and all that, but the need for a lot of people to each perform a little task so that together we can mark a larger space. Sometimes, I’m happy to perform that little task alone. In the past year or so, however, I’ve wanted to be at the forefront. I think both roles indicate leadership. But it’s not like once we’re all airborne I have a clue as to how we’ll stay up, or where the landing strip is, for that matter. I was on a Porter flight with Nic Boshart heading to BookCamp Halifax, and as we were landing he started laughing about how bizarre it is that we ever thought we could get, and keep, a however-many-ton craft in air using some fans. Let’s just say that I spend a lot of time cursing once I get my own crafts off the ground.

Oh! You know what I am?! An only child.

Beyond that, I like supporting good people with good ideas. I support action. I support change. I support walking away. I wish more people would.

Or, to answer the question you as possibly intended, I’m a writer and author/book promoter who has managed to secure just enough clients that I get to work only with people I admire in areas of reputation management, visibility, and discovera…

Fuck it, I’m Aquaman. Next question.

Q: Where did the name Book Madam come from?

Julie: I was running an online contest with Indigo, then McNally Robinson. Just a wee thing. I was offering my services as a personal book shopper. The contest ran on Twitter, so I asked entrants to submit a short bio in ten words. From there, I boasted that I’d “hook” them up with a book. I decided to create a separate feed for the contest, and solicited names. A number of people really liked the intimacy of being “hooked up”, so the shortlist was created pretty quickly. Frankly, I wanted Book Daddy. But I think it was Jaime Woo who landed on Book Madam. (No ‘e’.)

At first, it took some time to take myself seriously. But I loved the idea of a Madam learning about your tastes and then guiding you to Door #2 and the hope that the reader would come away satisfied. This is what hand selling is all about. And reader services, for that matter. Listening to a person in the hope that you can help them get what they want. And now that we have The Associates in place at BookMadam.com, with more to come, I really feel that we’ve hit upon something, a place where online visitors can go and pick and choose from a variety of blog posts and personalities to suit your every need. We’re all also quite social beings. We feel very much of this community.

Ultimately, though, in choosing each Associate, I wanted individuals who also had other skill sets or unique identities. I know it sounds silly, but I love, for instance, that Kimberly Walsh knows so much about dachshunds, or that Sean Cranbury knows so much about music, or that Nic Boshart does those insane MS Paint cartoons (not to mention that he’s also a publisher), and so on. Publishing is about stories, and I believe that the things each Associate shares, or even the way in which they share them, echoes that whole idea that it’s not so much the story as how it’s told. And I really dig these guys. I like hanging out with them. They bring a lot to my world. (That’s right! F@ck you, Cranbury!) (Little inside joke there.)

Q: Would you agree with the estimation that you are becoming an internet celebrity?

Julie: Good god, man, for real? I’ll concede that in a wee corner of this industry there are people who know of me and there have been times when I can see something in their eyes when we finally meet that makes me wish I’d tried a little harder with my hair that day. I had that experience recently with an author, and it kind of blew me away. Her face completely lit up and, for a second, I found myself thinking, “Oh, this is awkward. Poor thing thinks I’m someone else.” But, no; she was just really happy to see me. But I’m a person who doesn’t play it very close to the chest in a highly competitive industry. People are constantly telling me to stop sounding out my ideas. But, so far, every time I have has lead to a new opportunity or conversation. So, to that end, I’m not so much a celebrity as I am a person who has had the tremendous good fortune to get to know a lot of people I tend to connect with. Then again, now that everyone knows I’m Aquaman, I may have to change my phone number.

Q: How have books come to be such important part of your life?

Here’s the thing. I’m not well-read. I’m trying to change that. I have a hard time keeping focus. I don’t know if it’s anything beyond the usual response to a fast-paced world, but I still haven’t found the Off switch that shuts out the world, no matter where I am, so that I can just sit with a book for a full day, or days on end. Even as a kid, my report cards all said that I was plenty smart but that my lack of focus was holding me back.

In hindsight, I’d argue that I needed something else to focus on. But that feedback extended into university where I was often told that I’d never get the grades to go to teacher’s college (my original plan) or to pursue my Master’s degree (my fall back plan) if I couldn’t produce papers that showed I knew how to research and respond. I’d hand in these philosophical beasts with, like, five support titles. As long as I can remember, the “real work” has always gotten in the way of “what I want to do.” See the aforementioned reference to being an only child.

Yet, even if I have trouble reading, I’ve always understood that books were legitimate, socially-acceptable method of effectively being alone with yourself. You might stumble across me in a room sitting alone and staring into space. Put a book in my hand and I’m less creepy. Book as prop has always intrigued me.

Secondary to that, I love the idea of book as social object, the thing around which we conduct all kinds of conversations. Book as vessel also inspires me, although I’m personally more taken by recitation, which may be why I’ve taken to recording poets in my spare time and for clients.

Ultimately, I love books because I want to write them. And as a social being who supports the efforts and visions of her peers, it makes sense that I should want to know more about those whose company I wish to keep. And in those rare moments when I’m capable of focus, there are strings of words that have changed my life. Was it Alice Munro who said that writing was the best way she could imagine being alive in the world? I couldn’t disagree with that. But when the words don’t come, just even the knowledge that someone else found them is one of the greatest gifts I can imagine.

Q: From what I know about you, I get the impression that you wear a number of hats. Is my perception correct? What sorts of things are you involved in, and which of them pay the bills?

Julie: I do a lot of one-offs, so the appearance could be that I’m working with or for a lot of organizations. I suppose I wear a lot of hats in that I don’t have a team, so any time I get myself into something, I’m responsible for producing, managing, and maintaining the project. But I like to think (or hope) that most of it’s part of a rough draft for some larger job description or project or community or something I haven’t yet put my finger on.

For instance, a few years ago, I don’t know that I could have pronounced myself The Book Madam without a solid following for Seen Reading, some professional credibility from my time at House of Anansi Press, and even a little bit of notoriety for doing things like getting my publisher kicked off Facebook for creating a friendship profile for a corporation, and, most certainly, for my small ‘s’ snafu with an Indigo bookseller over copyright protection and whether what I was doing at Seen Reading was in violation of that. I got a lot of public support, including from Indigo Corp, which signaled to me that the time was right.

I had no clue what the plan was, but I went after ECW Press to sign a companion guide to True Blood, the savviest thing I’ve ever done, then turned my attention to my relationship. Would it bear the weight of me leaving my job at Anansi? All signs pointed to yes. And I’d say within minutes of announcing my departure, things started to fall into place, including a guest host gig for the CBC Book Club during Canada Reads. That provided me with a huge platform from which I encouraged bloggers and tweeters to get more involved with the book club, which, in turn, increased my visibility, which, in turn, showed a lot of people that I was genuine. I wasn’t selling anything. Cause I wasn’t making anything.

That’s when I started attracting paying clients. I have a few, and it’s enough that I don’t have to accept everything that comes my way, much of which are requests from authors to help with their publicity, which isn’t exactly what I do. One of my clients pays with grant money. That project centres around creating a poetry performance archive and finding ways to disseminate those recordings. Right up my alley. Another client pays out of pocket to tutor in all matters to do with social media and online reputation management. It’s a great relationship. Very organic considering that it sounds so manufactured. But it’s not. There’s a new game in town: How to appear to be in all the right places, still get your job done, and not leave a social trail that would suggest you’ve been on Twitter all day.

All to say, that I liken entrepreneurial endeavors to trying to feel a breeze on a day on which there’s no wind. It’s only going to happen if you put yourself in motion. And as with most freelancers, paying the bills isn’t the problem so much as having money in place when the bills arrive. (Lots of hurry up and wait.)

Q: Are you doing the sorts of things that you’ve always imagined yourself doing? Did you have a plan of attack?

Julie: I don’t know that I knew it would be books, but I’m not surprised that I’m doing things associated with stories and ideas and social experiments. That’s really exciting for me. Certainly, I feel as if I’m being taken seriously. To be perfectly honest though, I’m still waiting for that one job that pays enough and allows me to let my freak flag fly on behalf of all publishers, books, and authors.

I like the energy rush that comes from being able to play around with ideas of book and author promotion, but it can get exhausting when it’s for a number of different clients. In my perfect world, I’m writing part-time and working in a management role for an organization that has a large enough community that we can measure the impact and pleasure of any number of ideas I have floating above my head. And just enough influence that I can keep myself on the Griffin invite list and get myself back onto the Giller invite list. Hell, if I have to write a shortlisted book, that’s what I’ll do. I’m Aquaman!

Q: What are your thoughts on the whole e-book phenomenon?

Julie: Don’t quote me, but I think we’ll buy more books; non-traditional consumers will start buying books (being able to share them freely will be the key, I’d suspect); but I’m not convinced we see evidence that more people are reading necessarily, although I could be persuaded to believe that younger consumers will teach themselves to be lifelong readers on such devices. And while I don’t think the printed book is going anywhere, I’d like to see something on the effect of e-books and e-reading on older generations. Do you know? Will they stop buying books altogether and commit instead to rereading what they already own?

Not sure where I’m going with this, but issues of access concern me. When my grandmother died, we found a drawer of old Walkmans with the play button depressed. She kept buying new ones because she couldn’t see the buttons well enough to know that she was draining the batteries. This was a woman of very sharp mind. Her senses, however, were another story. I can’t even imagine what she’d do with an e-reader, yet at the time of her death she was probably one of the best read people I’d ever known.

For different reasons, I don’t know where this leaves underprivileged people. It’s not to say that e-books will isolate readers to the farthest corners, but I don’t necessarily see them as social glue either. But while you can be certain we’ll continue to top up our landfills with this new gadget or that, and the media will cover every movement, I’d hate to see the disenfranchised left curbside.

Q: How many of the Canadian BookCamps have you attended, and what sorts of experiences have you had with them?

Julie: I’ve been to the first two camps in Toronto, and the inaugural camps in Vancouver and Halifax. Hey, is that all of them so far? Have I collected the set?

All of the experiences have been great. I go with very low expectations. I don’t rely on the panelists to go for gold. If just one person says one thing that gets me thinking, I’m ecstatic and won’t stop talking about it until I’ve found a release for the idea.

The first year in Toronto was electric. I don’t know that that was repeated this past year. I think that’s a reflection of how far the industry has come in terms of knowing one another online, in person, and what each of us is up to. Last year was like trying to catch fire flies in a jar, there were so many faces to connect with names. It was also much less corporate. Again, I see that as a sign of the success of last year’s camp that the industry understood it had to have a face this year. Where do they go next year? Not sure, but I suspect the way the panels are organized has to change drastically.

That said, people are still talking about the geolocation seminar, a good ol’ fashioned brainstorm session that was led by Ashleigh Gardner who is exceptionally good at knowing how to keep a room enthused and on track. The Toronto team has a really hard task because its demographic is a gong show of personalities and expectations. A big, happy family, mind you. But it must be like trying to plan a wedding. How could you possibly please everyone? They do a tremendous job. I was joking recently that I think the key to future success is to take us out of our comfort zones. In Toronto, that means off the transit lines. Dare we?

Vancouver was a whole other vibe. I was an outsider, so I barely knew anyone by face. I knew Sean Cranbury and Monique Trottier quite well, but had never socialized with them. And I got to see Deanna McFadden from HarperCollins facilitate for the first time, something that I’ll cherish when she’s pulling in $80,000 to speak at annual AGMs about how to stay passionate in the industry.

I feel the same about the first time I saw Sean speak at the first Toronto BookCamp and thought, “Who the hell is this Richard Branson character?” No one knew this guy. Yet he flew in, all chill, and wearing his shorts and shit. I had no idea he was taking as big a chance as I was. Going it alone. He’s such a good guy and a close buddy now. That’s what BookCamp does; it brings the right kind of characters together who otherwise just can’t find the time or opportunity to land on each other’s radar.

It happened again this year in Halifax when I realized just how on the ball Meghan MacDonald is. It took flying to Halifax, out of our comfort zones, for me to see that there could be a way to work together, even if our professional paths don’t collide. And, of course, the lovely Kimberly Walsh proved to be only lovelier, billeting me in her house.

This might all sound airy-fairy, but it’s kind of the point in publishing. Connecting is one thing; but how we connect will determine the future of the industry. There are people who connect just fine on the level of tech and production. I’m not one of those people. So I absolutely need platforms like BookCamp to perform outreach and sit in the same rooms with my peers long enough that if they start out thinking I’m a wing nut, I have time to change their minds by the time we hit the pub. I see it this way: I can’t fish worth shit. Can’t read the waters. Can’t touch a worm. But if you drop my line, I know when to set the hook. That’s all I got! That’s it! I can’t even get the fish into the cooler. So gatherings like this are not only fun, they’re key for people like me with this niche skill set.

Q: I’ve just finished a book called L:and things come apart by Ian Orti, which is like a painting made of words. The way this book is put together, both in terms of the writing and the physical production, make it, to my mind, an objet d’art, something both to read and to hold. Do you think this sort of book is in danger of disappearing, or do small publishers like Invisible have a necessary place in our culture?

Julie: Not only do I think books like this have a place, I think they’ll become hugely popular. As I type this, I’m looking at a chapbook, part of The Pocket Canon Revue put out by Misprints Press, a series that ended a few years ago. The Revue published anonymous authors and was created in part in response to writers who had works that were either deemed unsaleable or fell outside the identity the author was building for him/herself. There may have also been some sexy bits. *titter*

Each edition was launched with a cool party and embodied a real sense of celebration for both product and process. There are books you want to own because they come with something extra. Not hyperlinked text or book club questions. In person, community-driven value. When every bookstore, provided they still exist, is fit with a Print-On-Demand machine of some sort, the consumer will never leave empty-handed, because the bookseller will always have what the consumer wants or needs. To my mind, this means that booksellers will be able to get back to the business, actual business, of selling the books they love, support, and know something about.

That said, while e-readers and e-books will continue to get cheaper, my one concern is that, like Polaroid film, once a staple item in every household, ink and print production materials will become more and more expensive. That said, Invisible is one helluva publisher to watch. I defer to them. I plan to work with them in some way, some day, not only because I think they’re smart and sassy, but because as an author, I’d feel supremely confident that they know how to produce and tag books in ways that will make sure the author’s work is locatable and discoverable no matter what its format. (Pay up, Boshart!)

Q: In your experience, is technology really helping us as much as the pundits tell us it is? Or is everything just moving too fast nowadays?

If I were to look at how many devices I own, I’d be tempted to say that technology is moving too fast. But we know that not to be the case. For instance, I’m sure we’ve already figured out time travel, but now we have to find a palatable way to make the consumer pay for it in increments. The only reason they haven’t released the iCapsule is because, unlike poor battery life or DRM, no developer wants to see, “Thanks, loser! My head is stuck in South Miami!” in their reviews. So I’m hesitant to weigh in because it’s probably all worked out.

My goal is not to fall for it every step of the way and to try to find ways to implement organic, community-driven projects that force technology to make space for as many individual stories as possible. Also, see aforementioned reference to access. What technology will provide is more opportunities for more people to create and disseminate their stories, a very real concern for those who won’t have access to the tools or trade.

Q: Finally, if you can, would you sum up the Book Madam Way? That is to say, what’s your philosophy on life, the universe, and, well, everything?

Is Shamon! an answer? It’s tough. Can you poll some people? There’s my answer! Crowd source!

Don't know what a mondegreen is? Well, friend, let me fill you in:

A mondegreen is a lyric or phrase that has been misheard. Misheard lyrics are the most prevalent examples, but I often derive great pleasure from realizing that I misheard something that someone said. It usually only takes a fraction of a second for my brain to correct the error, but in that fraction of a second… tremendous potential for hilarity.

I saw a soup commercial this evening that combined snippets of the song "Mister Lonely" with bits from Trooper's "Raise a Little Hell". I was immediately transported back to the late 1970s and my mishearing of Trooper's lyrics. Not a word of lie: I thought they were singing "Pray For Little Al". Seriously.

But I think some background is in order. The origin of the term "mondegreen" is perhaps as entertaining as the things themselves.

American writer Sylvia Wright coined this term way back in 1954. As a child, one of her favorite poems was a seventeenth-century verse entitled "The Bonny Earl of Murray". The last two lines of the first stanza are: "They have slain the Earl of Murray / And Lady Mondegreen". Or at least, that's how her young ears heard them. When she finally realized that the actual last line was "And laid him on the green", she was so devastated by the non-existence of her tragic heroine, that she named the whole concept after her.

It took until the twenty-first century for the term to finally be adopted by a well known dictionary. Random House Webster's College Dictionary added the word in 2000, and Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary added it in 2008. About time, I'd say.

There are many well known mondegreens, and many websites devoted to them. I'd like to pass on a few of my favorites here.

Probably the best known of all pop music mondegreens comes to us courtesy of Creedence Clearwater Revival, who helpfully inform us that "There's a bathroom on the right" in their song "Bad Moon Risin'". The actual line is "There's a bad moon on the rise." I think it's probably quite useful to know where the nearest facilities are when you're about to get the living piss scared out of you.

Another favorite of mine is from the Beatles (they have many, as you'd probably guess). The song "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" mentions in passing that "The girl with colitis goes by." Perhaps she could consult with the CCR boys on the location of that bathroom. The actual line, of course, is "The girl with kaleidoscope eyes."

Another classic is from Jimi Hendrix, who begs our indulgence for a moment when he says "'Scuse me while I kiss this guy." This misheard lyric became popular when Hendrix was still alive, so much so that he made it part of his show, singing the mondegreen while moving towards one of the tech crew as if to plant one on him. The song is "Purple Haze", and the actual lyric is "'Scuse me while I kiss the sky."

I have a book entitled 'Scuse Me While I Kiss This Guy (and Other Misheard Lyrics) by Gavin Edwards. It also contains some whimsical and funny illustrations by Chris Kalb. It's a nice complilation of some well-known and some little-known mondegreens (though Edwards never actually uses that term) and is one of those books that you can open anywhere and get a hearty chuckle.

I'm going to have to go and dig it out when I've finished writing this.

Here are a few more that have stuck with me over the years:

During one of my Google searches a few years ago, I came across a website that contained a story about a fellow who went to visit a friend of his. His friend had a stuffed bear prominently displayed in her abode, and when he asked her who the fluffy fellow was, she replied, "Oh, that's Gladly." He remarked that it was an awfully unusual name for a stuffed animal. "Oh, you know," she said. "Gladly, The Cross-Eyed Bear."

You might have to think about that one for a moment.

Do you remember the movie Shaft? Not the remake with Samuel L. Jackson, but the original from 1971 starring Richard Roundtree (no relation, and he has an extra letter). The theme song was composed and performed by Isaac Hayes, and late in the song, he apparently tells us that Shaft is "a carpet-cleaning man, and no one understands him but his woman." The actual line is "He's a complicated man…" I like the symmetry of this one. If he cleaned carpets by day and fought crime by night, he would indeed be a complicated man. Sort of a janitorial version of Batman. And you don't get much more complicated than Batman.

I'll finish off with one of my favorites. Anyone who ever watched The Wonderful World of Disney (or any of its similarly-titled incarnations) knows the Davy Crockett theme. The words go something like this:

Born on a mountaintop in Tennessee,
Greenest state in the Land of the Free.
Raised in the woods, so he knew every tree.
Killed in a bar when he was only three.
Davy, Davy Crockett,
King of the wild frontier.

I think I nearly wet myself when I first heard this one. The image of a bar-brawling three-year-old will probably stay with me until my dying day. I picture him with a broken bottle in his hand, waving it menacingly at a fur-clad degenerate. (These flights of fancy overtake me on a regular basis, and I must seek help.)

The real lyric from the song, is "Killed him a b'ar when he was only three." Which is just a southern/western way of saying "bear". If it weren't for the ludicrousness of the substitution, I'd say it was an easy mistake to make.

I've laughed myself silly over many of the mondegreens I've discovered over the years. They're usually hysterical, sometimes stupid, but always entertaining.

Just do a Google search for "mondegreen" and have yourself a bit of fun.

Faltarego.com: Putting the "fu" back in "fun".

(Oh, dear God. This is so hokey, I just had to include it here. Brace yourself for intense cringeworthiness. Don't say I didn't warn you.)

The costumes can be quite beautiful, and the music is usually dramatic and sweeping, and the commentary… well, never mind the commentary. I don't know how these analysts can tell what kind of jump the skater just did, let alone whether or not it was a good one. Even in the slow motion replay, I just shake my head and say, "Yeah, well, it looked good to me." Unless they fall on their arses, I can't really see the mistakes.

But then, that's why I'm not a figure skating commentator and they are.

But, you know, as beautiful as it all was to see, I found myself wondering at various points throughout the proceedings, "Are these really useful life skills I'm seeing here?"

No, think about it. Can you picture a situation in life where you would find it useful to launch yourself into the air, spin around three times, and then land on one foot? Or stand on one foot while holding the other leg almost vertical in the air?

I'm having trouble coming up with scenarios for that. Now, perhaps there are some aspects of Scandanavian society and culture of which I'm unaware in which these skills might come in handy. I know there's a lot of ice up there, so one never knows. But I'm still skeptical.

Now, I'm no sports fan. As a matter of fact, I find most competitive sports deathly boring. I'll watch tennis occasionally, but I can't stand baseball, football, or hockey. Soccer is a madness I cannot hope to comprehend or appreciate. My mind does not work that way.

However, there are useful life skills to be learned from all of these sports. And I'm not talking about team spirit, sportsmanship, or hand-eye coordination.

I'm talking about throwing things, hitting things, and kicking things.

Baseball has both throwing and hitting. Football has both throwing and kicking. Tennis has major hitting action. And soccer, well, there's precious few places where you'd be likely to see that level of kicking.

These are useful skills. If someone steals your wallet, don't bother running after them (although that's also a skill most of these sports teach). Just pitch something at the back of his head. If you've a good arm, you'll get your wallet back.

If your kicking skills are up to scratch, the reluctant vending machine at the office doesn't stand a chance. Neither does the flaky printer or copier (homage to Office Space). Toys on the sidewalk, stray pop cans, errant pets, homeless people… all can be moved out of your way with a well placed swinging foot. And the added bonus is that it helps relieve stress.

The hitting is perhaps my favorite bit. Baseball has the best approach to this: If something is coming towards you, and you're not particularly thrilled with the idea of this something coming towards you, then simply wait until it has nearly reached you, and then whack the shit out of it with a big wooden club.

This is a simple, straightforward approach, and I heartily endorse it. It, too, is a great stress reliever, and it can also be used on stationary objects. I'm thinking in particular here of ill-parked automobiles and uncooperative computers.

You see, I'm quite capable of being open minded. I'm not a big fan of competitive sports, but I'm willing to admit that they teach us stuff. Useful stuff. Stuff that applies to everyday life.

Oh, quick update on the figure skating thing. I believe that if you spin on the ice fast enough with one leg in the air positioned just so, you might just be able to cut someone's head off. That actually might prove to be useful at some point or another.

Just keep it in your pocket for now.

And do mind the gap.

(Here's the trailer for Blades of Glory. Yes, it was a stupid movie, but this was a stupid post. So there.)