THE ‘MILLIONAIRE’ PHENOMENON

I’m not a big believer in destiny. I can’t abide the notion that one’s life course is pre-determined by some external expression of providence. Luck, I believe, is the residue of design. We make our own breaks. At least, this is how I choose to assess how my moment in the primetime spotlight boosted my writing career.

In late March 2000, about ten months after STATES OF MIND was published, I found myself in an entirely unexpected place – sitting across from Regis Philbin, in front of a studio audience and nearly 30 million television viewers, answering assorted trivia questions with loads of money on the line. Somehow, despite my tendencies toward cynicism and inhibition, I was a contestant on Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

I didn’t win a million dollars. But the real value of the experience came two weeks later, when the episode aired at the peak of the quiz show’s popularity. After I had answered the $64,000 question correctly (and before I wimped out on the $125,000 question, despite my instincts), Regis asked me to describe my latest book. I happily obliged, and it turned out to be my most important answer of the evening.

STATES OF MIND, published by a small North Carolina-based publisher (John F. Blair) and largely overlooked amid the parade of spring titles, had been selling rather dismally. Last time I checked, it had been the 122,000^th best-selling book on Amazon.com. But within a few hours of the show’s airing, it had skyrocketed to #50. By the following evening, it was in the top ten.

The media got wind of the story, and the ensuing days were surreal and rather goofy. A USA Today columnist wrote, “Brad Herzog. Remember the name. He just might be the next Stephen King or John Grisham.” Time magazine weighed in on the phenomenon (“LIKE HIS ANSWERS? BUY THE BOOK), followed by People and Entertainment Weekly. Within a week, I was chatting with Matt Lauer on the Today Show, after which STATES OF MIND rose to #2, behind only a Harry Potter title. After that came an appearance on Oprah. It was all very weird, and, of course, all very gratifying.

I have some residual ambivalence about the whole thing. I find it ironic that a show associated with – let’s face it – greed and trivial matters could be the platform for touting a search for virtue and profundity in America. I’ve pointed out the incongruity in more than a few interviews – suggesting that it’s sort of like writing The Right Stuff and then going on The Gong Show to promote it.

But you know what? I don’t wish to write in a void. I write to make my voice heard, to embark on a journey with the reader as my passenger. I didn’t win a million bucks, but I won over a bunch of readers. And that’s priceless.

If you want to read more about the ‘Millionaire’ effect, check out “Mad Money,” my account of the experience written for Cornell Alumni Magazine.