Is Amazon playing Indie Authors?
Mark Coker (founder of smashwords) seems to think so. And this is some of what he had to say about it:
"Every indie should get their books distributed to as many retailers as possible. Every author should be at Amazon, but they should avoid the temptation to enroll in the KDP Select program because of its exclusivity requirements."
"From a global market share perspective (and this is a global market!), Amazon’s share is declining over the last few years. Authors who go exclusive – even if only for three months at a time – are harming their ability to capture this global growth."
Is this true? Read the rest and decide for yourself, as for me I believe this is sound advice. I have been exclusive on two of my books with Amazon for a bit and have been happy with the results, but being exclusive does have its disadvantages. I want to reach more readers and when it comes time to renew , I may just not. What do you think? To read the full article via selfpublishinadvice.org click HERE.
So how do writers reach readers without promoting?
That's a very good question.
"Go to where those readers are on the internet."
"That’s the secret: Connect and chat with the same intention that prompted your book — of being interesting, informative or inspiring in your particular way (or all three, which is easier in a short comment than a long book!)"
"If you follow the advice here and take the trouble to go where your readers are and reach out to them regularly, they will spontaneously want to share with you, learn from you, grow with you."
Makes sense- what do you think? To read the full article click HERE.
Now the question is which service do you prefer? Bookbaby vs. Smashwords- which is better?
"Until recently there was only one sensible option to distribute your ebook outside of Amazon, and that was through Smashwords. "
Read the article and compare distribution and the fees.
The bottom line- "Financially, the decision on which route to go with will vary depending on your price point and your projected sales, but decisions are seldom strictly financial ones. Other factors come into play."
Read more of the article to see what those factors are and to see comparisons between Bookbaby and Smashwords. Find out also a little of what the other distributors have to offer and where they are in the lineup. Click HERE.
So there you go... some links that will hopefully help make building your platform a little easier. Good luck!
Thanks for the drop by,
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Ok....I just love a good spooky story and have written one. Well, not really all that spooky, not matching up to Dean Koontz or even Steven King, but it is a try and would love to hear your thoughts...
Curiosity killed the cat… Cloe thought on those words as she crawled through like a cat through the tight space of the cement drain pipe that ran underneath the street. Being small had its advantages, but this was not one of them. Being the smallest out of the group of six girls was what got her into this situation. Being the smallest was what put her first.
This was not the first time they had gone down to woods on the side of the road or to the cement drain that ran underneath it, but it was the first time they had agreed to venture inside of the pipe. The drain pipe poured out from both sides of the street to keep it from flooding during heavy rainfall. The drain pipe had a history of being the source of many dares in the past, but never by any of them. Again, today was their first attempt and Cloe, the nominated first candidate.
Like any of the others would have gone first… she thought bitterly, crawling slowly.
Patricia, the leader, was obsessed with the paranormal and with the scary tales that came with the drain pipe. Thanks to her sister and mother, she was an avid participant in the paranormal study. The Ouija board and visiting cemeteries in the night was routine habit for her, her mother and older sister. Cloe didn’t think Patricia was scared of anything. She never recalled ever seeing the girl frightened, but she sure loved to try and more so, loved seizing the opportunity to frighten another.
Today was no exception and the drain pipe was the choice in accomplishing just that. Like any challenge, it started with a dare and ended with Cloe crawling first through drain pipe. On knees and hands, like the all too curious cat, Cloe aimed to reach the other side in one piece and as quickly as she could. The pipe was a straight shot; it started at one end and ended at the other. It seemed simple enough, but oh completely not so.
It was hard crawling through it without hitting the top of your head above and bruising the knobs of your knees below. Clowie’s knees were very knobby.
The fear about the drain pipe was no one knew what lay in the middle. Not knowing had led to many stories and caused many curiosities.
One story that had circulated around her school for almost forever had been about a boy that had once gone into the pipe and reached that mystifying middle. He had been a fourth grader just like them and had never returned. It sounded ludicrous, she knew, but yet it didn’t stop them from believing or getting all to curious.
Those curious cats…
By the distance of the lighted other end, Cloe guessed she had to be almost to the half way point.
“How’s it going Cloe?” Patricia’s voiced carried down the pipe behind her, sending a chill up her spine.
She was afraid and so were the girls who stood muted next to the instigator that watched Cloe's crawling form.
“Going fine!” she yelled back, in her bravest voice, lying.
Travel down the pipe had been slow for her. It was tight and dark. Forest debris also lined the pipe and cobwebs too. Cloe had crawled right through one and it took all the will she could muster, not to scream. The cobweb was quickly clawed away as a silent prayer was made in hopes there had been no spider with it.
Fear of snakes, rats, or even a raccoon down the pipe tugged at the strings of her imagination. Cloe had a superb imagination and thoughts of paranormal fictional frights soon followed those realistic ones and soon Cloe was thinking of the possibility of a ghost, a demonic one or even worse a zombie lurking ahead of her in the tight drainpipe.
She wished so hard, she had never gone along with Patricia and her followers. She wished even more that she had not watched the zombie movie with her older brother last night, the morbid, sickening one he had allowed her to watch while her parents were out on a “date” night.
Whispering suddenly carried down to her and Cloe stopped in her progress. She stayed frozen in place and listened. The whispering immediately came again, but too faint to make out anything. Cloe looked over her shoulder back to the end where she had left Patricia and the girls to watch her from, but knew the whispering had not come from them. It came again and had clearly come from the end ahead of her. She looked forward, strained her eyes and tried to see into the darkness between her and the lighted tip of the other end, but saw nothing.
Her plastic framed glasses slid down to the tip of her nose and she wiggled them back up with her cheeks and nose. Her face, now covered in sweat and the moisture within the tight space dripped in straight lines down her cheeks, some dipping into her eyes, making them sting. Her limbs were fatigued from crawling along the uncomfortable cement pipe and from fear.
The whispering came again and this time, Cloe made out a few words.
She’s getting nearer…
Cloe remained still, becoming fearful of what lay beyond. She looked back again and found Patricia’s face filling the opening. She couldn’t go back. If she did, Patricia would never let it down. She would rub that fear in her face forever and the other kids would laugh right along with her. Cloe looked forward and continued on, ignoring the inaudible whispering that continued as she did. She would make it to the end and then challenge the arrogant twit at the other to do the same.
Let her crawl through this tight nasty space… she reveled in, imagining the pristine snot crawling on hand and knee along the pipe.
As Cloe progressed along, she felt a slimy cold substance underneath her hands. With each forward move, it seemed to increase in amount and soon it was covering her hands. Cloe refused to allow herself to think of what it might be; she forbade her imagination to wander again and picture the possibilities. She continued along the damp slimy pipe with new found determination, focusing only on the end, becoming unaware that the slime now was moving, crawling even, up along her arms and legs.
Within seconds, it engulfed her and before the young girl could utter a word or even a scream, the slime entered every open orifice of her body and consumed her in whole. Petrified in fear, blinded and unable to breath, Cloe’s panic thoughts raced and she prayed for a rescue. Suddenly it released her and the slime disappeared. Cloe opened her eyes and found the other end of the pipe before her. She was standing outside of it and could see Patricia’s smiling face at the other end.
Ha! I made it! She thought proudly.
“Hello,” a soft male voice spoke behind her.
Cloe turned around and found a young boy standing there; he looked the same age as she, yet his eyes disagreed. His complexion was grey and black, dark circles were visible under his eyes. Sadness was his demeanor and the scenery around him was just as grey and white as he, like an old film. Cloe looked to her feet and found that her hands at her sides matched his grey colored ones. She lifted her arms and pulled the sleeve up on her right arm and found the grey color continued on.
“You’re dead…” the boy informed her.
Cloe’s eyes darted back to look upon him.
“I’m not dead…” she argued.
He nodded. “You are. They took you. Look back down the pipe.”
Cloe looked back down the pipe and found her own face staring back at her. Her smile, a mimic of Patricia’s widened upon finding her looking. The eyes were dark and unemotional like the ones of Patricia.
“What’s going on?” Cloe asked him, fear returning to her again. Cloe turned around and looked to him for an answer.
“It’s not so bad here. There are others…”
Cloe shook her head. “I don’t want to be here, I want to go home…”
“There is no going home…”
At the other end of the pipe, the new Cloe turned around and looked at Patricia. A smile of a deep dark knowing appeared on each face along with evil. Cloe stepped aside out of the way of the drainpipe and Patricia looked at the next girl in line.
“Who’s going next…”
Thanks for the drop by,
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Rebecca isn't a very happy girl right now. She's dead, that would make for good reason to be unhappy. I would like to introduce you to Rebecca and allow her to explain why it is she is unhappy. Stay tuned for STalking Claire Stevens...coming soon...
Death can come in the most tragic of ways and most of the time, it comes very unexpectedly. Life is like fragile porcelain for those of us who are mortal. It’s solid, but its structure is volatile. Some can live a life to a ripened old age and for some, life is cut short. For some, it is cut so short it makes them angry. Their life taken away is heart wrenching for the victim and for those who were left behind.
It is inconvenient and inconsiderate. For death to come unexpected for the killer, we call it justice. But the law tells us revenge is not justice, but how many of us agree with the law?
Many believe if the killer can do the killing, then so can they do the dying. Their victims didn’t have a choice, so why should they?
Those victims were not ready to die. They were not ready for a long fruitful life to be snuffed out so early. This upsets them and so they linger; angry and lost. These victims are no longer among the living, but are also not ready to be among the dead. They linger in wait and remain on the Earth in spirit form, demanding for their justice.
But how does one get justice if no one can hear them?
They search, that is all they can do. They search for the one who can; they search for one that will listen and then help them.
But what if a spirit doesn’t need another’s help? What if they learned they can do it almost all on their own.
There are spirits who can do this. Ghost stories, exorcisms and violent hauntings are not around because it does not happen. Just as the living seeking revenge never truly plan to kill, they still do it and then find themselves among the ranks of the killers.
I will become like those vengeful others, thinking too, I am not the one to blame. After all, I am dead and was murdered.
I believe myself worthy of exoneration and that it should come the minute after. Stating: “it wouldn’t have happened, if she had not sent him”.
Who is she and who is him? You ask. hat is a very good question.
Think of as many nasty labels for a human being you can possibly think of in only a second of time given and then double it; no triple it! After that form it like clay, chisel it out like marble until perfection is formed and then call it Claire Stevens.
That is my kinder thoughts of the girl, the very kindest of ones.
If you wanted my actual thoughts on her, it wouldn’t have come out so…sweetly. I am not the gal who is delicate. I would also say I am not that girl who allows others to step all over her.
That is except with Claire Stevens.
Somehow I allowed her to. Stupid, I know…
She stole the respect I deserved right from underneath me and for the life of me (which is exactly what she took) I cannot figure out why I allowed this to be. Perhaps it was because we were once friends. And perhaps once, for the most ever brief spit of time, I liked having Claire Stevens for a friend.
But, I stopped liking Claire Stevens a long time ago.
It was when her heart shrunk two times too small becoming ever so tiny, not even measuring up to match the size of a pit to a peach.
Why are my words so vile when I speak, or think of this girl?
Well! Do we need to rewind back and reread?
I WAS MURDERED! And by Claire Stevens!
Forgive me, I’m upset…. My apologies…
Yes, I was murdered and by Claire Stevens.
Well… not physically by her, but she did send him.
Who is him?
I don’t know, can you tell me?
My murderer is unknown to me. I can tell you what he looks like, I can tell you the color of his eyes, his hair and even the article of clothing he was wearing,but give you his name, where he lives, the reason why he killed me, I cannot.
Well, I can tell you part of his reason, it was Claire Stevens.
She sent him to kill me… and she probably paid him a lot of money to do it.
Is there ever a really good reason why anyone kills another?
If you thought yes, then slap yourself. Yes, slap yourself…and right now. Do it! And HARD! There is not supposed to be any good reason for murder! And no good reason for revenge either, but we still do it don’t we?
It’s a shame really…
We still find our reasons to justify our wrong doings.
I have a reason, not a good one, but I still have it. (Yes, I know, I’m a hypocrite and I just made you slap yourself a second ago over this, but really did you have to? Was I holding a gun to your head?)
So perhaps I should explain myself. I do agree there is never a good reason to murder, but if there is good reason, I do.
Yes, I know, I’m confusing you.
When I say good reason I mean just that… good reason.
Good meaning virtuous, honorable …justifiable.
Its ok, I understand.
You’re wondering right now, how it is that I jumped from saying there is no good reason, to naming off two good reasons.
Well… because they are good reasons.
Ok, I’ll explain more.
It’s easy to say I have good reason for something, but it doesn’t mean it is a good reason. To have a genuine good reason is something different. To kill another to protect another is a good reason. To kill one to prevent the future death of many others is another good reason.
Well, this is all me, but doesn’t it make perfect sense?
So people kill for their good reasons; the big one being revenge and another is for gratification. It’s a fact; people do a lot of murdering for those two reasons and this story does include these two reasons. I was killed over gratification and I shall murder for revenge.
This is not a story you may want to share with your children. I wouldn’t say this book would exactly be a good candidate for family reading time. This also wouldn’t be a book you would want to post on your family friendly blog as a book recommend and if you picked up this book because you liked the cover (thank you, I helped with that) read the blurb and decided this was the read for you, well, maybe you should think over it again.
Why am I trying to talk you out of buying this book after all that I stated above?
Well… because telling my story won’t bring me back.
Your money may help my parents financially (thank you), but it still won’t bring their daughter back to them. Reading this story will make you feel very sad. You will want a miracle, but it won’t come.
Heed my warning. If you read this book, you will never think the same again about murder or about the spirits.
You will however think differently about me.
Don’t read this with your book club. You will all probably walk away frustrated, and sadly you might find yourself agreeing with me; that there is after all good reason; at least genuine good reason.
You will also despise everyone who finds good reason for the things that they do, because people find good reason for almost anything.
I only stripped him of every article of clothing he had and shoved the idiot outside the gym for all his peers to see, naked, just to watch him run about screaming like a little girl and then slip on the freshly mopped linoleum floor and crack his skull open. Well, that was just plain stupid and his entire fault. I had a very good reason for what I did and so I did it.
Was it really? The fool that did it thinks so. Do I agree with him? Do you?
No… no good reason there.
We live for good reason. We work hard for those good reasons and we even make up good reason. We scratch, claw and reach for those good reasons and that is exactly what Claire Stevens did. She found her own good reason and made it happen.
I loved being a teenager. I loved my life and now it is gone.
I never had problems with others. I got along with almost everyone; everyone except Claire Stevens.
So why were you her friend then you idiot?
Well…because… I guess even though I didn’t want to be her friend, I still wanted her to want to be mine. Yep… sounds stupid, huh?
Of course having our parents like each other played the factor too.
So what was the big deal between you two? You ask.
Now I’m not ugly, but I’m not hot either. I would classify myself as pretty with a hint of ugly. You know, if I frown or gawk, it makes me look ugly. Hot people, beautiful people never look ugly. There is no hint of it. Oh, what comes out of their mouths may be ugly, but come one, while you’re thinking Oh how ugly she is for being so vain or mean… you’re still looking at her like she’s the last truffle on the shelf.
The royalty of chocolate, the firm outer chocolate shell covering formed into the most perfect smooth and filled with a creamy chocolate filling that finishes it to perfection. Didn’t the French pick the name? Americans would have just called it chocolate filled chocolate ball, but the French, no, they knew this was perfection and so the name needed to be too. Truffle does sound better.
It deserved the perfect name, because someone decided it was good reason too. Because they decided for good reason it was the perfect candy and perfection always makes for good reason, right?
Claire Stevens is perfection. She is the truffle.
Imagine the most perfect woman and that is Claire Stevens. She’s hotter than Barbie. I’ll leave the rest of the details to your imagination. And if you’re a guy …don’t, don’t do it. The female population will hate you for that. Don’t imagine her, don’t allow yourself to even relish on the possibilities of how she looks.
What do I look like?
Imagine the side kick, the second best to Barbie; Midge.
I’m Midge, pretty, but never prettier than Barbie.
So am I the jealous one?
Maybe… just a little…
But this isn’t about my feelings about Claire Stevens, even though I have already shared them. This is about Claire Stevens’ feelings and what she did because of them.
If you’re a guy asking me what I meant about what she did, then smack yourself! Yep…do it! It’s obvious you weren’t paying attention to anything I wrote and you will now have to go back up and read again. I bet the only thing you did pay attention to was when I mentioned the word Barbie. And I bet you’re still secretly hoping I will describe Claire Stevens to the tiniest of detail to your sickest delight! Put the book down, right now and smack yourself… I’ll pause while you do it.
Thanks for the drop by,
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Wednesday, October 3, 2012
I found an article that addressed a very important question we authors ask ourselves: What defines Writing Success?
How do you define it? Does it depend on getting picked up by a publishing company? Do you define success by how many books you sell or by getting on the bestseller list? What do you define as writing success?
"Everyone defines success a little differently. Some define it as owning a giant house. Others define it as reaching a goal. In the writing community there are countless ways to measure success—completing a first draft, landing an agent, winning a writing competition, receiving that first royalty check..." --Says Brian A. Clems.
Click HERE to read his article and if you like, post a comment on what you define as you're writing success.
Now the next question is what is the key to successful writing? Many, no, I am sure tons of us want to know the answer to that question...
And Jerry B. Jenkins has that answer. This is what he said:
"Writing is not a hobby, a spare-time activity, or something to play at. It’s work. Don’t ever get the idea writing is easy. If it is, you’re not working hard enough. The stuff that comes easy takes the most rewriting. And stuff that comes hard reads the easiest."
Read the rest of Jerry's article HERE.
Writing is hard work. It's very time consuming and something that takes lots of dedication. IT drains you and in the end your a fright to look at when it's time to take the next step. What is the next step? Do I self publish, do I use a vanity press, or do I just give up?
First, never give up and always, always keep writing. I don't know how many times I have heard other authors repeat that very same statement.... Keep writing!
You wanna go the old fashioned paper to print publishing way...do so. Send in queries or work with create space on getting a paperback of your book out there.
Want to go the vanity publishing route...research up on it before you take the plunge. Read my article HERE about the pros and cons to that.
Wanna go the self-pub way, hey I did! Well, you have a few choices to choose from or pick all. Amazon of course will help you do that and with their KDP select program , you can get five free promo days (have to be exclusive with Amazon to do so ). There is also Barnes& Nobles Pubit as well as Smashwords (distributes your ebook to the Apple iBookstore, Barnes & Noble, Sony Reader Store, Kobo, the Diesel eBook Store, Baker & Taylor's Blio and Axis360 (libraries!)
Check out Emlyn Chand's Novel Publicity and Melissa Foster's Fostering Success as well...
What do you define as writing success A.D. ?
What I call writing success is that my readers enjoy what I write. This is after all the reason why authors/ writers write, correct?( If not, Author Jeff Goins can help you with that).Whatever else comes along with that, earning oodles of money, fame... tons of great reviews...those are bonuses ;0)
“Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.” —Cyril Connolly
Thanks for dropping by,
Monday, October 1, 2012
It is finally here and I am so excited to be a part of this great event courtesy of I'm a Reader, not a Writer's Book Blast!!!
Unknowingly cast as the bachelorette for her town’s charity event, Taycee Emerson wants out. Especially when she discovers her old teenage crush, Luke Carney, is one of the bachelors and it's up to the viewers--not her--to decide which bachelors stay or go. Coerced into participating, Taycee does what any self-preserving girl would do. She launches a subtle attack on Luke’s good name with the hope of getting him voted off the show. Unfortunately, Luke's an eye-for-an-eye kind of guy, and when he discovers what she's up to, it means revenge. But when their pranks go south, will they screw up any chance they have at a future together, or will they be able to forgive and forget and prove that love really does conquer all?
“I only meant it as a joke,” Taycee defended, not about to explain why she’d really done it. “And it’s not like you had to agree to it.”
He watched her. “I’d like to see you say no when over a hundred faces are waiting for you to say yes—especially when you’re being accused of having no sense of adventure.” He shot her a pointed look. “I
couldn’t stand by and take that.”
“I didn’t think peer pressure worked on people after high school.”
“Apparently I haven’t matured as much as you.”
About the Author:
Rachael Anderson is the author of four contemporary romances: Divinely Designed, Luck of the Draw, Minor Adjustments, and The Reluctant Bachelorette. She's the mother of four, can't sing, doesn't dance, and despises tragedies. But she recently figured out how yeast works and can now make homemade bread, which she is really good at eating.
Click on the links below to connect with or fan Author Rachael Anderson! Click on the banner above to purchase this great book for a discounted price of only $.99 cents!!!!! Hurry lasts until October 31st !!
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$50 Amazon Gift Code compliments of Author Rachael Renee Anderson
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