And no one was happy,
Not even St. Nick.

‘Twas the day after Christmas

And the outlook was dour.

All the Indies were moping,

Even Santa was sour.

“I’ve tried and tried

All that I could

To help Indie Authors;

To make things good.”

I looked at the fat man

And said with a smile

“But surely your reviews

Will go live in a while”

“I’m afraid not, Dear,

I got an email from ‘Zon

Accusing me of sock-puppetry

That my reviews were a con.”

He stared out the window

With an expression so sad

The Zon had blocked Santa

This was really bad.

I mean, come on…

He’s a jolly old guy.

He checked his book’s rankings

And I thought he might cry.

“I messed with the Zon

What did I expect?

Now I can’t even give my book away

on KDP Select.”

“Yikes, I’m sorry Santa,

How about I help you?”

He looked at me oddly

Because I’m a Jew.

“I know of a place

Where all Indies are welcome

To publish their books

And hopefully sell some.”

“Knock it off, Brooks,

I know you’re a joker.”

“Well not this time,

You can ask Mark Coker.”

“Who is this Coker person

Of whom you speak?”

I could see some hope

Pucker up his fat cheek.

“He founded Smashwords

To help us all.

He’ll publish your book,

Good, bad, big, or small.”

“No velvet rope?

No politics?

No signing your life away

To a bunch of di….”

“Santa!” I said,

“I know about the jerks,

But Indies Unlimited

Is always safe-for-work.”

“Ho ho ho,” he jiggled,

As he shook his fist,

“Mark Coker is going

Straight onto my nice list.”

Santa then smiled.

“This means I can write

My books without worry

Yes, this is a good night.”