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Emperor’s Edge Extras: Interview with Sicarius

Last week on my Facebook page, I asked for “interview questions” for Sicarius. We had a lot of submissions, but he’s a busy man right now (those of you who have already finished Book 4 can guess why), and I could only get him to agree to answer ten questions. I had to risk my life to elicit that promise, and there was… glaring and knife fondling during the interview process. I hope you appreciate the risk I took to get these answers to you.

Interview with Sicarius

Recording starts.

LINDSAY: Good evening, Sicarius. I know I’ve made your life eventful of late, so I hope you won’t mind me pulling you away from your current mission for a few minutes. Your fans—did you know you have fans?—have a few questions for you. Are you willing to answer them?

SICARIUS:

He folds his arms across his chest and gives me an icy stare.

No.

LINDSAY: No? I can see why you might not be too happy with me, due to, ah, recent events, but the readers are innocent bystanders. Surely, you don’t have anything against them? Don’t you think Amaranthe would encourage you to be polite and amenable?

SICARIUS: I have not seen Amaranthe lately. His icy stare hardens. You know why.

LINDSAY: Er, yes. Sorry about that. Conflict is something of a prerequisite for a novel, and I have to…er, is it necessary to glare at me so much? I am your creator, after all.

SICARIUS: He glares.

LINDSAY: How about this: I’ll make it easier to find her if you cooperate here. I’ll even give you an opportunity to have that private conversation with Sespian. Just answer twenty questions for me.

SICARIUS: It is unwise to attempt to blackmail an assassin.

LINDSAY: Fifteen questions?

SICARIUS: Five.

LINDSAY: Twelve questions. And no one-word answers.

SICARIUS: Ten. I’ll answer how I please.

LINDSAY: All right. I’ll take that. For the first question, we’ll start with something light. Michele asks, “Why do you always wear black? Isn’t navy blue acceptable for skulking in the shadows? Also, have you ever thought about letting someone else give you a proper haircut?” (Numerous people asked after your hair status – i.e. when will you let Amaranthe cut it or let Maldynado recommend a barber?)

SICARIUS: My hair. Your questions are about my hair.

LINDSAY: Hey, I didn’t come up with them. Maybe your fans just want you to look good!

SICARIUS: Hair is irrelevant. I require only that it remain short enough to stay out of my eyes during battle.

LINDSAY: So… no word on when we can expect you to let Amaranthe cut it?

SICARIUS: Is that your second question?

LINDSAY: No, a follow-up on the first. Also, you forgot to comment on the navy blue.

SICARIUS: The haircut status is unknown. It is not a priority. I was assigned black clothing when I worked for the emperor. I see no point in changing what I wear now.

LINDSAY: In other words, you haven’t been clothes shopping in years? No, never mind. That’s not a question. Okay, number two… Jenna asks, “If Sespian were to clear your name, what is one thing you would do with that new freedom?”

SICARIUS: Little would change. The bounty does not bother me. Having people trying to kill you keeps you alert and encourages you to maintain your fitness and fighting skills. However, it would be… acceptable to be a free and… trusted man, so I could walk up to Sespian and speak with him. Without guards around.

LINDSAY: Sandy asks, “Do you want more kids?”

SICARIUS: It is the nature of man to want to pass down his seed.

LINDSAY: I could ask the fans, but I don’t think they’ll find that an acceptable answer. It’s a tad evasive, don’t you think?

SICARIUS: The glare has returned. There are… mistakes youths make that might be… avoided if one had the chance to do a thing again.

LINDSAY: I’m not sure that’s not evasive as well, but I see you fondling your dagger, so let’s move on. Alita asks, “Do you secretly laugh at what Amaranthe does or do you really find nothing humorous?”

SICARIUS: His eyes glint. Yes.

LINDSAY: Drat, and we were doing so good with the multi-word answers. Well, you’ve done that to Amaranthe often enough that I guess I can’t expect more. Jennifer asks, “It seems clear that Amaranthe is good for you. Do you feel that you are good for her?”

SICARIUS: Her schemes are dangerous. Someone has to keep her alive.

LINDSAY: I see… You have nothing more to say on the subject? I think Jennifer may have been thinking about the romance department.

SICARIUS: He looks away for a moment. I should not encourage her infatuation. Another would be better for her.

LINDSAY: Kendra asks, “What were you thinking when you nearly lost Amaranthe to the Makarovi?”

SICARIUS: It would have been… inconvenient for my plans. I believe she can help change Sespian’s opinion of me.

LINDSAY: And that’s the only reason losing her would have upset you?

SICARIUS: These questions are invasive. I do not appreciate your prying.

LINDSAY: All right, all right. Put your knife away, please. We’ll move on. Liana asks, “Tikaya from ENCRYPTED was one of the most formidable women you’ve met in your life, and you met her while still very young. Readers can’t help but notice the similarities between her and Amaranthe. You let Tikaya go, even though your assignment was to kill her, and you keep Amaranthe around even though it isn’t in your best interest. So I have two questions for you… One, was it because Amaranthe resembled Tikaya that you didn’t kill her in your first adventure. Two, will you ever tell Amaranthe about Tikaya and Rias, about how they influenced you and whether or not you keep in touch with them?”

SICARIUS: I spent little time with the Kyattese cryptanalyst. I spared her because of Fleet Admiral Starcrest. He is a great man. The emperor was mistaken to wish him dead. As a boy, I read his books on military strategy. I also acquired some of the less… factual books about his adventures and hid them in my cubby in the Imperial Barracks.

My choice not to kill Amaranthe had nothing to do with the foreign woman. When I met her, she wore a bracelet I recognized, one Sespian made by hand for his mother. I knew he would not have given it away lightly. I did not wish to kill someone who meant something to him.

As for two, I recently had to share the history of the alien technology with Amaranthe, and I explained the role Admiral Starcrest and Professor Komitopis played in decoding the artifacts. I have not kept in touch, as you say, but I would not be adverse to working again with the admiral one day.

LINDSAY: Celia asks, “Have you ever regretted a kill or have you only regretted the consequences of one (such as Sespian seeing the heads of the Mangdorian leaders at age five)?”

SICARIUS: It is illogical to dwell on that which cannot be changed. He pauses and studies the ground. There have been… targets I would not have chosen to eliminate of my own volition.

LINDSAY: Heather asks, “I have always wondered about the exchange with Litya in the super-secret-underwater lab that Basilard witnessed. Why did he look at the tank? What deal did she offer her that was so “interesting”?”

SICARIUS: Despite Amaranthe’s belief otherwise, I am capable of acting, so long as I have something invested in the outcome.

LINDSAY: In other words, you’ll throw yourself behind an acting job that will save yourself or perhaps Amaranthe or Sespian, but you’re less enthused at participating in a ruse to get Maldynado and the rest of the team out of jail, for example.

SICARIUS: I believe that’s what I said.

LINDSAY: Melody asks, “You’ve gone from working alone to working as a team. Would you rather go back to working alone, or do the pros of working as part of a team outweigh the cons?”

SICARIUS: Working alone is safest and most efficient. He lifts his chin. I was never captured or injured when I worked alone.

LINDSAY: And yet you’re still with them.

SICARIUS: You know why.

LINDSAY: Hm. Sylvia asks, “Aside from Amaranthe, how do you feel about the rest of the team? I know in the beginning you put up with them because of her, but have you developed a fondness for any of them, or a particular dislike? How about respect?”

SICARIUS: Basilard is a competent warrior.

LINDSAY: High praise indeed. Anyone else?

SICARIUS: The others talk too much.

LINDSAY: I see. You like Basilard because he’s mute.

SICARIUS: Silence.

LINDSAY: Right. Moving on. Maria asks, “When has Amaranthe’s self-endangering behavior made you angriest? And also (#2) – you peeked at Amaranthe in the cabin, didn’t you? You’re just too sneaky to get caught.”

SICARIUS: I have answered the agreed upon ten questions.

LINDSAY: Oh, come on. Everyone wants to know about that last one.

SICARIUS: I do not get angry.

LINDSAY: Uh huh, sure. And the last question? The one about sneaking a peek?

SICARIUS: An observant assassin sees everything.

Stop recording.

Thank you for reading (and if you haven’t picked up Book 4 yet, here’s the excerpt and store links).

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Experimenting with an Omnibus and Amazon KDP Select

When Amazon came out with KDP Select last Christmas, I didn’t enroll any books in it. The lending program, which allows Amazon Prime members to borrow books (and compensates the author via a revenue-sharing model), requires 90 days of exclusivity. So, as an author, you either need to remove your ebooks from other stores or, for new titles, you need to wait 90 days after publishing at Amazon before publishing in other venues. Since I have readers who get my ebooks through Apple, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, Kobo, etc., I wasn’t willing to sign the exclusivity clause.

I have to admit I’ve been curious about the program though. I don’t think anyone is making a killing from the money made on loans, but KDP Select also allows authors to have 5 “free book” days per quarter for enrolled titles. It’s a way to do a quick sale and control how long your book is free (I have books that are free at Amazon because of price-matching — i.e. I made them free somewhere else and Amazon dropped the price — but it’s impossible to control how long a title remains “on sale” that way; last fall, I’d intended to make Flash Gold free for a few weeks, but, because some stores are slow to update price changes, Amazon kept it free for nearly four months).

Another perk to KDP Select is that authors who do well on their free days tend to see a boost in sales when their books return to the paid listings (I always wonder about this — if it might be a bug or an unintended “feature” — but Amazon seems to weigh those free downloads the same way it does sales, so books can jump up the rankings and gain visibility).

Needless to say, despite my disinterest in signing up for exclusivity with Amazon (or anyone), I have wanted to tinker with KDP Select, if only to see if it does anything for me.

How the omnibus ties in…

As some of you might remember, I’ve also been talking about putting out omnibus editions of my books for a while (quite a while — this post on, “The Ebook Omnibus, a Win for You and Your Readers” is from last summer). I finally have a new cover and the first three Emperor’s Edge novels in one ebook file, so it’s time to give this a try. I’ll also be doing a collection of the first three Flash Gold novellas (that’ll end up in paperback too) in the next month or so.

I decided that the omnibuses could be an opportunity to explore KDP Select without leaving any readers hanging, since all the individual stories are already out there.

In addition to the other perks of KDP Select I mentioned, this may be a chance to expose new readers to my books. As you probably already know, I give the first ebook in my series away for free, so those who find it are going to be the people who browse the free categories at the bookstores. That’s not everyone (some people sneer at the idea of lower priced and — they believe — lower quality books). There may be some cross-over between the free-loving folks and those who pay for Amazon Prime membership ($79 a year), but I have a hunch that they’re different demographics. (No judgement here: I’m not a Prime member myself, even though I shop at Amazon quite a bit, and I like to “try before I buy” with books, so I definitely dig the samples and freebies.)

Of course, whether or not “Prime” folks even find the books depends on how visible the omnibus editions become on Amazon, and that’ll depend on how well they sell. I doubt an omnibus will do as well as a single title, though I will price it so it’s a bit of a deal over buying the books individually.

In other words, I’m embarking on an experiment here. I’ll give you guys an update down the road and share how things are going.

In the meantime, if you read and enjoyed the first three books and have time to leave a quick review for the omnibus edition at Amazon, it’d be much appreciated. As always, thanks for reading!

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Conspiracy (EE4) Available + Chapter 1 Excerpt

I was shooting for May 1st for a release date on the fourth Emperor’s Edge book, but it’s up and ready for you guys a couple days early. I’m posting the blurb and first chapter here, but if you don’t care about such things and just want to pick up a copy, EE4 is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords (look for it at iTunes, Sony, Kobo, etc. in a few weeks).

Blurb:

When you’re an outlaw hoping for a pardon, and the emperor personally sends a note requesting that your team kidnap him, you make plans to comply…

Even if it’ll involve infiltrating a train full of soldiers, bodyguards, and spies loyal to a nefarious business coalition that has numerous reasons to hate you.

Even if it means leaving the city right after you’ve uncovered a secret weapons shipment that might be meant to start a war.

Even if it’s a trap…

Chapter 1

The steel framework of the bridge trembled with the train’s approach. Amaranthe Lokdon crouched on a beam overlooking the tracks, steadying herself with a hand on a vertical support pillar. The train chugged closer, approaching the bridge at fifty miles an hour, black smoke streaming from its stack and hazing the starry sky.

Aware of the full moon shining into the canyon, Amaranthe hoped the engineer wasn’t watching the route ahead too closely. Her form might be visible against the dark sky.

When the locomotive reached the bridge, the vibrations coursing through its steel frame intensified. Amaranthe braced herself, ready to jump. She made a point of not looking at the moonlight reflecting off of the river hundreds of feet below, though her pesky peripheral vision refused to let her forget about it—and the long drop it signified.

The massive black locomotive passed beneath her, its smoke obscuring the view of the rest of the cars. The acrid air stung Amaranthe’s eyes. Nerves tangled in her stomach, but there was no time to worry about the view—or anything else.

As soon as the locomotive and coal car blew past, Amaranthe took a deep breath and jumped off of the beam. She dropped ten feet to the first freight car and landed in a crouch, softening her knees to touch down lightly—and quietly. Though she doubted the engineer would hear anything over the noise of the train, she wagered Sicarius was watching from somewhere, and he would have words for her—or a stern, expressionless stare—if she performed sloppily.

Amaranthe turned her head away from the coal-scented smoke in time to spot four figures dropping onto the four subsequent freight cars behind hers. Akstyr, Books, Maldynado, and Basilard, landing one after the other.

Akstyr straightened his legs too soon and flailed his arms for balance. Amaranthe lifted a hand, concern tightening her chest, but he recovered and sank to his hands and knees. Face pale, he glanced over his shoulder at the deep drop and the shallow river below. He raised two fingers in a rude gesture, suggesting the canyon and the train could engage in carnal activities.

Amaranthe snorted. No need for concern. He would be fine.

Akstyr noticed her watching and changed the rude gesture to one of Basilard’s hand signs, an arm wiggle and finger tap that meant both good and ready. She returned the motion. Further down, Basilard, Books, and Maldynado gave her similar signs.

So far, so good.

This might simply be training for the real mission planned for the following week, but the setting made the potential for injury, even death, quite real. Amaranthe had argued with Sicarius, suggesting they do this during the day, and in flatlands instead of on dangerous mountain terrain, but the discussion had been short-lived. She had given in under the force of his unrelenting glare. He had been demanding near-perfection from the team of late, driving them harder than ever, but she could understand why. He had more at stake than any of them.

Akstyr and the others were crawling off the roofs and onto ladders leading to the cars’ sliding side doors. Amaranthe pushed her thoughts away and got moving. After all, Sicarius was timing them.

She dropped to her hands and knees and slithered over the edge of her car, probing for a rung. Again, she had to force herself not to think about the drop.

Air thick with the scent of wet earth and fallen leaves railed at her, tugging at her clothing and making her eyes tear. Amaranthe descended with care, maintaining three points of contact at all times, just as if she were climbing down a sheer mountain face.

The short sword belted at her waist caught between the rungs, and she lost a few seconds extricating herself. Farther down, Basilard, Maldynado, and Akstyr had already entered their rail cars. Amaranthe forced herself not to rush or sacrifice safety for time, but tension tightened her muscles nonetheless. Though it was foolish and she knew it, she always felt the need to prove herself as capable as the men, especially when Sicarius was around to witness.

She leaned to the side of the ladder, reaching for the metal door latch. Her fingers brushed it. Grimacing, she lifted her leg and groped for a toehold on the inch-wide sill beneath the door, so she could lean out farther. This time, she caught the handle, though it wasn’t easy to open, and she struggled to find leverage without letting her foot slip.

The train had passed over the canyon and was chugging through a boulder-strewn valley, but a fall could still be deadly. If she landed under the wheels, they’d cut her in half faster than any weapon in the imperial army’s arsenal.

“Quit it, girl,” Amaranthe muttered.

She readjusted her grip and twisted and pulled the latch with determination. The handle released with a lurch, but she anticipated it and shifted her weight back to keep her balance. She reached inside, found something metal to grip, and clawed her way into the car. Only when both of her feet were on the textured metal floor did she release a breath of relief. She didn’t relax for more than a second though, not when she was silhouetted against the sky for anyone inside to see.

The freight car carried seeds, tools, and other agricultural supplies, so she didn’t expect anyone to be inside, but Sicarius had promised the objective would not be easy. She envisioned booby traps, but she had to be prepared for anything. She hoped her decision to split up the team had not been a mistake.

Amaranthe pressed her back against a stack of crates strapped to the wall beside the door. She pulled a satchel over her head and removed a small lantern and a wooden match nestled in a waterproof case at the bottom. Making a light was a risk, but she had little hope of achieving the objective, or dodging booby traps, in complete darkness.

The objective was, thanks to her questionable sense of humor and need to interject levity into the strenuous hours of training, to retrieve a fist-sized wooden ducky. Sicarius had said he’d place it in one of the first four freight cars, so it might not be in hers, but she had to check thoroughly. The team had only fifteen minutes to find it and meet him at the end of the train.

After lighting the lantern, Amaranthe eased into one of two lopsided aisles formed by crates stacked floor-to-ceiling against the walls and head-high piles of seed bags in the center of the car. According to Books’s research, much of the cargo had already been off-loaded at previous stops, and the train was on its way to its final destination in Agricultural District Number Seven, near the capital and home.

Amaranthe padded down the first aisle, hunting for places where one might stick a wooden duck. The tall piles of seed bags blocked her view of much of the car, and that made her uneasy. She alternated duck hunting and watching the floor, expecting trip wires at any turn.

Her first circuit revealed nothing, and she went around for another look, this time lifting the heavy bags on the tops of the piles to peek under them. One of sacks leaned precariously, throwing a shadow like a rearing bear against the crates on the other side. She set her lantern down to push the top couple of bags into balance, so the pile had a tidier look, then realized what she was doing and shook her head in disgust.

“Time frame,” she muttered. “This isn’t the place to clean.” She crouched to pick up the lantern. “Or talk to yourself.”

Something at the corner of her eye moved.

Amaranthe spun, her hand going to her sword hilt. Nothing was there.

A rectangle of moonlight bathed the metal floor near the entrance. It winked out as the train passed tall trees and then flooded the car again. That must be what she had seen. She drew her short sword anyway.

Leaving the lantern on the floor, Amaranthe returned to her search. She poked through an open crate filled with metal parts for some steam-powered farm implement. No wooden ducks. She shifted a few more seed bags aside to look under them, though her movements were rushed and less methodical than before.

Not only was she aware of time running out, but Amaranthe was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Something grated against her senses, like the wheels grinding on the rails below her. Though she had been all around the car, she had the feeling that something was watching her. Some animal perhaps? A rat? Or—a new thought occurred to her—it could be some person hiding, someone who had stowed away to avoid the pricy fare of a passenger train.

Amaranthe glanced down at the lantern. It would be highlighting her face, a face that adorned numerous wanted posters in the capital city.

“Time to get out of here.” She crouched and cut off the light, leaving a tang of kerosene in the air.

Before she could pick up the lantern, some sixth sense stirred the hairs on the back of her neck. She heard nothing, but instincts told her to move. Fast.

Amaranthe lunged forward, throwing herself into a roll. The lantern flew from her hands and skidded across the floor to clack into a crate. Not important. She kept her grip on her sword and jumped to her feet before the door.

Amaranthe didn’t glance back the way she had come—something told her she didn’t have time. She bolted out the door, jumping to the side and twisting in the air to catch the rungs. She flew up them with none of her earlier caution and only checked below as she was pulling herself onto the roof.

A dark figure jumped out of the car, somehow gripping the top of the doorway and swinging itself up to land in a crouch before her. Amaranthe scrambled to her feet and turned her sword arm toward the person, bending her knees in a ready stance.

The moon came out from behind the trees and shone on the figure’s short, pale hair and familiar angular features. Dressed all in black, he wore daggers to rival a porcupine’s quills, as well as throwing knives sheathed on his forearm.

“Sicarius,” Amaranthe blurted, relief washing over her. “I thought you were—”

A cutlass appeared in his hand, an army officer’s weapon. His face held no expression, and his dark eyes bore into her. She might as well have been exchanging stares with some stranger who wanted to kill her. The training exercise wasn’t over.

Amaranthe had barely prepared herself for the idea of a fight when Sicarius darted toward her, a dark blur under the moonlight. Her instincts told her to leap back, so she had more time to think, but she stood her ground. There wasn’t much space to give up on the top of the rail car.

The cutlass clanged against her short sword, driving it wide. Amaranthe knew the follow-up would slice toward her gut, so she had to leap back, giving herself time to bring her blade back in. She tried to parry, but his second thrust had been a feint, and already the cutlass slashed toward the inside of her thigh.

Metal screeched as their swords came together. She blocked him—barely. The power of his blow sent a painful jolt up her arm, but she kept her weapon in place. If he forced her arm wide, her torso would be exposed, an easy target. Again, though, she was forced to back up, to give ground.

Sicarius didn’t offer her a chance to recover or think. She could only react. Their swords came together, a continuous peal of scrapes and clangs of metal that echoed off the mountaintops. With reflexes honed by months of training, Amaranthe blocked him again and again, even in the poor light, but she could not gain an advantage. Worse, she knew he wasn’t moving as quickly and unpredictably as he usually did, not even close—he knew her skills and her style better than anyone, and he knew how to put himself just out of reach. Usually, he’d stop and offer her advice, but not tonight. Relentlessly, he drove her back.

Amaranthe dared not glance over her shoulder to look for the edge of the car; that would be an eternity during which he could—he would—strike.

Sweat streamed down her face and stung her eyes. She couldn’t pause to wipe it away, not now. Amaranthe tried to think of something she could do, a way to distract him, so she could strike a blow, or at least earn an opportunity to take the offensive, but she had sparred so often with him that he knew all her tricks.

The cutlass dug into her ribs, and she winced, jumping back and banging it away with her sword. Sicarius had used the back of his blade, not the edge, but his point was clear. It was hard to think up strategies when taking her focus away from him and his weapon for a split second resulted in his weapon slipping through her defenses.

The train headed into a curve around a rocky hillside. The car trembled beneath Amaranthe’s feet. She kept her balance, kept parrying his attacks, but she could tell from the amount of roof behind Sicarius that she was getting close to the edge. She had to try something.

The next time she parried a slash toward her torso, she turned it into a riposte, feinting toward Sicarius’s chest, then advancing half a step to strike at his thigh. She made her attacks rapid—her muscles were weary now, relaxed, and she could move faster than at the beginning, when tension had tightened her limbs. Sicarius blocked her strikes easily, as she had assumed he would, but he didn’t turn the attack back onto her immediately. She sensed he wanted her to try something, so she followed her thrusts with a slash toward his sword hand with the edge of her blade. The hand wasn’t a fancy target, but it was closer and easier to get to than the well-protected torso.

Sicarius evaded the attack, but he backed up half a step. Finally. Amaranthe forced him to block three times, each strike as fast as possible without sacrificing precision, and she managed to get inside his arm. She angled her sword toward his shoulder, lifting her front leg with extra emphasis, to show she meant to lunge in and throw everything behind the attack. But she slowed the blade, striking at half of her previous pace, hoping that she’d set him up to expect speed, and that he would move to block too soon. Then she would glide in over his arm and find her target.

It might have worked against a lesser opponent, but Sicarius saw through her ruse.

His cutlass slammed into her sword, sending her arm wide, and she almost lost the blade altogether. Knowing she couldn’t yank her arm back in quickly enough to block his next attack, she skittered backward. Her foot landed halfway over the edge of the car, and, with her momentum going that direction, her heel slipped off.

Amaranthe’s sword flew from her hand. She pitched backward. Fear stole her thoughts, and all she could think to do was flail, to try and catch something, but there was nothing but air around her.

A hand clamped onto her wrist. Sicarius pulled her up and back onto the roof. He plucked her sword from the air before it dropped away.

Amaranthe stumbled against him and clenched her eyes shut. The image of her body being cut into pieces beneath the great metal wheels of the train flashed through her mind. She wiped sweat out of her eyes with a trembling hand and fought to bring her breathing under control. More than exertion had her panting.

After a long moment, she stepped away from Sicarius. He extended her sword, hilt first.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Amaranthe said. “Thanks for asking.”

A normal sparring partner would have apologized for nearly sending her plummeting to her death. Sicarius never bothered with social niceties, though. She had never heard words such as “thank you,” “you’re welcome,” “good morning,” or “sorry I almost got you killed” come out of his mouth. He merely stood there, waiting for her to accept her sword.

Amaranthe took it and sheathed it firmly, letting him know she was done with train-top sparring matches for the night.

“You were thinking too much,” Sicarius said.

“I like to think. It gives my brain something to do.”

“Think to stay out of a sword fight, not once you’re in it,” Sicarius said. “I drill you on routines over and over, so they become an automatic part of your unconscious memory.”

“I haven’t noticed that I can get through your defenses consciously or unconsciously.” Amaranthe waved to the cutlass that he had sheathed in a scabbard on his back. “You’re using an army blade, so I figured you’d be mimicking a soldier, but no soldiers move like you.”

“The emperor’s elite bodyguard is extremely well trained,” Sicarius said.

“You think I don’t know that?”

Amaranthe sounded bitter and frustrated, and she knew it. Taking a deep breath, she willed the feelings to drain away. She would never beat Sicarius in a sword fight, not when he had been trained to kill since birth. They practiced so that she improved enough to beat other, lesser foes. She had to remember that and be happy with the progress she made.

“I’m hoping to come up with a plan that involves taking them by surprise,” Amaranthe said, “not fighting them on the roofs of moving trains. If we can’t get Sespian out of his car without killing people…” She tucked escaped strands of hair behind her ear, though the wind simply whipped them free again. “Well, it’ll be hard to convince him we’re good people who want to help the empire—help him.”

It’d been more than two months since Sespian gave Basilard a secret note, asking to be kidnapped, and Amaranthe still had no idea what had prompted him to choose her team for the request. Did he realize that she had been wrongly accused of plotting against him the winter before, and he wanted to get the real story? Or had he simply been motivated by the fact that her men were the best outlaws around and the logical ones to work with? Or maybe Sespian was working with Forge to lay a trap for her and her team. Though nobody in that coalition had attacked her directly yet, the shadowy business entity had to be aware of—and annoyed by—Amaranthe’s existence by now.

With the exertion past, her body was cooling, and the chilly wind needled her damp skin. Amaranthe climbed down the side of the car and slipped inside for its protection.

When Sicarius joined her, she asked, “Where are the others?”

“Dead.”

“Only for the purposes of the training exercise, I assume.”

Sicarius pressed something into her hand. The duck. “You should’ve stayed together or split the team into pairs.”

“You gave us four cars to search, and there are four of us. It seemed logical.”

“It is difficult to search and watch one’s back at the same time,” Sicarius said.

“I was only expecting booby traps. I didn’t know you would be a player in the game.”

“It’s not a game.” His tone was cool and clipped.

Amaranthe sighed. The same night Basilard had been receiving that note at the emperor’s big dinner celebrating the winners of the Imperial Games, Sicarius had taken her for a stroll in the Imperial Gardens where he had surprised the words from her mouth by kissing her. Even though he’d made it clear he wanted to wait until everything with Sespian was resolved before pursing a romantic relationship with her, she’d thought… Well, she’d thought it might have changed something, that he’d relax more around her, maybe make a joke or even deign to smile once in a while. But he’d been more controlled and aloof than ever since reading Sespian’s note. Amaranthe hoped that had to do with concern over the emperor—his son, a fact that nobody knew about except her—and not because he’d realized the kiss had been a mistake.

The wind had tugged his short hair in a thousand directions, and her fingers twitched. She longed to brush it into a semblance of neatness. Sicarius, however, did not look like a man who wanted to be touched. He gazed out the door, into the passing forest, his jaw tight, his eyes hard.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t go after him sooner,” Amaranthe said, feeling a need to break the silence. Shortly after giving Basilard that note, Sespian had left on a two-month trip around the empire to inspect the major military stations along the borders and coasts. There was a precedent—most emperors did such a trip once a decade—but Amaranthe wondered if someone had wanted Sespian out of the capital for a while. Books had spoken of an older woman who’d been there at the dinner with Sespian, acting like a chaperone. Since then, Amaranthe had tasked Books with researching Forge, trying to get names and addresses of key members, but it was a far-flung group, and her team had yet to pinpoint a leader. “I’m surprised you didn’t go that first week,” Amaranthe added, “and try to sneak into the Imperial Barracks yourself, to see if you could get him without our help.”

Sicarius’s eyes shifted toward her, and something lurked in their depths. Wryness? Chagrin? It was so hard to tell with him.

“Or did you?” Amaranthe asked.

“Wards.”

“What?”

“A new addition to the Barracks.”

Amaranthe arched her eyebrows. “Magic?”

The Imperial Barracks was not only the centuries-old building atop Arakan Hill where the emperor and his staff slept; it was also the headquarters for those that ran the satrapy and managed the affairs of Turgonia itself. Hundreds of people worked there. To imagine magic being used openly… magic in an empire that killed anyone suspected of employing it and, at the same time, denied its existence…

“It’s not apparent to anyone who hasn’t been trained to be sensitive to the Science,” Sicarius said, perhaps guessing her thoughts. “Even then, it’s well hidden.” He flexed his hand, as if in the memory of some pain.

“I’m sorry.”

Amaranthe lifted her own hand out of an urge to grasp his and offer some comfort, but she stopped before touching him. Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate it. She’d known him for almost nine months now, and nothing she had learned in that time suggested he found human touch desirable. Amaranthe let her hand drop with an inward sigh. She did think too much.

“We’ll get him, Sicarius.” She clasped her hands behind her back and settled for standing side-by-side with him, gazing out into the night. “We’ll get him, and we’ll help him with Forge. Whether he thinks he wants our help or not.”

Sicarius said nothing. Amaranthe hoped it wasn’t only in her mind that he appreciated her efforts.

 

* * * * *

 

Akstyr leaned against the wall of the rail car, his head brushing the metal roof. He sat on eight feet of greenhouse kits with his book open in his lap, though he was struggling to concentrate on it. His lamp wobbled on his pack, threatening to tip over with every clickety-clack of the train. That was plenty distracting, but it was the thoughts bumping around in his head like drunken soldiers that made reading hard.

Across the way, Books didn’t seem to be having any trouble skimming his newspaper and scribbling notes in a journal. Farther back in the car, Maldynado wasn’t having any trouble napping—as the obnoxious snores proved. But those two didn’t have anything to worry about. They hadn’t been plotting with Basilard over the summer, thinking up ways to get Sicarius killed to collect on that bounty.

A trapdoor in the roof scraped open. Greenhouse frames and crates of glass covered the entire floor of the car, reaching to the ceiling in many places, and the only way in or out was through that door.

Basilard dropped inside, followed by Sicarius.

Akstyr stared at the pages of his book. After being the one to bring up the kill-Sicarius idea, Basilard had decided he didn’t want to do it after all. Akstyr didn’t figure Basilard had said anything to Sicarius—or Akstyr would have had a dagger shoved down his throat by now—but the simple matter of Basilard having that knowledge made Akstyr nervous. What if Basilard let something slip eventually? What if Sicarius figured it out on his own? Even if Akstyr hadn’t done anything, he’d been thinking of doing something, and Sicarius seemed the type to kill a man for having a notion against him.

Amaranthe dropped into the rail car last and pulled the door shut. Maldynado sat up with a start, thumping his head on the ceiling, but barely noticed.

“Hullo, boss,” he said.

Books lowered his newspaper and gave Amaranthe a respectful nod.

“Who’s hungry?” Amaranthe grabbed one of the group’s rucksacks. “We have a bounty of delicious ready-to-eat-without-being-heated delights.”

“So long as it’s not noodles and lamb chunks again,” Maldynado said. “A man shouldn’t have to eat anything with the word chunks on the label.”

“On that we can agree,” Books said.

Maldynado gave him a suspicious look, as if he expected an insult to follow. Books was busy eyeing Amaranthe’s rucksack, as if she might pull poisonous snakes out of it. Akstyr thought the others were wimps. He’d eaten far worse stuff when he’d been growing up. The winter when he’d lived on used cooking lard and skewered rats, sometimes cooked, sometimes not, came to mind.

“Uhm.” Amaranthe rooted through the bag, passed on a couple of cans, and pulled out a flat tin. “How about beans and sausages?”

Books’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that small print say?”

“That the sausages are chunked and formed.”

Books’s lips flattened.

“How is that better than the lamb chunks we already vetoed?” Maldynado asked.

“I wasn’t sure if it was chunks specifically you had a problem with,” Amaranthe said, “or all permutations of the word.”

Basilard lifted his hands and, in his Mangdorian hunting code, signed, I could make a real meal if we had access to a fire.

“Alas,” Amaranthe said, “I don’t think the engineer would have kind words to say if we showed up at his furnace with frying pans in hand.”

“He might if all he’s been eating are meat chunks dubiously made in some squalid factory.” Books lifted his newspaper again. “These are strange times we’re living in. Every technological advancement removes us further from nature.”

“Beans sound good to me,” Akstyr said, hoping to interrupt whatever lecture or diatribe Books might be working himself up to. The man had some gray at his temples, and was probably in his forties, but sometimes he acted like the doddering geezers who played Stratics in the park and whined about wayward youths.

Sicarius removed a package from his rucksack and unwrapped his supply of bricks. That’s what Akstyr called them anyway. They were some sort of dried fat and meat concoction Sicarius pounded into bars for traveling. Akstyr doubted the starving people on the streets where he grew up would eat them unless the rat supply was extremely low.

Sicarius offered a bar to Amaranthe. She glanced back and forth from the can of beans to the proffered brick while wearing the pained grimace of someone deciding between torture by branding irons and torture by toenail pulling.

Sicarius looked in Akstyr’s direction. Akstyr pretended to be engrossed in his book, but he could feel that stare upon him anyway, about as friendly and warm as a piss pot frozen over in winter. Sure, Sicarius always looked at people that way, but Akstyr couldn’t help but worry. Sicarius knew more about the Science than most Turgonians, and maybe he knew a few practitioners’ tricks himself. Like mind reading.

Though Akstyr appreciated that Amaranthe watched his back, and nobody here cared that he studied the mental sciences, he figured it would be better for his health if he got out of the area sooner rather than later. And far out. Far enough that Sicarius wouldn’t bother coming after him if he ever learned the truth. Some place like the Kyatt Islands. They were way out in the middle of the ocean, and they were known for their Science practitioners. Maybe Akstyr could even go to school at their Polytechnic and finally learn what texts alone couldn’t teach him.

“Huh.” Books’s paper rattled. “Look at this. We’re mentioned.”

“Oh?” Amaranthe had a couple of cans in her lap and was digging out an opener. “I thought you were researching links to Forge people, not reading the exploits of a heroic and wrongfully accused band of outlaws.”

“It’s a tiny piece,” Books said, “tinier, I see, than this editorial on a perceived cat overpopulation problem in the city. But listen to this: Eye witnesses claim that Amaranthe Lokdon and the group of mercenaries calling themselves the Emperor’s Edge defeated notorious murderer and gang leader Bloody Batvok last week, ending his illegal taxation-for-protection stranglehold on the merchants and grocers working along Thistlemount Avenue. Local enforcers offer no comment. The group consists of a former warrior-caste fop, Maldynado Montichelu—”

“Fop?” Maldynado asked. “Who wrote that?”

“—gang member, Akstyr, last name unknown,” Books went on without a glance at Maldynado, “former professor Marl Mugdildor, and a Mangdorian named Temtelamak.”

Basilard rolled his eyes at his moniker. Maldynado had entered Basilard into the Imperial Games with the name of an old war general who’d been known for his bedroom exploits. Apparently, it had stuck.

“The assassin Sicarius is also believed to have been there,” Books finished.

Amaranthe grinned and shared a long look with Sicarius. “Not exactly front-page fame—and it’s hard to compete with feline population problems for attention—but at least someone’s writing us up now. That’s not even The Gazette,” she said, naming the paper where she’d made friends with that journalist, Deret Mancrest.

Akstyr felt satisfaction of his own because he’d helped take down Batvok. The thug had been from a rival gang that had always been trying to stomp out the Black Arrows when Akstyr had been a member. Too bad he didn’t have any aspirations to be famous. Given his hobby of studying the illegal and forbidden mental sciences, it was best for him to be invisible in the empire. Fame would only—

His thoughts hiccupped.

Maybe this was his way out of the empire. Everyone knew about the million-ranmya bounty on Sicarius’s head, and now that Akstyr’s name had been mentioned alongside Sicarius’s, people might know that Akstyr ran with the infamous assassin. There was no way Akstyr would try to kill Sicarius himself, but what if he didn’t have to? What if he just sold information to someone on how to find Sicarius? Akstyr didn’t need a million ranmyas to get out of the city. If he had twenty or thirty thousand, that’d be plenty to buy a train ticket, a steamship ticket, and maybe even pay for his tuition at the Polytechnic. Hairy balls, it might even buy him food and a place to stay while he studied. His heart swelled at that idea of himself as… well, as a wizard. Sure, only Turgonians called practitioners that, but he had to admit it sounded brilliant. It sounded more than brilliant.

“Beans?” Amaranthe asked, touching Akstyr’s arm.

He flinched in surprise, and his elbow bumped against his lantern. It toppled, and he lunged to catch it. In the process, he lost his book and slid down the pile of greenhouse kits. He ended up wedged into a gap that left his knees pressed to his chin.

“Sorry,” Amaranthe said, though her eyebrow quirked in amusement. “I didn’t realize you were so engrossed in your book.”

“My book?” Akstyr asked blankly.

She lifted the tome and handed it to him.

“Oh, right. My book.” Akstyr swallowed. Idiot, he cursed himself. All he’d done was think about his plot, but he was already acting suspiciously.

“Maybe he’s just that excited over the idea of sausages chunked and formed,” Maldynado said.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Akstyr laughed. Did it sound nervous? Or forced? He hoped not. He accepted the book and the food.

Amaranthe smiled, but Akstyr felt Sicarius’s gaze upon him again. Emperor’s warts, Akstyr was acting suspiciously. He was no good at lies.

In that second, Akstyr decided he’d be a fool to actually betray Sicarius. Maybe he’d sell false information instead. False information on Sicarius’s hideouts and the best way to capture him. Thanks to the newspaper, people should believe he had that information. He still knew gang members who might put him touch with those who could afford to pay well for a chance at a million ranmyas, and by the time everyone figured out what he’d been up to, he’d be out of the city and on his way out of the empire forever. By winter, he’d be on a tropical beach on Kyatt, enrolled in school to learn about the only thing he truly loved.

What could go wrong?

* * *

Available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords (look for it at iTunes, Sony, Kobo, etc. in a few weeks).

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Why One New Author Chose a Small Press over Self-Publishing

As you guys know, I’m an independent author, and I tend to post interviews and guest posts by other indie authors, but there are reasons why self-publishing isn’t for everybody, and there are options out there that needn’t involve spending years hunting for an agent. Science-fiction author Liana Brooks is here today to talk about why she chose to publish with Breathless Press instead of going out on her own.

Interview with Liana Brooks

Welcome, Liana! Do you want to tell us a little about Even Villains Fall in Love?

Doctor Charm, the wickedly sexy super villain, retired in shame seven years ago after his last fight with the superhero Zephyr Girl. The fact that the charming Evan Smith – father of four and husband of the too-beautiful-to-be-real Tabitha – bears a resemblance to the defeated Doctor is pure coincidence. And, please, ignore the minions.

Everything is perfect in the Smith household until Tabitha announces her return to work as a superhero. Evan was hoping to keep her distracted until after he rigged the 2012 presidential election, but – genius that he is – Evan has a backup plan. In his basement lab Evan has a machine whose sole purpose is keeping Tabitha hungry for him.

But children and labs don’t mix. The machine is broken, and Tabitha storms out, claiming she no longer knows him. World domination takes a back seat to meeting his daughters’ demands to get Mommy back right now. This time his genius isn’t going to be enough – he’s going to need both his evil alter-ego and the blooming super abilities of his children to save his wife. But even his most charming self might not be enough to save their marriage.

With self-publishing being all the rage right now, what made you decide to look for a publisher?

That’s a very loaded question, especially since I’m visiting your blog and you’ve done so well with self-publishing. This is just my view, and might not be applicable to everyone…

To be a successful self-published author I believe you need three things: seed money, time, and the ability to write and edit quickly.

I’ll be honest, the up-front costs of self-publishing scare me. After talking with several friends who self-published and hearing how much they made on returns (or didn’t in several cases) I was leery of spending the kind of money you need to invest in a good editor and great cover art. There’s always a chance your self-published work will flourish and you could make money hand over fist because of the royalties, but there’s also an excellent chance of crashing and burning.

Big 6 publishing has the danger that you might not earn out. But small press? There isn’t an upfront cost, nor is there a payment of any kind of front. The royalties are lower for the price point than if I self-published with Amazon (40% vs 75% I believe), but I’m not spending anything out of pocket.

Is that horribly selfish and calculating of me? Possibly. But there’s more to life than writing, and I need to be a responsible parent too. I can’t throw my family’s money into a risky investment.

That doesn’t mean self-publishing is off the table. I think chasing down e-zines for pittance pay on a short story is rather ridiculous, and editing for a short story doesn’t carry the same costs that editing for a novel would (most editors I’m familiar with charge by word count). And I may choose to self-publish a novella or novel later on. The publishing industry is in a state of flux, and the only way to be successful is to be flexible.

Were you fairly limited since your story is a novella instead of a novel?

I’m answering this as a separate question because I’ve been asked this more than once. Not-So-Secret-Seceret: E-publishers love novellas! The whole idea of word counts by genre are expectations built by the limitations of print. E-books don’t have the limiting factors of paper and ink costs, so word count is just another way of measuring length for the reader.

I’ve often wondered what a small press can bring to the table (that I, as an indie, can’t do myself). Can you talk a little about your experience with Breathless Press and what they’re doing to help with promotion?

The three major differences that I noticed were the content edits, the fact there was no up-front cost for publishing, and the built in fan base that comes with the publisher. Many e-publishers have readers who check the publisher’s website regularly for new releases. These people may never have heard of me, but they’ll stop by the publisher’s site and pick up a book out of curiosity.

Part of my contract with Breathless Press includes a list of promotional work they’ll do, including sending out review copies. They also provide a list of recommended advertising groups and a list of things the other BP authors have done. It’s all something a self-published author could do, or that any author could research, but for someone new to the field I think the support is invaluable.

Did the press offer a developmental editor for you to work with? If so, how was that experience?

Breathless Press did provide me with an editor. During three rounds of major edits we addressed style and formatting issues, and two rounds of content edits before a final pass was done by the proof-reader.

I loved what the content editor brought to the table. All my beta-readers are people who know me, they’re honest, but they also know how I think. There were things the content editor caught that my beta-readers didn’t because the editor was able to read without any bias.

How much input did you have on things such as cover art and pricing?

I had no input on pricing. The press has a standard price for short stories, novellas, and novels. It’s my understanding that most presses work this way.

For the cover art, I was able to work directly with the artist. I filled out the standard form, sent her pictures of that I thought matched my characters, and emailed her several times to fine tune the cover art. It worked exactly like it would if you hired the cover artist privately. In fact, the cover artist for EVEN VILLAINS FALL IN LOVE also did the cover art for the short story I self-published, SEVENTY.

The downside to all of this is that the likelihood of having exclusive art for your book is limited. I’ve seen variations of “my cover” on several other e-books. Mine’s the best, of course, but popular stock images are reused across the spectrum.

We all know how long the Big 6 publishers can take to get a story out. How was BP in that regard?

Big 6 publishers are known for getting books out slowly, although I think that’s changing. I’ve seen several author with Big 6 contracts publish multiple books in a year. Kevin Hearne, who write the Iron Druid Chronicles published by Del Rey, has had four novels printed in the past year. The self-publishing movement has changed the timeline.

For me, I signed the contract with Breathless Press the last week of December and EVEN VILLAINS FALL IN LOVE was published the first week in April. We probably could have done a tighter turnaround time, but I took part of February off for maternity leave. Over all, I think three months from contract to debut isn’t bad.

Would you like to tell us about your next project? Is there a sequel to EVFiL planned?

I have a couple of projects in the works. Breathless Press has expressed interest in acquiring more books in the EVEN VILLAINS FALL IN LOVE universe. I didn’t originally write it as part of a series, but working through a plot hole during the editing process I started EVERY HERO NEEDS A VILLAIN, which is the courtship of Zephyr Girl and Doctor Charm from her point of view. From there it didn’t take much for me to begin writing the stories for each of their children. Right now, the Heroes and Villains series has seven books written or planned.

I also have a novel in progress, JANE DOE, which is a near-future sci-fi novel dealing with clones and time travel. I’m hoping to query that and try to take it to a Big 6 publisher. It won’t be the end of the world if I can’t find an agent for JANE DOE, and I’d be willing to self-publish it or take it to a small press, but I’d like the Big 6 experience too. That way I can have a full set of publishing venues.

Bio:

Liana Brooks was born in San Diego, California. Years later she was disappointed to learn that The Shire was not some place she could move to, nor was Rider of Rohan an acceptable career choice. Studying marine biology  so she could play with sharks seemed to be the only alternative. After college Liana settled down to work as a full-time author and mother because logical career progression is something that happens to other people. When she grows up, Liana wants to be an Evil Overlord and take over the world.

In the meantime, she writes sci-fi and SFR in between trips to the beach. She can be found wearing colorful socks on the Emerald Coast, or online at www.lianabrooks.com.

You can grab a copy of Even Villains Fall in Love at Amazon.

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Ebook Pricing: How Much Is too Much?

Last week, we looked at reasons why new, independent authors often feel they need to price their novel-length ebooks at 99 cents (and why they probably shouldn’t). Perhaps as a backlash against all those 99-cent ebooks, and the fact that some readers may assume cheaper novels mean inferior novels, some self-published authors are heading off in the other direction. They’re bumping prices up to Big 6 rates of $7.99 and above.

I sell my Emperor’s Edge fantasy novels for $4.95 (with the first one free), and I feel that’s a fair price all around. They’re full-length novels (over 100,000 words each), so readers get the equivalent of 400-500 paperback pages for $5, and, since I’m an indie and get the 70% royalty, I earn about $3.30 per sale.

The last I heard, traditionally published authors were averaging around 25% of that 70% on ebook sales, and then 15% of that number goes off to the agent. I’m too lazy to do the math, but I know that’s less than $3 per book, even on an ebook that sells for $8 or $9 instead of $5. This is part of why I feel like I can afford to price my ebooks at lower rates than the Big 6 (and because I’m currently selling enough to make a living at the $4.95 price).

Not everybody feels that way though. Some independent authors believe that $7.99 or $8.99 is a fair price, since that’s what the big boys charge. (Though, interestingly, the ebooks Amazon publishes under its own imprints tend to be in the $3.99 and $4.99 range; there are lots of news stories out there about how they’re trying to drive ebook prices down, and they seem to be leading by example with their own authors.)

I’m not going to say there’s anything wrong with indie authors charging more for ebooks (hey, if it’s working for you, go for it), but I’d be curious to hear what others think, both readers and authors.

How much is too much?

Readers, what’s a fair price for a novel-length ebook, what’s less fair (but not so unfair that you wouldn’t buy), and what’s unreasonable?
Self-published authors, do you feel that your novels should sell for the same price as Big 6 published ebooks? Or do you feel that the higher royalty you receive means you can make your books more affordable?

In case anyone is wondering, no, I’m not planning on raising the prices on my own novels (no matter what the results are of this informal poll). I just thought we might get some helpful feedback for those who are deciding on a pricing model for their work.

 

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Should You Price Ebooks at 99 Cents When You’re a New, Unknown Author?

Pricing is one of the most hotly debated topics in the e-publishing world. Traditional publishers and self-publishers alike are trying to figure the magic number for ebooks, and the big kahunas (i.e. Amazon) are applying pressure by making it more lucrative (offering a 70% royalty rate) for those who price their ebooks between $2.99 and $9.99.

Despite the appeal of that 70% royalty rate, a lot of new independent authors choose to sell their full-length novels for 99 cents. Why? This is what I usually see as the reason:

I’m an unknown author so I need to price my ebook at 99 cents to get people to give it a try.

Let’s talk about this idea today. As long-time readers will know, I’m not against 99-cent or even free novels, but I tend to recommend that to those who have multiple ebooks out and can use that price as part of an overarching marketing plan. For example, giving away the first ebook in your four-book series for free might earn you far greater sales on Books 2, 3, and 4 than if you’d simply priced all of the adventures at $3.99.

So, why don’t I recommend 99 cents when you only have one ebook out (or when your novels aren’t related)?

Because of the way Amazon and Barnes & Noble offer royalties, your per-book earnings are going to be mediocre on anything less than $2.99. For a 99 cent ebook, you bring home 35 cents per sale. Unless you’re able to leap up to a sub-1,000 sales ranking on Amazon (selling hundreds, if not thousands of copies a day), that money is going to take a long time to add up.

You also may deal with the stigma that some folks associate with “cheap” ebooks. Even if there’s not a lot of truth to it in the e-publishing world, people have been trained to associate low prices with inferior products.

How do I get around that with my free first book? It’s possible that I don’t entirely, but if you check out the book’s Amazon page, you’ll see that it’s free via price-matching, so the regular price appears to be $4.95. Because the price and Kindle price are both listed ($4.95 and $0.00 respectively), people think they’re getting a deal on a product that’s usually priced higher. People love deals like that (think Costco — good deals on otherwise expensive “luxury” items). I may put my book back up to $4.95 eventually, but right now I’m choosing to leave it “on sale” because that’s increased my earnings overall.

Okay, I’ve given a couple of reasons why selling your ebook for 99 cents may not be optimal, but I haven’t yet addressed the part about being an unknown author.

The “But I’m an Unknown Author” Argument

This is common thinking, but, really, we’re all someone else’s “unknown” author.

One of my favorite authors is Lois McMaster Bujold, a lady who’s been publishing smart, character-driven science fiction and fantasy since the early 80s. She’s won heaps of awards, including the coveted Hugo. She sells well enough that her back-list has remained in print, and you can find at least a few of her books in any bookstore. I can’t tell you how many times I mention her to other SF/F fans only to find out they’ve never heard of her. This is an established, traditionally published author with over 20 books out.

I recently asked my mom, an avid mystery/thriller reader, if she’d tried anything by thriller author JA Konrath (see my post discussing his $140,000 earnings month). She’d never heard of him, despite his traditional publishing career and his infamous indie fame of the last couple of years.

The point is that 99.9% of the traditionally published authors out there are unknowns to a lot of readers, even readers in their own genres. Very few self-published authors have achieved measurable fame either. But you know what? They still sell. Authors in both camps are doing this for a living, some a very good living.

Please don’t bargain price your book because you think you have to. If you have a few reviews on your book sales page, a professional-looking cover, an interesting (preferably typo-free blurb), and strong sample pages, you’re ready to compete with any other author in the e-store.

Sure, you may have to bust your buns a little to get those first 5-10 reviews on your book page (I got a lot of my early reviews through giveaways on forums, Twitter, and through doing book blog tours — some of the tour hosts would choose to read and review the book as part of posting about it), but after that you’ll be on even playing ground with a lot of 20-year veterans, at least at first blush. All the reviews don’t even have to be glowing, so don’t sweat that. As many folks will tell you, people often trust reviews more when they’re not all 5 stars. Just look at how many one-star reviews the popular authors have. That doesn’t keep people from buying their books!

In the beginning, it’s hard to make sales at any price point (as they say, obscurity is our biggest enemy). Try not to get discouraged (I know, always easier said than done). You often have to hand-sell (via Twitter, your blog, blog tours, forum posts, Facebook, etc.) your first 1,000 copies. After that, on Amazon at least, the store’s algorithms tend to start helping you out, automatically recommending your title to readers in your genre and also showing your books in other authors’ “also bought”s.

Of course, as we discussed on that post about full-time independent authors, the best thing is usually not to worry too much about that first book or two and to instead write, write, write and get more work out there.

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3 Selling Tactics Authors Can Borrow from the Internet Marketing Gurus

Between the new wave of self-published authors and the traditional authors who are e-publishing their backlists, we have a whole slew of folks selling ebooks on their own now. More than ever, you have to think like a business person if you want to compete and have a chance at earning a living.

Since most of our promotion is done online, it makes sense to look to the guys who make millions that way, the internet marketer extraordinaires who create and sell information products. You’ve probably crossed some of them, as they’re everywhere, pushing everything from real estate investing advice to diet tips. Whether you’re into their schticks or not, it can be useful to watch what they’re doing, because they’re masters at marketing online.

As authors, we’re essentially trying to do the same thing as they are, even if we’re selling $5 science-fiction ebooks instead of $399 how-to-beat-the-stock-market-and-make-millions courses.

Three tactics these e-entrepreneurs use are the free gift, the mailing list, and the product launch. Let’s take a closer look at each (and talk about how authors can employ them):

The Free Gift and the “Sales Funnel”

Some authors, indie and traditionally published, loathe the idea of giving away work for free. Writing is a job, and you’re supposed to get paid, dagnabit!

But, by giving away something for free, you can often make more overall than if you insist on charging for everything, and, with digital products, freebies are quite viable. Once you cover the initial expenses (i.e. editing and cover art), it costs nothing to have that ebook out there, being downloaded over and over.

The “free gift” is a tried-and-true technique too. (By the way, I recommend Robert B. Cialdini’s Influence if you haven’t read it — a great introduction to  human nature and marketing).

Successful internet marketers use free ebooks, courses, videos, etc. to get people to sign up for their mailing lists. You have to sign up for the list or “newsletter” to get the freebie. Once they’ve got you on the list, the marketer can send future messages (AKA sales pitches) straight to your inbox. They’ll often hook you with that first product, draw you into their world, and then sell you more expensive products (this is the “sales funnel”).

Now, I don’t particularly like the idea of forcing someone to sign up for my mailing list — fiction is a different beast than non-fiction or “info-products” as people really need to try it before they decide if they’re fans or not. But here’s how I use my freebie:

Give away the first ebook in a series — Here’s where the “sales funnel” comes in. You start with a free book, then charge for subsequent books in the series. If there’s not an obvious next book for the reader to go on to purchase, this technique tends to be far less effective.
Mention my website, social media links, and newsletter at the end of the book — as I said, I won’t trick anyone into signing up for my list, but I’m going to make sure people know about it! By the by, there are all sorts of studies out there showing that using a “call to action” (such as asking people to come to your site and sign up for your newsletter) is more effective than simply informing people that something exists.

The Mailing List

We’ve touched on this already, and I’ve written several posts on the why and how of starting a mailing list before (links below), so I’ll keep this short, but you won’t find a successful internet entrepreneur without a list. They say, “The money is in the list,” and for those guys it’s very true.

As an author, you’ll get a lot of your sales from people who simply see your books at Amazon, B&N, and the like (especially once you’ve gotten over the hump of the first thousand or so that you have to hand sell), but a newsletter is still a must. This is a way to keep in touch with your fans and let them know when you have a new book out.

For indie authors, in particular, you can’t count on bookstores or publishers to do any marketing of your new titles; it’s up to you to let fans know when they can go purchase the next one.

You can’t assume people will be so enamored of your work that they’ll remember to check Amazon every few months to see if you have something new out. It’s more likely that they’ll forget about you! This is especially true if you’ve only written a couple of books, and your characters haven’t taken up long-term residence in their minds yet. But, if you can get readers to sign up for your mailing list, it only takes a quick note once in a while to remind them of your existence (and your latest books).

Newsletters 101: Email Marketing for Authors
How to Start a Newsletter (and why every author should)

The Product Launch

Publishers know all about launching a product. Weeks before the book comes out, they’re sending out ARCs to review sites and trying to build excitement. They want to make sure readers are aware of the up coming release, and ideally they’ll pre-sell loads of the books before they’re even available (you’ve no doubt seen that, on Amazon and other sites, you can buy books a month or two before they’re released).

For independent authors, it can be tough to do things in the same manner. For one thing, Amazon isn’t going to pre-list our books. Book #7 in your paranormal vampire romance series won’t appear on their site until you’ve e-published it through the KDP (or POD-published it through CreateSpace, Lightning Source, etc.). So that means no pre-sales for us.

Sending out review copies before publishing is a possibility if you have the patience to hold back on releasing your book once you have it back from your editor and ready to go. But, it’s still a struggle to find popular review sites that accept self-published titles.

So, how can indie authors do a product launch?

You can probably think of lots of ideas, but here are a few things I do (keep in mind, I’m not the sales-woman type and hate to really push my stuff, so I’m definitely on the light end of things when it comes to marketing — you can do more if you’re comfortable doing so):

Talk about the book on Facebook, Twitter, etc. in the last month or two before it’s ready to publish. Lots of my readers follow me on those sites, so it’s fun to give them little tidbits (I’m editing then, anyway, so it’s easy to throw a snippet of dialogue out there). As I write this post, I’m about two weeks from releasing my fourth Emperor’s Edge book, and you can check out my Facebook Author Page to see what I’ve been up to.
Let my newsletter subscribers know in advance when the book is coming out. Last month, I wrote to my subscribers, letting them know about the release of the second EE audiobook, and I also mentioned that Book 4 would be out soon. I don’t like to bug people more than once a month (though I’ve known authors who work the list and really market hard in the weeks leading to a new release), but that was a little advanced warning, and then I’ll write again when the book is out.
Post updates, excerpts, cover art, etc. on my blog. Yesterday, I posted the cover art for the new book and a 3,000-word excerpt from early in the adventure. About a week before that, I posted an update and FAQ on the book. When it’s time to launch, I’ll post the news with all the purchase links and the first chapter or two of the novel.

I admit part of this is just to keep folks updated on my progress (with a series, you’ll find that lots of people do write to ask when the next one is coming out!), but I definitely have that “product launch” concept in mind, too, and I also hope my efforts are building anticipation so that readers will want to grab the book right away when it comes out.

There we go, the free gift/sales funnel, the mailing list, and the product launch covered! If you authors out there are using any of these marketing tactics, let us know how it’s going. If you’re not… well, you’ve got homework, right?

Related Posts:

Book Marketing 101: Does Your Blog Have a “Pitch Line”?
Newsletters 101: Email Marketing for Authors
Book Promotion Basics — Useful Articles for New Authors

Conspiracy (EE4) Excerpt and Cover Art

Those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook know that I just sent EE4 off to my editor for proofreading and any final tweaks she may find. She said she’d be able to start working on it in a couple of days, and I’m hoping for a May 1 release date.

Here’s an excerpt for those who like little teasers. As usual, Amaranthe has talked Sicarius into exploring something fishy…

Excerpt

Amaranthe withdrew a tin of matches and a compact, nearly indestructible lantern. She lit the wick, and a soft bubble of light came to life, throwing Books’s shadow against the canvas covered cargo bed of the closest lorry. Sicarius had already disappeared into a rough square hole that descended… Amaranthe frowned and lowered the light. She couldn’t see him or the bottom.

“How far down is it?” she whispered into the hole.

“No more than fifteen feet,” came Sicarius’s voice in return, echoing softly in the narrow space.

“Ah, not so bad then.”

“So long as there aren’t booby traps, monsters, and nefarious men with guns down below,” Books said, a curl to his lip as he regarded the drop.

“Why don’t you stay here and stand guard?” Amaranthe suggested.

“Excellent idea.”

“Better not light the other lantern,” Amaranthe said as she swung onto the ladder. They didn’t need anyone noticing a flame in the carriage house and investigating.

“Understood,” Books said.

As Amaranthe descended, the dark, narrow hole imparted a feeling of claustrophobia. If she hadn’t left her rucksack up top, she might have gotten stuck in the tight passage. If this was indeed an underground manufacturing facility, the owners must have another, larger exit they used for toting out the big weapons.

Before her boots hit the ground, Amaranthe bumped into an obstruction. She reached out and found a head of short soft hair that was, as usual, sticking out in myriad directions.

“Problem?” Amaranthe asked.

“I haven’t been able to determine how to open the door,” Sicarius said without commenting on her groping hand.

“What? With me and Books up there blathering for so long, I thought you’d have picked the lock and vanquished whatever guard might lie within.”

“There is no lock.” Sicarius responded in his usual monotone, with no hint that he appreciated her teasing or knew it for what it was.

Business, right. Amaranthe squeezed past Sicarius to find the bottom. They could stand shoulder-to-shoulder, looking at the door opposite of the ladder, but not without pressing against the walls and each other.

“Not quite as cozy as the Imperial Gardens, eh?” Amaranthe murmured, not wanting Books to hear.

Sicarius ignored her and probed around the door with his fingers.

Under the light of the lantern, Amaranthe decided “door” might be an optimistic term for the flat cement wall before them. Vertical cracks at the corners were the only indication that the gray slab might be movable. It seemed to be designed to slide to the side somehow, but there was no lock, knob, or latch to be seen.

She put a hand on the cool cement and tried to push it. Not only did it not move, but Sicarius gave her a flat look.

“You already tried that, eh?” Amaranthe shrugged and shuffled in a circle to face the ladder. She tried twisting the rungs—they were the only ornamentation in the confining space—but nothing budged.

After a pat-down of everything around the door and on the floor, Sicarius reached over her head and climbed up the ladder.

“That man never wants to linger in dark nooks with me,” Amaranthe muttered. “Or explain where he’s going when he rushes off. It’s enough to damage a girl’s self-esteem. And cause her to start talking to herself.”

Up top, Books asked a soft question, but Sicarius didn’t explain anything to him either.

Left alone, Amaranthe reapplied herself to the task of finding a latch or trigger. She would love to locate one when Sicarius had failed to, but she wouldn’t hold her breath waiting for that to happen.

Amaranthe laid an ear against the cement, thinking she might hear some machinery ticking inside. The Imperial Barracks had doors controlled by steam engines that opened automatically when someone approached. One didn’t expect such sophistication from the basement of a farm’s carriage house, but maybe—

The door rumbled to the side.

Amaranthe skittered backward, clunking her shoulders on the ladder. Her first silly thought was that her ear had somehow triggered the door to open, but Sicarius soon reappeared.

“There’s a hoe on the wall that opens it,” he said, climbing down.

“Ah, how’d you find it so quickly?” Amaranthe told herself it wasn’t important that he’d located the trigger first. “There must be fifty farm tools hanging on the walls.”

“Closer to a hundred, but only one had all the sawdust worn away beneath it.”

“You saw which one he pulled, Books?” Amaranthe called up as Sicarius slipped past her, stepping onto a dark threshold.

“Yes,” Books said.

Sicarius removed his rucksack and withdrew a lantern of his own.

“If the door closes behind us,” Amaranthe said, “and we’re not out in fifteen minutes, open it again, please.”

“Yes, of course. Understood.”

Amaranthe followed Sicarius inside. He had only gone a couple of steps. His lit lantern rested on the floor while he crouched beside it, eying the room’s contents thoroughly before moving forward. When Amaranthe looked around herself, she decided “room” was a weak word to describe what stretched before them.

The small flame illuminated only their corner of the space, but it revealed rows of racks filled with rifles, shotguns, and other firearms Amaranthe couldn’t name. The underground chamber’s boundaries stretched well beyond the walls of the carriage house above. Beyond the rows of racks, at the far end of the rectangular space, dark blocky shapes—machinery?—loomed. Bland gray cement comprised the walls, floor, and a high ceiling, and Amaranthe decided no woman had been involved with designing the facility. It would take someone like Sicarius to choose such a monochromatic palate. He probably thought it was practical.

The door rasped behind them, cement rubbing against cement as it slid closed. Amaranthe stifled a surge of panic over the idea of being trapped inside. There ought to be a switch on a nearby wall—surely the workers had to be able to leave to pee whenever they wished—and, even if there wasn’t, Books waited up top.

“Shall we explore?” Amaranthe asked.

Sicarius rose from his crouch, but when she started to step forward, he stopped her with a hand. He pointed to the wall a couple of feet ahead of them. At first, Amaranthe saw nothing, but when he lifted the lantern, she spotted a tiny hole in the cement. It didn’t appear unnatural in the porous wall, until she realized there were five such holes, all in a vertical line. The first was at calf level while the top was over her head.

“Interesting,” Amaranthe said. “Booby trap?”

She drew a knife and waved it before one of the holes, figuring anything that popped out would be deflected by her blade.

A click sounded and shapes buzzed through Amaranthe’s field of vision. Before she could figure out what they were, Sicarius pulled her back and pressed her against the door behind him. Several items clinked off the walls and floors, but with her view smothered by Sicarius’s shoulder, it was hard to tell what they were. She did, with the projectiles bouncing off everything and skidding everywhere, belatedly realize that triggering the trap hadn’t been a good idea.

Sicarius stepped away before Amaranthe’s curiosity prompted her to try and wriggle past him. He gave her a head-to-foot check before kneeling to pick something up. A tiny bolt. Others lay scattered where they had landed after caroming off the walls. Something viscous gleamed on the tips. Poison?

Amaranthe swallowed. “Booby trap number one?”

“Yes. That was a foolish way to trigger it.” Sicarius slanted her a hard look.

“I know.” She thought of the conversation she had had a few months earlier with Books, the one where she had resolved to pursue prudence in dealing with enemies. She would need to adopt a policy of prudence for all deadly situations, enemies present or not. “Sorry, that was thoughtless.” Especially since one could have hit him.

Sicarius dropped the bolt, and Amaranthe patted his shoulder. “I do appreciate your willingness to throw yourself in front of ricocheting darts to protect me.”

Sicarius ignored her pat and turned his attention back to the chamber.

“And your ability to ignore the human need to socialize in order to remain focused on the mission,” Amaranthe added.

“This is not the time for burbling.”

A retort rose to Amaranthe’s lips, but she stopped herself. He was right.

After another inspection of the booby trap, Sicarius moved past it. He led the way down the first aisle, heading for a work table full of sketches. As he walked, his gaze roved about, probing every inch of wall, floor, and ceiling for signs of more traps. Though Amaranthe wanted to investigate the racks of weapons, she followed close on his heels. If he triggered a booby trap, he could probably avoid the consequences with those reflexes of his. She would likely trip and fall into the path of the poisoned dart.

When they reached the work station, Sicarius picked up a rifle with four barrels and examined it. Amaranthe’s fingers strayed toward the sketches scattered on the table, but she caught herself before her hands could rearrange the clutter into neat piles. As the men were quick to tell her, spies weren’t supposed to clean while they snooped.

Sicarius set the rife aside and pulled a crate off one of the racks. He slid his black dagger under a lid that was nailed shut. Using it as a crowbar was not likely to damage that blade. Amaranthe was still waiting for the story of where it had come from and what the indestructible material comprising it was.

Sicarius popped the lid off the crate. It was filled with rectangular brown boxes that read Brakhork D-1 Rifle Ammunition.

“Brakhork?” Amaranthe fished a notebook out of her pocket and wrote the name down. “That’s interesting. You wouldn’t expect someone to put the family name on something that’s going to be used for inimical purposes. Of course, it could simply be a made-up name.”

When Sicarius glanced at her, Amaranthe said, “I’m not burbling. I’m musing constructively.”

“I see.”

She tried to decide if he sounded amused while he opened one of the boxes and pulled out a long slender cartridge wrapped in a coppery casing. It had a pointed tip and three concentric rings circling the bottom.

Sicarius thumbed the rings.  “I’ve not seen a design like this before.”

“How many designs have you seen?”

“Many. Everything the army’s been working on for the last ten years,” Sicarius said. “They’ve had the technology to make repeating firearms, and there have been experimental trials, but they haven’t rushed to get production online.”

“Why not, I wonder? Surely, these repeating firearms offer significant advantages over flintlock and percussion-cap weapons.” Amaranthe found a rifle labeled D-1 and pulled it off the rack. She opened the lid on the side and peered into an empty chamber, guessing there would be room to load six or eight cartridges.

“With most of our enemies still using bows and crossbows, our existing black powder weapons already provide an advantage.”

“So, they’ve been waiting to upgrade until there’s a need?” Amaranthe asked.

“There’s also the warrior-caste mentality to deal with.”

“Ah, yes. Turgonian honor dictates it’s preferable to challenge the enemy to a sword fight rather than shooting him from afar.” She slipped a finger into the chamber, trying to figure out what roll those grooves at the base of the bullet might serve. “Want to disassemble a rifle?”

She checked the desk for tools, but it seemed to be the designer’s spot, and only sketches and drawing implements occupied the drawers. Sicarius took the weapon from her and simply used his knife to unfasten a couple of screws. He proceeded to remove the stock from the barrel and disassemble the loading mechanism, as if he’d done it hundreds of times.

“How are you familiar with all of the army’s weapons developments from the last ten years?” Amaranthe asked. “Didn’t you part ways with the throne when Raumesys died? And then worked as an independent without any ties to the emperor? In fact, Sespian put that bounty on your head before he even came into legal power, right?”

Sicarius laid the pieces of the rifle out on the desk as he continued to break it down.

“For the record, I’m still not burbling. I’m just…”

“Interrogating?” Sicarius suggested.

“Maybe so, but I’m not using hot irons or other torture devices, so it shouldn’t be objectionable.” Amaranthe wriggled her eyebrows at him, though he was focused on the rifle disasembly. “If nothing else, you could tell me why you chose to assassinate a satrap governor and other important lords and diplomats when you were out there working for the highest bidder. You must have known that would give Sespian more reason to hate and distrust you.”

Sicarius laid the last pieces of the rifle on the table. “This isn’t the place for this discussion.”

“No, I suppose not, but if I’m to help argue your case when we meet Sespian—which, if things go according to plan, will be soon— I need more of the facts at some point. Or at least, your version of the truth.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. Maybe that hadn’t been the most tactful word choice. Before she could fumble an apology, Sicarius said, “They were plotting against Sespian.”

“What? Who?”

“Satrap Governor Lumous, Lord Admiral Antavak, the city officials, diplomats, and two warrior-caste officers. Lumous and Antavak headed a scheme to have Sespian assassinated the year after Raumesys died, before he’d even reached his majority and come into power. I killed them first.” Sicarius picked up the bolt and firing pin assembly to study. “It’s what I was trained to do. In reflection, perhaps I should have gathered evidence, so there’d be some record. Something to show to Sespian.”

Amaranthe stared at him with wide eyes. “All along you were acting on his behalf? Trying to protect him?”

“The fact that he has no heirs has always made him a target. You know that.”

“Yes, but I thought… I guess everyone thought you were just a rogue assassin available to hire by the highest bidder.”

Sicarius gave her one of his flat looks.

“I mean, I knew it wasn’t money that drew you,” Amaranthe said. He’d had little money when she met him—just enough to hire that shaman to heal her—and he certainly didn’t seem to have any vices that would require substantial funds. He didn’t even own more than three sets of clothing, all identical. “I thought perhaps you might be motivated by the challenge factor.”

“Rarely.”

“Sicarius, this changes everything. Your methods trample all over the idea of justice and having a fair say in front of the magistrate, but all this time you were working to help Sespian? For the good of the empire? You’re practically a hero.” She grinned at him, and, blessed ancestors, she was tempted to hug him.

Sicarius snorted. “The empire is nothing to me. If Sespian were some deviant crime lord, I’d still kill those who meant him harm.”

His words failed to steal Amaranthe’s grin. “It’s all right. I won’t tell the world you’re not quite the malevolent butcher everyone thinks.”

He looked like he might glare or otherwise object to this softening of his image, but he caught himself. Instead, he said, “Just tell one person.”

“I will.” Amaranthe took the rifle’s bolt from him and studied the interior. By the poor light of the lantern, it was hard to see inside, but she thought she detected raised bumps to fit the groves in the cartridge. It seemed like an odd addition from a functionality standpoint. Why not simply keep the bullet smooth? Wouldn’t it have better aerodynamics that way? Then something clicked in her brain. “It’s a proprietary design, isn’t it?”

“What?”

Amaranthe waved to the racks of weapons and crates of ammunition. “If they made all the rifles the same way as this one, then only these particular cartridges will work in them. No smith could simply reproduce these. It’d take a sophisticated facility like this one to duplicate the design. So, the buyers of these weapons will have to continue to order ammunition from the sellers for life.” She picked up one of the bullets and rubbed it between her fingers. “Maybe this is a Forge plot after all. That seems like the sort of quasi-shady business practice one of their people might try.”

Three thumps came from behind and above them.

“Books,” Amaranthe said. “Someone must be coming.”

Sicarius started toward the door, but Amaranthe caught his arm. “Wait, you have to put the rifle back together. We don’t want anyone to know we were here. Especially not if there’s a link to Forge.”

“I opened a crate,” Sicarius said, but he returned to the table and started assembling.

“Maybe they won’t notice that right away.”

While he worked on the weapon, Amaranthe slipped a handful of the cartridges into her pocket. Being able to show someone the unique bullets later might prove useful. She tucked the ammo box back into the crate, trying to hide the fact that it had been opened, and affixed the lid. She manhandled the crate back onto the rack.

Ker-thunk!

“Uhm.” Amaranthe lifted her eyes toward the ceiling. That had been much louder than the earlier thumps, and if she had to guess where the sound had originated, she’d say above them and outside of the carriage house. “I don’t think that was Books.”

Sicarius finished reassembling the rifle and returned it to the rack. He jogged toward the door, pausing briefly to test the booby trap and make sure it had not reset.

Amaranthe waved to the cement slab. “Can we open it from in here?”

Sicarius patted about the walls, but he didn’t find a lever.

“Maybe the hoe is the only way in.” Amaranthe thought about knocking on the door, but if Books hadn’t caused that second noise, she didn’t want to alert whoever had to their presence.

A long scrape grated at the rear of the chamber, in the dark back half they had not yet explored. Tendrils of unease curled through Amaranthe’s belly. That noise hadn’t come from above. Something was down there with them.

Maybe someone already knew about their presence.

Soft whirs and clanks emanated from the darkness. A grinding followed, and Amaranthe thought it sounded like wheels or treads rolling over the cement floor.

“Oh, good, it’s been a while since I’ve been chased by a machine. It ought to be good training, right?” Amaranthe smiled.

Sicarius did not.

 

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Facebook or Twitter, Which Is Better for Book Promotion?

There are a lot of social media sites out there, but Facebook remains the big kahuna (estimates say it'll hit 1 billion users by August), and Twitter is no slouch with 140 million users at the last tally. Twitter seems to be particularly popular with writers, and you can find a lot of publishers and literary agents tweeting throughout the day there.

But if you're an up-and-coming author with limited time in the day, and you can only manage one social media site, where should you be? Well, as I pointed out in last week's post on self-published authors making a living e-publishing, blogging and social media may be less important than simply getting a lot of books out there, but let's assume you've got some work published, and you're struggling to get sales. Maybe you want to get involved in the social media sites; you're just not sure how to do it effectively and what sort of results you can expect. I'm going to talk about my own experience with Twitter and Facebook today, so maybe that'll help!

Twitter — My Experiences

I've never been terribly social online (unless slaying dragons was involved — ex-Everquest/WoW addict here, yes), so I didn't flock to the social media sites when they first started getting popular.

About six months before I decided to self-publish (when I was getting close to finishing my second novel, Encrypted, and was thinking that I'd query agents with it), I decided to hop on Twitter, with the vague notion that I could build up some followers that way. That'd be sure to look impressive to an agent, right? Ultimately, I picked Twitter first because I didn't think I could waste much time on a site that forced one to leave such short posts (hah?).

Well, I mostly chatted with people from my writing workshop. It wasn't until I'd decided to self-publish and do it all on my own that I got serious about marketing via Twitter. I perused lists of writers and fantasy fans to stalk, er, follow, and I started this blog at the same time. I had a hunch that Twitter wouldn't work well for selling books, but that it could be effective for driving people to my blog (this has turned out to be true, and many people who've visited my blog over the last year have ended up checking out my books).

I now have 4,000-odd followers (after the first 500, I stopped seeking them out, and just adopted a policy of following writers/readers back) and am active on Twitter every day, mostly because I can tweet from the dog park or when I'm stuck in line at the grocery store — sit-down computer time is for writing the next novel and blogging, thank you very much.

How effective has Twitter been for selling books?

Enh. I do know that people have tried my books (especially my freebies) after seeing my tweets (or tweets others have "retweeted"). Several readers have told me so. But as far as it being worth all the time I put into it, I'd say that Twitter is more for networking with other people in the business.

Don't get me wrong; there's nothing wrong with that. I've had a number of guest posts appear on popular writing/publishing blogs because I first "met" the authors via Twitter, and some influential bloggers have mentioned my posts of late. That's definitely sold some books for me, if in a roundabout way (increasing readership and links to my blog, so that my site shows up when people search for things like fantasy author or steampunk books).

An observant reader will note that Twitter seems to be intrinsically linked to my blog, and that I credit my blog with more book sales. I see Twitter as a tool to get people to visit my site. Would Twitter be as effective for me if I didn't have a blog? I don't think so.

A regularly updated blog gives me something new to plug every day on Twitter. Your followers might get tired of it if all you do is promote your book links, and, as I mentioned, I haven't found the hard sell to be particularly effective on Twitter. In fact, as a reader myself, I ignore the tweeps who do little besides try to push their books. As I've observed before, I think most of the successful authors you see doing constant book-promotion tweets are selling well despite it rather than because of it (the successful ones who come to my mind also have large bodies of work out there).

To sum up my thoughts on Twitter, I'd say do it if you enjoy it and can be a regular fixture there (tweets fall off the radar quickly, within minutes, so you'll find it tough to get much traction if you're only posting once a day — or less), and especially do it if you have a blog that you want to grow. As for simply selling books, I don't think you'll get your biggest bang for your buck here.

Facebook — My Experiences

I was dragged kicking and screaming onto Facebook. I only made a personal account because some buddies I took a trip with held our group pictures hostage (they put them on Facebook and made it so only "friends" could see them). The punks. I made an account, but wasn't on there much, and it wasn't until last August that I made an official author Facebook fan page.

At first, I harassed my Twitter followers to get them to run over and "like" it, and I received my first 100 "fans" that way, but it's grown organically since then, and I'm closing on 1,000 fans (though, being a fan on Facebook only means someone gave you a thumb's up).

Where'd these folks come from? It's hard to know for sure, but I mention my blog and social media links at the end of my ebooks. Also, my Facebook page appears right after my home page on a Google search for my name. Either way it's my readers who are stopping by (I actually see very little point in asking fellow authors to "like" your page, though you might, like me, want to get a few likes in the beginning that way for social-proof purposes).

The first week after I put up the fan page, one lady popped in and said something like, "Yay, you're finally here!" and that was a reminder to me just how much Facebook is a part of some people's lives. Some folks who won't seek out blogs will spend hours there, so it's worth having a presence on Facebook, even if you're not sure how much time you'll ultimately spend there (do yourself a favor and create a separate author page so you don't have to debate whether to "friend" people back and your fans don't have to read your personal friends-and-family updates).

How effective has Facebook been for selling books?

Facebook has surprised me. I don't honestly know how many books I've sold through there (I do have a fan page "tab" that lists my freebies, but I was lazy and didn't set up bit.ly links or anything I could monitor), but I'd say it's my most active community that's entirely fan-focused. My blog gets a lot of readers, but many are authors/e-publishers and not necessarily readers of my books. My Goodreads discussion board is fan-focused, but doesn't see a lot of activity in between book releases. My Twitter followers are a mix of writers, publishers, and fans, and the fans often get lost in the mix there. I have a list for "readers," but it can be a little hard to keep track of who's who with all the conversations floating around.

When people come to my Facebook fan page, they're there because they liked my books and they want to talk about them and hear updates about them. It's turned into the place where I post snippets of dialogue and teasers from works-in-progress, because that's where I get a reaction for those things. People "like" or comment. On Twitter, those types of tweets disappear so quickly that people who aren't on that hour will probably miss them. On Facebook, new readers can find my page and surf through all the old posts.

So, does any of that sell books? I think so, because it's a way to stay in people's minds. If your recent Facebook posts appear in their timeline, they're going to remember you. In a way, posting teasers becomes part of a "product launch" formula, where you're getting people excited for the next book, so they'll want to go out and buy it as soon as it comes out.

Also, and I may try this for a week or two when I release Conspiracy (EE4) in a few weeks, you can advertise just to the people who have liked your fan page. This lets you target those who are fans of your work but who might not check in every week.

In summary, I've found Facebook to be an extremely effective way of consolidating a fan base. I do think it's ideal for pulling in existing fans, though, and making sure they don't forget about you. I'm less certain about how many new readers I get through Facebook (though, there is the viral potential; the posts your fans make on your page are visible in their timeline so their friends might see them).

Can Facebook/Twitter do anything else for you?

If you've read this far, you may have the idea that both social media sites have been useful tools for me, but that I don't attribute either with tons of book sales. You'd be right. I think, in the end, getting a lot of work out there and maybe having a freebie or two in Amazon, B&N, iTunes, etc. is going to do the most for you when it comes to selling books, but I don't regret the time I've spent on these sites. And, as I started this post talking about agents, there's one more thing worth mentioning:

From what I've seen (and I've been approached by several of these folks now), publishers and agents get weak in the knees at the prospect of an author who's already built a platform. While book sales are a bit of a guessing game for outsiders, your popularity — or lack of popularity — on Facebook/Twitter is clearly visible to others. If you're an indie and want to be courted by a publisher, or you're thinking of querying an agent, this stuff can only help you there.

 

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Self-Publishing and Paperbacks — Is Print Still Worth It?

The main reason so many independent are doing well right now is the coming of the ebook. Well, the ebook has been around for a while, but with iPads, Kindles, Nooks, etc., we finally have a convenient way to read them. Because it doesn't take resources to make copies of ebooks, we can put them out there at reasonable prices, often undercutting the traditional publishers who must still pay the costs associated with maintaining offices and having employees.

But what about those paperbacks? Not everybody has an ebook reader, so does it make sense to publish physical copies of your books?

Though I don't talk about them much, my first three Emperor's Edge novels are available as paperbacks at Amazon (and they should be at B&N too–I have a customer support ticket out at CreateSpace to see why they've disappeared over there). That said, I wasn't terribly speedy in getting the paperbacks out there. The economics are such that you make more on a $3.99 ebook than you do on an $11.99 paperback, at least when you're using print-on-demand technology (the way most self-publishers go these days).

And, as you might guess, it's easier to sell a $3.99 ebook. With POD publishing, you can't get paperback prices down to the point where they're competitive with mass market paperbacks selling at $8 or so. In going through CreateSpace, $11.99 was as inexpensive as I could price my books without losing money (and I've heard it's a similar scenario with other POD publishing companies).

There also tend to be additional costs associated with making hard copies. Unless you're handy and can do everything yourself, you'll need to pay for formatting (a different way of formatting than for ebooks) and additional cover art (you probably only commissioned a front cover for your ebook, but you'll need a spine and a back for a paperback version). Then there are a few fees associated with CreateSpace. It's free to upload your files, but you'll have to pay $25 (it used to be closer to $40) for a plan that gets your book into more stores than Amazon. You'll need to order a proof to look over before okaying the book for sale, too, though that's not a huge cost (perhaps $10 including shipping).

Overall, it might cost $250 or so for each paperback book you put together (again, I've seen people who learn to do everything themselves, which brings the costs down to closer to $30).

So, is it worth making print copies? Will you sell enough copies to break even?

As you might guess, it's going to depend on a few things. I make about $50 a month from paperback sales (about twice that over Christmas this past year), and that's not much compared to what I make from my ebook sales ($X,XXX/mo). But I also don't do anything to promote my paperbacks.

I've met other people who buy copies en mass and hand-sell them at conventions, renaissance fairs, and the like. You can typically purchase author copies for around $5, so there's money to be made if you turn around and sell them for $12 or more. When I visited fellow indie Gretchen Rix in Lockhart, Texas, she had talked a number of small businesses in town into selling her book, and I believe she also has copies at Book People (a large indie bookstore) in Austin. If you don't mind dealing with shipping hassles, you can sell your books directly from your own website too.

Even at my $50 a month, I've earned back the "start-up costs" of creating paperbacks of my books. Most of those costs are one-time, so you have the life of the book to make your money back.

That said, if you're struggling to sell three ebooks a month at $2.99, you may not yet have the fan base built up to make paperbacks worth it. I waited until I had people asking me about physical books before I made the jump. In the end, it was more about making sure my books were available in all formats for the convenience of the readers than about adding a revenue stream.

What do you think? If you're an author, have you found it "worth it" to create paperback versions? If you're a reader, have you purchased paperback versions from indie authors, despite the extra cost?

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