M.K. Alexander's Blog, page 8
January 21, 2018
Sell More Books, Part 10: Final Thoughts
10. Final Thoughts
Patience, perseverance, and hard work will take you to your sales destination, though consider that posthumous success is slightly less than fulfilling (next of kin take note). Please keep in mind, most of these tips are for living indie-authors only. Let’s review:
1. Book titles sell your work, the more provocative, the better. Misrepresentation counts for little.
2. Your book cover is your face. This is how the world now judges you. Smile! What’s in between, the pages, simply adds or detracts from your sales.
3. Genre-bending can add readers you never knew existed. Adding “zombies” to your genre always sells more books.
4. Build a following, though make certain they know how to read.
5. Reviews sell books, the more the better, even bad reviews. Reviews from your mom are not as helpful.
6. Given that there is an unlimited supply of ebooks, price accordingly. Paperbacks are now to be considered rare editions, also price accordingly.
7. Rich and famous people sell more books than even the best itinerant authors. Infamy, also.
8. Learn who and how to stalk correctly. (seek legal advice beforehand)
9. Niche markets are more robust than you might first imagine. Stay true to your readers.
Well, thanks… Hope these ten essays brought a smile to your face, or a chuckle— indeed, even a thought to contemplate. The final way to sell more books is of course to write more books! Best of luck to you all.
I’d be remiss in not plugging my own very short story: “The Reviewer.”
(all of the above in a fiction)
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N249E76
If you do not have 99¢ I will be happy to send you a PDF.
Patience, perseverance, and hard work will take you to your sales destination, though consider that posthumous success is slightly less than fulfilling (next of kin take note). Please keep in mind, most of these tips are for living indie-authors only. Let’s review:
1. Book titles sell your work, the more provocative, the better. Misrepresentation counts for little.
2. Your book cover is your face. This is how the world now judges you. Smile! What’s in between, the pages, simply adds or detracts from your sales.
3. Genre-bending can add readers you never knew existed. Adding “zombies” to your genre always sells more books.
4. Build a following, though make certain they know how to read.
5. Reviews sell books, the more the better, even bad reviews. Reviews from your mom are not as helpful.
6. Given that there is an unlimited supply of ebooks, price accordingly. Paperbacks are now to be considered rare editions, also price accordingly.
7. Rich and famous people sell more books than even the best itinerant authors. Infamy, also.
8. Learn who and how to stalk correctly. (seek legal advice beforehand)
9. Niche markets are more robust than you might first imagine. Stay true to your readers.
Well, thanks… Hope these ten essays brought a smile to your face, or a chuckle— indeed, even a thought to contemplate. The final way to sell more books is of course to write more books! Best of luck to you all.
I’d be remiss in not plugging my own very short story: “The Reviewer.”
(all of the above in a fiction)
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N249E76
If you do not have 99¢ I will be happy to send you a PDF.
January 14, 2018
Sell More Books, Part 9: Niche Markets
Ten Ways to Sell More Books
9. Niche Markets
It seems counter-intuitive that writing for a niche market can sell more books, and yet it does. Broadly speaking, a niche market is composed of people with very narrow interests. What sets them apart from general readers? They know their subject matter intimately and will cut you to shreds if you don’t. There’s that… but, on the upside, they are devoted, sometimes fanatical, and you’ll become widely-known or somewhat-known in a matter of weeks.
First, know thy niche: A story about the daily struggles of a left-handed, one-eyed salamander named Stanley is a far cry from “Amphibians Like Newt: Political Discourse from the 1990s.” In this case, honing your keywords prior to publication is an important strategy. Search results matter. Lizard people will not read either story, though folks named Stanley might take an interest. The more specific your subject matter the smaller your audience. Resist the urge to get too specific.
For writers of non-fiction, the task is fairly straightforward. For example, “Pen and Ink Accountancy: To Quill or Not to Quill,” is obviously aimed at a very specific readership; though you might happily pick up a few people interested in calligraphy.
For writers of fiction, a more difficult task lies ahead. “Advanced Harpooning Techniques of the 19th Century” might seem like an unsellable niche title. Not many people would be interested in the story of an obsessed (and peg-legged) whaling skipper. Who is the audience here? Other Captains? Illiterate Sailors? Tattooed Polynesians? Even if half the people in New Bedford, Massachusetts bought the book, it would hardly make the best seller list. Nor did it, and yet it remains a classic to this day.
Other examples abound. Who would ever read a book about an itinerant Spanish nobleman with serious mental health issues? Or take the story of a civil servant who turns into a large bug… Who is the audience here? Russian bureaucrats, or entomologists? The answers may surprise you.
A small bit of historical perspective. When books were first written on mass, and here I mean fiction, genres did not exist. They were not handed down from on high, they developed, evolved, each and every one, by niche market writers.
I dabble in Health Insurance thrillers. It may seem odd to you, but consider, healthcare is a one of the largest growing occupations in the world. A niche market that could easily spawn a whole new genre; a genre, I might add, soon to be recognized by the BISAC coding system. As one reviewer put it: “The protagonist here doesn’t just cut through red tape, she uses a chainsaw…”
Staying true to the genre means careful plotting and sketching real life characters: the opioid-addicted receptionist; the diabolical (but retired) medicare-cheat; the perplexed intern who has a penchant for ordering costly tests; or the hapless patient, lost in a jurisdictional maze with a saline drip in his arm.
My audience expects no less. Lesson learned:
One must remain true to thine readers. As a writer, you must stay true to your niche at all costs.
next week: final thoughts
9. Niche Markets
It seems counter-intuitive that writing for a niche market can sell more books, and yet it does. Broadly speaking, a niche market is composed of people with very narrow interests. What sets them apart from general readers? They know their subject matter intimately and will cut you to shreds if you don’t. There’s that… but, on the upside, they are devoted, sometimes fanatical, and you’ll become widely-known or somewhat-known in a matter of weeks.
First, know thy niche: A story about the daily struggles of a left-handed, one-eyed salamander named Stanley is a far cry from “Amphibians Like Newt: Political Discourse from the 1990s.” In this case, honing your keywords prior to publication is an important strategy. Search results matter. Lizard people will not read either story, though folks named Stanley might take an interest. The more specific your subject matter the smaller your audience. Resist the urge to get too specific.
For writers of non-fiction, the task is fairly straightforward. For example, “Pen and Ink Accountancy: To Quill or Not to Quill,” is obviously aimed at a very specific readership; though you might happily pick up a few people interested in calligraphy.
For writers of fiction, a more difficult task lies ahead. “Advanced Harpooning Techniques of the 19th Century” might seem like an unsellable niche title. Not many people would be interested in the story of an obsessed (and peg-legged) whaling skipper. Who is the audience here? Other Captains? Illiterate Sailors? Tattooed Polynesians? Even if half the people in New Bedford, Massachusetts bought the book, it would hardly make the best seller list. Nor did it, and yet it remains a classic to this day.
Other examples abound. Who would ever read a book about an itinerant Spanish nobleman with serious mental health issues? Or take the story of a civil servant who turns into a large bug… Who is the audience here? Russian bureaucrats, or entomologists? The answers may surprise you.
A small bit of historical perspective. When books were first written on mass, and here I mean fiction, genres did not exist. They were not handed down from on high, they developed, evolved, each and every one, by niche market writers.
I dabble in Health Insurance thrillers. It may seem odd to you, but consider, healthcare is a one of the largest growing occupations in the world. A niche market that could easily spawn a whole new genre; a genre, I might add, soon to be recognized by the BISAC coding system. As one reviewer put it: “The protagonist here doesn’t just cut through red tape, she uses a chainsaw…”
Staying true to the genre means careful plotting and sketching real life characters: the opioid-addicted receptionist; the diabolical (but retired) medicare-cheat; the perplexed intern who has a penchant for ordering costly tests; or the hapless patient, lost in a jurisdictional maze with a saline drip in his arm.
My audience expects no less. Lesson learned:
One must remain true to thine readers. As a writer, you must stay true to your niche at all costs.
next week: final thoughts
January 7, 2018
Sell More Books, Part 8: Stalking
Ten Ways to Sell More Books
8. Stalking
Among the strategies to sell more books, “stalking” is near the top of the list. This goes double for indie-authors, probably because the word has two meanings:
stalk |stôk| (verb)
• pursue or approach stealthily.
• harass with unwanted, obsessive attention.
Some might call the first a noble endeavor, certainly a time-honored skill, and one of the keys to our evolutionary survival. Stealth being the operative word. The second is simply a lawsuit waiting to happen.
To the prey, and in this case I mean the reader, there is little difference between the two definitions. These days, we call stalking behavior “marketing and promotion.” Stealthy or not, your approach may well determine your success.
To start off, we might describe a writer’s life as a lonely life, (much like a hunter’s, except the latter actually puts food on the table). The dedicated writer may have few friends, and certainly a family that doesn’t understand. Such is not always the case; yet stalking, if improperly handled, will ensure that it is. What’s the loss of a few friends? Or alienation from the family? Perhaps it’s for the best, especially if you claw your way to the best seller list.
Stalking begins at home: friends, family and neighbors, as in, read my book, please. From there, it’s necessary to pursue anonymous people, complete strangers. Anyone with the ability to form sounds from words is fair game. And in the modern digital world, your prey is boundless.
Stalking was much harder in the old days… Gunning down critics, for example. Or carrying around cumbersome manuscripts, waiting in publishers’ driveways; or riding elevators, pitch in hand. I often wear a trench coat to the supermarket, lined with pocket editions of all my books, and I’m ready to whip them out at a moment’s notice. Door to door sales is another kind of stalking, surely, though not as effective as it used to be.
The real hunting ground nowadays is social media. All stalking can be done from the convenience of your own living room, and in new, never-before dreamed of ways. I’m not sure I can correctly put “stealth” and “email blast” together in the same sentence, yet many have tried. Auto-posting also comes to mind; endless shout-outs and animated gifs. Cunning, it is not. The legal definition of harassment varies from state to state.
Once you’ve committed to stalking, you’re left with the how and the who. The how entails technique. Remember our watchword: stealth. To that, you might add subtlety.
And who to stalk? Well, make a list: bloggers, critics, reviewers, agents, editors, celebrities, other writers, and people who like to read.
Next week: niche markets
8. Stalking
Among the strategies to sell more books, “stalking” is near the top of the list. This goes double for indie-authors, probably because the word has two meanings:
stalk |stôk| (verb)
• pursue or approach stealthily.
• harass with unwanted, obsessive attention.
Some might call the first a noble endeavor, certainly a time-honored skill, and one of the keys to our evolutionary survival. Stealth being the operative word. The second is simply a lawsuit waiting to happen.
To the prey, and in this case I mean the reader, there is little difference between the two definitions. These days, we call stalking behavior “marketing and promotion.” Stealthy or not, your approach may well determine your success.
To start off, we might describe a writer’s life as a lonely life, (much like a hunter’s, except the latter actually puts food on the table). The dedicated writer may have few friends, and certainly a family that doesn’t understand. Such is not always the case; yet stalking, if improperly handled, will ensure that it is. What’s the loss of a few friends? Or alienation from the family? Perhaps it’s for the best, especially if you claw your way to the best seller list.
Stalking begins at home: friends, family and neighbors, as in, read my book, please. From there, it’s necessary to pursue anonymous people, complete strangers. Anyone with the ability to form sounds from words is fair game. And in the modern digital world, your prey is boundless.
Stalking was much harder in the old days… Gunning down critics, for example. Or carrying around cumbersome manuscripts, waiting in publishers’ driveways; or riding elevators, pitch in hand. I often wear a trench coat to the supermarket, lined with pocket editions of all my books, and I’m ready to whip them out at a moment’s notice. Door to door sales is another kind of stalking, surely, though not as effective as it used to be.
The real hunting ground nowadays is social media. All stalking can be done from the convenience of your own living room, and in new, never-before dreamed of ways. I’m not sure I can correctly put “stealth” and “email blast” together in the same sentence, yet many have tried. Auto-posting also comes to mind; endless shout-outs and animated gifs. Cunning, it is not. The legal definition of harassment varies from state to state.
Once you’ve committed to stalking, you’re left with the how and the who. The how entails technique. Remember our watchword: stealth. To that, you might add subtlety.
And who to stalk? Well, make a list: bloggers, critics, reviewers, agents, editors, celebrities, other writers, and people who like to read.
Next week: niche markets
December 31, 2017
Sell More Books, Part 7: Fame and Fortune
7. Fame and Fortune
Nothing sells books like being famous, or having a fortune to spend. In fact, writing has little to do with any of it, except if you happen to be a famous author. Well, you can probably count that number on one hand.
The alternative is easy. Get really, really good at something else… hmm, like spelunking, as an example. Get really, really famous… and then write a book. Oddly, in this case, you need not write about caves. Any book will suffice, even a cook book. Given enough notoriety, it will surely top the best-seller list. In fact, it’s not necessary to write at all. You can pay someone else using your fortune.
By no means am I advocating infamy here, say, embezzling, or becoming a serial killer; though it works pretty much the same way. The major difference being, you may have to learn to write with a crayon from a prison cell.
It might be helpful to differentiate between infamy and fame at this point. I’ve often wondered if there’s a difference between “infamously famous” or “famously infamous.” If there is a difference, it’s exquisitely subtle. Nonetheless infamy is in itself a kind of fame. We might ask: How many books are written about Frank the Ripper?
Nothing on this earth attracts such numbers, like a moth to a flame— I mean to say fame, not murder. It’s like having built-in PR, a ready-made fan base, free advertising. Your every action in life, from having a cup of coffee in the morning to what you eat for dinner, becomes an endless source of fascination. Depending on your level of notoriety, there is a good possibility that you can cheat death itself. That is, unbeknownst to you, your fortune will wane but name may live eternally.
It’s important to remember fame is not like an on/off switch. People don’t usually go to bed in obscurity and wake up the next day to fame and fortune. Patience is one requirement. It’s also important to understand fame is a continuum, as in some are more famous than others. On one end, you might have someone like Beyonce, and on the other end, there’s Frank who is only famous for getting drunk at parties. People on one side of the spectrum usually sell more books than those on the other.
And fame comes in many different flavors: historically fame, political, Bollywood, or sports fame, fleeting fame, and internet-famous, to name but a few. In this modern era and thanks to Mr Warhol, every citizen is guaranteed fifteen minutes in the limelight. Use it wisely.
To cite a personal experience: not long ago a tweet of mine was picked up and broadcast by CNN. What luck! I got thousands upon thousands of views and sold two books.
If you are not famous, there’s still hope. Ghostwriters can earn a good living, especially when their clients posses a fortune. And basking in the reflected glow of fame can boost sales as well. What? Consider writing about a famous person (in an unauthorized sense). Or, if you write fiction, you might base your characters on famous people (lawyers take note). This strategy works best on long-since dead famous people who have no living descendants. Legal difficulties aside, you can easily use famous settings in your work: Mount Rushmore, the Aral Sea or downtown Schenectady. Famous events are also a draw, a fortunate backdrop to your story. All such strategies can boost sales.
On to fortune. To foster a greater understanding of how this works, it is necessary to separate fame from fortune. The latter can be measured in bullion; the former in duration and intensity. While fame and fortune are not always synonymous, they are directly correlated. Rich people need not be famous but famous people are often rich. Who’s ever heard of famous poor person? And most importantly, with a fortune, you can spend your way to the best seller list.
next week: stalking
Nothing sells books like being famous, or having a fortune to spend. In fact, writing has little to do with any of it, except if you happen to be a famous author. Well, you can probably count that number on one hand.
The alternative is easy. Get really, really good at something else… hmm, like spelunking, as an example. Get really, really famous… and then write a book. Oddly, in this case, you need not write about caves. Any book will suffice, even a cook book. Given enough notoriety, it will surely top the best-seller list. In fact, it’s not necessary to write at all. You can pay someone else using your fortune.
By no means am I advocating infamy here, say, embezzling, or becoming a serial killer; though it works pretty much the same way. The major difference being, you may have to learn to write with a crayon from a prison cell.
It might be helpful to differentiate between infamy and fame at this point. I’ve often wondered if there’s a difference between “infamously famous” or “famously infamous.” If there is a difference, it’s exquisitely subtle. Nonetheless infamy is in itself a kind of fame. We might ask: How many books are written about Frank the Ripper?
Nothing on this earth attracts such numbers, like a moth to a flame— I mean to say fame, not murder. It’s like having built-in PR, a ready-made fan base, free advertising. Your every action in life, from having a cup of coffee in the morning to what you eat for dinner, becomes an endless source of fascination. Depending on your level of notoriety, there is a good possibility that you can cheat death itself. That is, unbeknownst to you, your fortune will wane but name may live eternally.
It’s important to remember fame is not like an on/off switch. People don’t usually go to bed in obscurity and wake up the next day to fame and fortune. Patience is one requirement. It’s also important to understand fame is a continuum, as in some are more famous than others. On one end, you might have someone like Beyonce, and on the other end, there’s Frank who is only famous for getting drunk at parties. People on one side of the spectrum usually sell more books than those on the other.
And fame comes in many different flavors: historically fame, political, Bollywood, or sports fame, fleeting fame, and internet-famous, to name but a few. In this modern era and thanks to Mr Warhol, every citizen is guaranteed fifteen minutes in the limelight. Use it wisely.
To cite a personal experience: not long ago a tweet of mine was picked up and broadcast by CNN. What luck! I got thousands upon thousands of views and sold two books.
If you are not famous, there’s still hope. Ghostwriters can earn a good living, especially when their clients posses a fortune. And basking in the reflected glow of fame can boost sales as well. What? Consider writing about a famous person (in an unauthorized sense). Or, if you write fiction, you might base your characters on famous people (lawyers take note). This strategy works best on long-since dead famous people who have no living descendants. Legal difficulties aside, you can easily use famous settings in your work: Mount Rushmore, the Aral Sea or downtown Schenectady. Famous events are also a draw, a fortunate backdrop to your story. All such strategies can boost sales.
On to fortune. To foster a greater understanding of how this works, it is necessary to separate fame from fortune. The latter can be measured in bullion; the former in duration and intensity. While fame and fortune are not always synonymous, they are directly correlated. Rich people need not be famous but famous people are often rich. Who’s ever heard of famous poor person? And most importantly, with a fortune, you can spend your way to the best seller list.
next week: stalking
December 24, 2017
A Christmas Short
Turnpike Christmas
by MK Alexander
The holidays. Family, friends and feasting…the last two are easy, the first is not. I’m talking about family of course. And it seems the bigger the family the more complicated things become. And by large, I should say, two other brothers, two half sisters and a step brother. Add to that, a couple of step dads, two step moms, an army of nephews, a host of grandchildren, and now great grandkids. The older I got the more complicated it seemed. I will admit also, over the years a quantifiable economic disparity had crept in between the brothers, and I was on the low end of the totem pole.
A call from my older brother, the most affluent among us:
“Hey there, whatcha doing for Christmas?”
“The usual… caroling, presents under the tree, maybe some egg nog.”
“What, with your cat?”
“Yeah, well— how are the kids?” I changed the subject as quickly as I could. He was right about the cat, my only companion these days… Divorced dad with my own kids all grown up and gone. I did have plans however. I had already bought two cans of Fancy Feast: Wild-Caught Salmon Florentine, in a Delicate Sauce. And I won’t say I wasn’t tempted, except that they were slightly past their expiration date. My Christmas dinner would be hot pockets and a candy cane for dessert.
“Everyone’s good…” I heard my brother continue, “they all say hi to their uncle, Annie too.” There was an awkward silence. His wife Annie didn’t care for me much. It wasn’t like my brother to call unless he had some agenda. “Listen, I need a favor…”
“What’s up?”
“Well, we’re having a big do for the holidays… Of course you’re invited,” he added rhetorically.
“In Virginia? Hmm, not sure I can afford the gas and tolls.”
“Momzo is coming.”
Momzo as we called her, or Gran, was our mom. We all took turns taking care of her. She was sneaking up on ninety and didn’t drive the interstates anymore. Safety first.
“How is she getting there?”
“I’m going up the day before, all the way up to Jersey to get her. She wants to see the grandkids, and the great grandkids.”
“How is she getting back?”
“That’s the favor. I need you to pick her up.”
“When?”
“Christmas Day. Not sure what time yet.”
“Where?”
“Exit seven.”
“What?”
“On the turnpike.”
“Isn’t that like Granny-dumping?” I protested. “You gotta be kidding, right?”
“No… we’re heading to Pennsylvania— the in-laws. I’ll drop her off and you can get her back home.”
“This is crazy, I live in New York… it’s like a four hour drive with traffic.”
“Hey, you’re lucky I’m meeting you halfway. I could make you drive all the way down here— that’s like seven hours.”
“My car is like ten years old, I doubt it will make it that far. Besides, isn’t it supposed to snow or something?”
“Not that I heard.”
“I don’t like this plan.” I paused to think. “Why not get Peter to do it. He has a brand new Corvette.”
“I don’t want to ask him.”
“Why not?”
“Even Phyllis his own wife won’t get in the car with him… And you know how Momzo is, clutching the door-strap the whole ride.”
There was the other side of that equation too, driving with my mom-the-passenger. Not a backseat driver— she was in your face, like warning me to merge into the right lane when the EZ-Pass tollbooth was still about thirty miles out. She never tired of repeating herself.
“How about Greg?” I asked. “He lives closer. What’s he doing that day?”
“Home with his family, I guess.”
“Home with his new family…” I muttered. My younger brother Greg, also a victim of divorce; and now remarriage, with new kids as old as grandkids.
“You’re just going to drop her on the side of the highway?” I asked. A funny image came to mind: An old woman bundled up against the cold and leaning on her cane, shuffling up the side of the Jersey Turnpike.
“No… we’ll find someplace nearby.”
“What? Like at Rest Area?” I had visited most of them through the years: The Molly Pritchard, the Vince Lombardi, the Grover Cleveland, the Walt Whitman… And I always came away disappointed. I expected their namesakes to be present in one form or another, a costumed actor, or maybe like a giant bobble-headed mascot. I always wanted a bearded Walt Whitman to greet me in the parking lot, or pump my gas.
I heard my older brother talking logistics…
“My car doesn’t have GPS,” I protested again. “It has rust and a bad alternator.”
“How about a map?”
“I haven’t opened the glove compartment since 2003.”
“See you around six pm then.”
“What happens if I’m running late or breakdown or something?”
“What about your cell?”
“I have a burner phone— the battery’s a little dicey…”
***
I checked Google Maps: Exit 7 on the New Jersey Turnpike… Oh yeah, Six Flags Great Adventure— “More Flags, More Fun.” I was never quite sure what that marketing motto meant. Was it like the UN or something? I’d been there a long time ago, and if I remembered right, US currency was worth less than at other places. Land of the nine dollar hot dog. I didn’t have fond memories either: a near-death experience on a roller coaster, and my hand nearly bitten off by a giant emu in the safari park.
Anyway, the route took me west instead of east. I switched to satellite view and saw nothing but open fields, maybe fallow farms. My brother said I was supposed to meet her at Vera’s Biker Bar and Service. Open 24/7…Eleven miles east of the exit… Wow, four stars on Yelp.
***
Of course it snowed that morning, and I passed many an accident. Slippery conditions. Hey, a rusted Subaru, that car looks a lot like mine… I noticed when I rubber-necked passed one tragic scene. Flashing lights, blue and every other color you could think of— they seemed oddly festive today. The Turnpike was clear by the time I got there. Sanded and salted, especially sanded, I could hear it creeping its way into my engine and my axles.
At Exit 7, a squall came out of nowhere, blinding snow. A rural two-laned highway. I was only doing about forty, but was pretty sure I hit something. I heard a loud thud against the hood and something rattled under the wheels. I was instantly horrified and pulled to the shoulder. I got out and ran back towards the victim: a snowman with a red scarf; dismembered yes, but otherwise uninjured. Why he’d crept out onto the highway was baffling, though I felt somewhat relieved.
***
Festive white lights up ahead, a good sign. I didn’t expect to see the parking lot so full of snow-dusted Harleys, their gleaming chrome reminded me of ornaments. At least Vera’s place was open. I could even hear music leaking from the door, carols, it seemed to me.
“There he is… the long lost son,” a large woman called out to me as I entered the dark, cavernous place. It was festooned with holiday lights and a big tree. “Your mom’s getting worried.” She shot a glance down the other end of the bar. “Let me get you an egg nog.”
There she was, my mom, perched on a stool and encircled by attentive bikers. They all seemed to be iterations of Santa, all bearded and all in red caps with pom-pons, though not all the right age. They started nodding in consent and then burst into “Silent Night,” with my mom waving her cane to keep time.
“You’re kind of late to the party,” the bartender said, and she was probably Vera herself. “I sent the Snowman out to look for you.”
“The who?”
“The Snowman,” she said with a smile, “local guy, a regular, drives a plow…”
“Was he wearing a scarf?” I asked.
“Oh, there he is…”
The door behind me opened with a cold swoosh. A hulking man appeared at the entrance. He was dressed in a vinyl overcoat with fur trim, and utterly covered with snow except for the red scarf draped around his neck. The Snowman saddled up to the stool next to me. “Welcome to heaven,” he said.
A cat jumped into my lap. I looked down. It was my cat. This was impossible. Maybe the salmon supper had gone bad after all. I had no words at first, then it came to me. “Whose heaven, exactly?”
by MK Alexander
The holidays. Family, friends and feasting…the last two are easy, the first is not. I’m talking about family of course. And it seems the bigger the family the more complicated things become. And by large, I should say, two other brothers, two half sisters and a step brother. Add to that, a couple of step dads, two step moms, an army of nephews, a host of grandchildren, and now great grandkids. The older I got the more complicated it seemed. I will admit also, over the years a quantifiable economic disparity had crept in between the brothers, and I was on the low end of the totem pole.
A call from my older brother, the most affluent among us:
“Hey there, whatcha doing for Christmas?”
“The usual… caroling, presents under the tree, maybe some egg nog.”
“What, with your cat?”
“Yeah, well— how are the kids?” I changed the subject as quickly as I could. He was right about the cat, my only companion these days… Divorced dad with my own kids all grown up and gone. I did have plans however. I had already bought two cans of Fancy Feast: Wild-Caught Salmon Florentine, in a Delicate Sauce. And I won’t say I wasn’t tempted, except that they were slightly past their expiration date. My Christmas dinner would be hot pockets and a candy cane for dessert.
“Everyone’s good…” I heard my brother continue, “they all say hi to their uncle, Annie too.” There was an awkward silence. His wife Annie didn’t care for me much. It wasn’t like my brother to call unless he had some agenda. “Listen, I need a favor…”
“What’s up?”
“Well, we’re having a big do for the holidays… Of course you’re invited,” he added rhetorically.
“In Virginia? Hmm, not sure I can afford the gas and tolls.”
“Momzo is coming.”
Momzo as we called her, or Gran, was our mom. We all took turns taking care of her. She was sneaking up on ninety and didn’t drive the interstates anymore. Safety first.
“How is she getting there?”
“I’m going up the day before, all the way up to Jersey to get her. She wants to see the grandkids, and the great grandkids.”
“How is she getting back?”
“That’s the favor. I need you to pick her up.”
“When?”
“Christmas Day. Not sure what time yet.”
“Where?”
“Exit seven.”
“What?”
“On the turnpike.”
“Isn’t that like Granny-dumping?” I protested. “You gotta be kidding, right?”
“No… we’re heading to Pennsylvania— the in-laws. I’ll drop her off and you can get her back home.”
“This is crazy, I live in New York… it’s like a four hour drive with traffic.”
“Hey, you’re lucky I’m meeting you halfway. I could make you drive all the way down here— that’s like seven hours.”
“My car is like ten years old, I doubt it will make it that far. Besides, isn’t it supposed to snow or something?”
“Not that I heard.”
“I don’t like this plan.” I paused to think. “Why not get Peter to do it. He has a brand new Corvette.”
“I don’t want to ask him.”
“Why not?”
“Even Phyllis his own wife won’t get in the car with him… And you know how Momzo is, clutching the door-strap the whole ride.”
There was the other side of that equation too, driving with my mom-the-passenger. Not a backseat driver— she was in your face, like warning me to merge into the right lane when the EZ-Pass tollbooth was still about thirty miles out. She never tired of repeating herself.
“How about Greg?” I asked. “He lives closer. What’s he doing that day?”
“Home with his family, I guess.”
“Home with his new family…” I muttered. My younger brother Greg, also a victim of divorce; and now remarriage, with new kids as old as grandkids.
“You’re just going to drop her on the side of the highway?” I asked. A funny image came to mind: An old woman bundled up against the cold and leaning on her cane, shuffling up the side of the Jersey Turnpike.
“No… we’ll find someplace nearby.”
“What? Like at Rest Area?” I had visited most of them through the years: The Molly Pritchard, the Vince Lombardi, the Grover Cleveland, the Walt Whitman… And I always came away disappointed. I expected their namesakes to be present in one form or another, a costumed actor, or maybe like a giant bobble-headed mascot. I always wanted a bearded Walt Whitman to greet me in the parking lot, or pump my gas.
I heard my older brother talking logistics…
“My car doesn’t have GPS,” I protested again. “It has rust and a bad alternator.”
“How about a map?”
“I haven’t opened the glove compartment since 2003.”
“See you around six pm then.”
“What happens if I’m running late or breakdown or something?”
“What about your cell?”
“I have a burner phone— the battery’s a little dicey…”
***
I checked Google Maps: Exit 7 on the New Jersey Turnpike… Oh yeah, Six Flags Great Adventure— “More Flags, More Fun.” I was never quite sure what that marketing motto meant. Was it like the UN or something? I’d been there a long time ago, and if I remembered right, US currency was worth less than at other places. Land of the nine dollar hot dog. I didn’t have fond memories either: a near-death experience on a roller coaster, and my hand nearly bitten off by a giant emu in the safari park.
Anyway, the route took me west instead of east. I switched to satellite view and saw nothing but open fields, maybe fallow farms. My brother said I was supposed to meet her at Vera’s Biker Bar and Service. Open 24/7…Eleven miles east of the exit… Wow, four stars on Yelp.
***
Of course it snowed that morning, and I passed many an accident. Slippery conditions. Hey, a rusted Subaru, that car looks a lot like mine… I noticed when I rubber-necked passed one tragic scene. Flashing lights, blue and every other color you could think of— they seemed oddly festive today. The Turnpike was clear by the time I got there. Sanded and salted, especially sanded, I could hear it creeping its way into my engine and my axles.
At Exit 7, a squall came out of nowhere, blinding snow. A rural two-laned highway. I was only doing about forty, but was pretty sure I hit something. I heard a loud thud against the hood and something rattled under the wheels. I was instantly horrified and pulled to the shoulder. I got out and ran back towards the victim: a snowman with a red scarf; dismembered yes, but otherwise uninjured. Why he’d crept out onto the highway was baffling, though I felt somewhat relieved.
***
Festive white lights up ahead, a good sign. I didn’t expect to see the parking lot so full of snow-dusted Harleys, their gleaming chrome reminded me of ornaments. At least Vera’s place was open. I could even hear music leaking from the door, carols, it seemed to me.
“There he is… the long lost son,” a large woman called out to me as I entered the dark, cavernous place. It was festooned with holiday lights and a big tree. “Your mom’s getting worried.” She shot a glance down the other end of the bar. “Let me get you an egg nog.”
There she was, my mom, perched on a stool and encircled by attentive bikers. They all seemed to be iterations of Santa, all bearded and all in red caps with pom-pons, though not all the right age. They started nodding in consent and then burst into “Silent Night,” with my mom waving her cane to keep time.
“You’re kind of late to the party,” the bartender said, and she was probably Vera herself. “I sent the Snowman out to look for you.”
“The who?”
“The Snowman,” she said with a smile, “local guy, a regular, drives a plow…”
“Was he wearing a scarf?” I asked.
“Oh, there he is…”
The door behind me opened with a cold swoosh. A hulking man appeared at the entrance. He was dressed in a vinyl overcoat with fur trim, and utterly covered with snow except for the red scarf draped around his neck. The Snowman saddled up to the stool next to me. “Welcome to heaven,” he said.
A cat jumped into my lap. I looked down. It was my cat. This was impossible. Maybe the salmon supper had gone bad after all. I had no words at first, then it came to me. “Whose heaven, exactly?”
December 17, 2017
Sell More Books, Part 6: Pricing
Ten Ways to Sell More Books
6. Pricing for Indie-Authors
There’s nothing simple about setting the right price for your book, though common sense dictates: the cheaper the book, the more copies you’re likely to sell. It’s up to you to do the math: sell 100 copies at 99 cents each and reap 99 dollars— oh wait, make that $33 in Amazon money. Or, sell ten copies for $9.99 and make about $70 in “royalties.”
Hmm…. some sort of middle ground might be appropriate because in the end there’s a caveat: Selling even the most amazing book at such a low price begs lower expectations from the reader.
The noted 18th century philosopher and economist Adam Smith got a lot of things right. So right, we base our modern capitalistic society on his ideas… That said, modern digital publishing has made a mockery of the famous axiom: Supply and Demand.
While these rules still generally hold true, “infinite supply” has thrown a monkey wrench into the whole idea of how to price your book, specifically for the indie-author.
Infinite supply? Think copy and paste. Even when protected by DRM, the supply of your humble little ebook can exceed all the atoms in the universe. Surely, this has an effect on pricing, or at the very least, it affects people’s judgement— both readers and writers alike.
Somehow, despite months of research, years of work, countless hours of frustration and despair, and not to mention the outpouring of your very soul, your ebook is worth less in this modern age. In a perfect world, it should be priced accordingly; if you’re lucky, it’s worth 99 cents.
Trouble is, people don’t really see an ebook as a thing; it’s not an object, no pages to dog-ear, not something you can put on your shelf to gather dust. It’s a just vaporous download…
Back to the good old days of print books for a moment… Ah, when Supply and Demand reigned supreme… An illuminated manuscript could be worth a king’s ransom. Books were scarce and all those monk-hours add up. Limited editions and rare books still hold their value, better than used Prius at least. Adam Smith would be happy.
And these days are not absent quite yet. Most indie-authors rely on POD (print on demand) services for their paperback edition. Here, supply exactly equals demand, (unless you have boxes and boxes of your opus stowed in the kitchen). But this comes at a cost. The price per unit is far higher than you might hope. You cannot sell it for 99 cents.
This brings us back to Supply and Demand. With self-publishing now wholly democratized, the supply of new books and writers is ever-increasing. With the demise of public education (and other factors), the supply of readers is ever-diminishing. A sinister combination for the would-be author. No less than the economic erosion of creativity.
How low can we go? Surely, a new trend is to emerge. Soon enough it seems, we’ll be paying readers to enjoy our books. A kind of negative pricing scheme. The more readers you can afford to pay, the more likely you’ll have a best-seller.
next week: fame and fortune
6. Pricing for Indie-Authors
There’s nothing simple about setting the right price for your book, though common sense dictates: the cheaper the book, the more copies you’re likely to sell. It’s up to you to do the math: sell 100 copies at 99 cents each and reap 99 dollars— oh wait, make that $33 in Amazon money. Or, sell ten copies for $9.99 and make about $70 in “royalties.”
Hmm…. some sort of middle ground might be appropriate because in the end there’s a caveat: Selling even the most amazing book at such a low price begs lower expectations from the reader.
The noted 18th century philosopher and economist Adam Smith got a lot of things right. So right, we base our modern capitalistic society on his ideas… That said, modern digital publishing has made a mockery of the famous axiom: Supply and Demand.
While these rules still generally hold true, “infinite supply” has thrown a monkey wrench into the whole idea of how to price your book, specifically for the indie-author.
Infinite supply? Think copy and paste. Even when protected by DRM, the supply of your humble little ebook can exceed all the atoms in the universe. Surely, this has an effect on pricing, or at the very least, it affects people’s judgement— both readers and writers alike.
Somehow, despite months of research, years of work, countless hours of frustration and despair, and not to mention the outpouring of your very soul, your ebook is worth less in this modern age. In a perfect world, it should be priced accordingly; if you’re lucky, it’s worth 99 cents.
Trouble is, people don’t really see an ebook as a thing; it’s not an object, no pages to dog-ear, not something you can put on your shelf to gather dust. It’s a just vaporous download…
Back to the good old days of print books for a moment… Ah, when Supply and Demand reigned supreme… An illuminated manuscript could be worth a king’s ransom. Books were scarce and all those monk-hours add up. Limited editions and rare books still hold their value, better than used Prius at least. Adam Smith would be happy.
And these days are not absent quite yet. Most indie-authors rely on POD (print on demand) services for their paperback edition. Here, supply exactly equals demand, (unless you have boxes and boxes of your opus stowed in the kitchen). But this comes at a cost. The price per unit is far higher than you might hope. You cannot sell it for 99 cents.
This brings us back to Supply and Demand. With self-publishing now wholly democratized, the supply of new books and writers is ever-increasing. With the demise of public education (and other factors), the supply of readers is ever-diminishing. A sinister combination for the would-be author. No less than the economic erosion of creativity.
How low can we go? Surely, a new trend is to emerge. Soon enough it seems, we’ll be paying readers to enjoy our books. A kind of negative pricing scheme. The more readers you can afford to pay, the more likely you’ll have a best-seller.
next week: fame and fortune
December 10, 2017
Sell More Books, Part 5. Reviews
Reviews
Do reviews sell books? Of course, it’s common sense. And numbers count. As humans we have a deeply-rooted tribal nature, and as such, we are easily influenced by fellow tribespeople. If she liked it then it must be good; if he liked it, maybe I’ll buy it… and on and on… Usually this snowball effect is a good thing, unless you’re lemming.
These same evolutionary vestiges are at the root of modern “celebritydom” — something I’ll touch upon in a moment. For now, I’m still baffled as to how and why certain people rise to such a lofty status.
Even bad reviews sell books. Again, numbers count. A book with hundred one-star reviews will sell more than a book with one five-star review (thanks, mom!) All those one stars usually lead to morbid curiosity: Could it really be that bad? Or maybe it’s so bad it’s good. In the best case scenario, someone might rise to your defense or take pity and throw a few extra stars your way.
Keep in mind, even here on Goodreads, “Moby Dick” by Herman Melville only gets 3.5 stars. What? Is that possible? It’s best to chill. It’s something you have absolutely no control over. Even Kirkus knows this and they’re happy to hit you up for six hundred bucks— if you ask for their opinion. Life isn’t fair and neither are reviewers:
“The author has poured their heart and soul out in these pages. Musical prose, purposeful plotting, characters so intriguing, I’d invite any of them into my bedroom… Overall a sterling effort, however, the author fails to employ the Oxford Comma. —2 stars.”
Life it seems to have less of an agenda.
If you’re like me and loads of other indie-writers, your reviews are probably scattered across the web, everywhere from Amazon.br to
Smashwords. From Kobo to B&N. On Vera’s Book Blog, or the now defunct Borders, even here on Goodreads. Numbers count, and you’d have them if all your reviews were in the same place. There’s an idea…
Now on to the holy grail of reviews: the celebrity review! (We all know what Oprah can do.) Of course this has the potential to backfire. Dick Cheney reviewed several of my books and sales plummeted. And this danger increases daily. Many cherished celebs are looking a bit tarnished. It’s probably not a good idea to send a copy of your novel to Judge Roy Moore.
But… Imagine your delight when you wake up one morning to find that none other than Tom Hanks has left a mostly favorable review on Amazon. Wow, surely a ticket to the big time… Wait, he spelled his own name wrong: —Tom Hankz
next week: pricing
Do reviews sell books? Of course, it’s common sense. And numbers count. As humans we have a deeply-rooted tribal nature, and as such, we are easily influenced by fellow tribespeople. If she liked it then it must be good; if he liked it, maybe I’ll buy it… and on and on… Usually this snowball effect is a good thing, unless you’re lemming.
These same evolutionary vestiges are at the root of modern “celebritydom” — something I’ll touch upon in a moment. For now, I’m still baffled as to how and why certain people rise to such a lofty status.
Even bad reviews sell books. Again, numbers count. A book with hundred one-star reviews will sell more than a book with one five-star review (thanks, mom!) All those one stars usually lead to morbid curiosity: Could it really be that bad? Or maybe it’s so bad it’s good. In the best case scenario, someone might rise to your defense or take pity and throw a few extra stars your way.
Keep in mind, even here on Goodreads, “Moby Dick” by Herman Melville only gets 3.5 stars. What? Is that possible? It’s best to chill. It’s something you have absolutely no control over. Even Kirkus knows this and they’re happy to hit you up for six hundred bucks— if you ask for their opinion. Life isn’t fair and neither are reviewers:
“The author has poured their heart and soul out in these pages. Musical prose, purposeful plotting, characters so intriguing, I’d invite any of them into my bedroom… Overall a sterling effort, however, the author fails to employ the Oxford Comma. —2 stars.”
Life it seems to have less of an agenda.
If you’re like me and loads of other indie-writers, your reviews are probably scattered across the web, everywhere from Amazon.br to
Smashwords. From Kobo to B&N. On Vera’s Book Blog, or the now defunct Borders, even here on Goodreads. Numbers count, and you’d have them if all your reviews were in the same place. There’s an idea…
Now on to the holy grail of reviews: the celebrity review! (We all know what Oprah can do.) Of course this has the potential to backfire. Dick Cheney reviewed several of my books and sales plummeted. And this danger increases daily. Many cherished celebs are looking a bit tarnished. It’s probably not a good idea to send a copy of your novel to Judge Roy Moore.
But… Imagine your delight when you wake up one morning to find that none other than Tom Hanks has left a mostly favorable review on Amazon. Wow, surely a ticket to the big time… Wait, he spelled his own name wrong: —Tom Hankz
next week: pricing
December 3, 2017
Sell More Books, Part 4. How to Build a Following
4. How to Build a Following
I’ve often heard it takes about ten years for an author to establish themselves. And I have to guess, that means writing more than one book per decade. Prolific or not, the road to fame and fortune is a long one, and the reason for this might have to with how difficult it is to build a following. Fans, readers, reviewers.
A brief history seems in order:
Around 200 BC, Emperor (and author) Qin Shi Huang of China was the first to build a following— literally. Some eight thousand clay soldiers were fashioned and baked in a kiln. There was a flaw in this plan however; none of the life-sized warriors were particularly fond of reading and very few actually left reviews. The emperor’s lovely collection of romantic sonnets fell into the slush pile only months after his death.
Centuries later, in the early 1800’s, the obscure British author, Jude Hastings struck upon the idea to gather an entire army of reviewers, some forty-thousand strong. It seemed like a solid plan and at first things were favorable. However, Mr Hastings could not possibly anticipate that they would fight amongst themselves. Chaos ensued. Perhaps it’s needless to say his great opus, “Lady Godiva’s Pony” is now lost to history.
In modern times, our armies are virtual but they all fall prey to the same drawbacks. Twenty thousand Russian follow-back bots on twitter serve no one but Putin. Facebook friends, who really only know your mom (and who post nothing but what’s on their dinner plate), are also generally useless. That email list of all people you’ve known since high school? Well, unless they have true penchant for being constantly annoyed, I’m not sure they can be counted as followers.
The pitfalls listed above are obvious. The question becomes: What kind of army should it be? What kind of followers should you seek? The answer is surprisingly easy: Book-bloggers, readers, reviewers, and die-hard fans. If one lesson is learned, loyalty is all.
You may have noticed by now that I’ve completely avoided the question of “how.” How do you build a following? The answer is surprisingly difficult. In the end we can only listen to the incessant voices whispering inside Kevin Costner’s head: “Write it and they will come…”
next week: reviews
I’ve often heard it takes about ten years for an author to establish themselves. And I have to guess, that means writing more than one book per decade. Prolific or not, the road to fame and fortune is a long one, and the reason for this might have to with how difficult it is to build a following. Fans, readers, reviewers.
A brief history seems in order:
Around 200 BC, Emperor (and author) Qin Shi Huang of China was the first to build a following— literally. Some eight thousand clay soldiers were fashioned and baked in a kiln. There was a flaw in this plan however; none of the life-sized warriors were particularly fond of reading and very few actually left reviews. The emperor’s lovely collection of romantic sonnets fell into the slush pile only months after his death.
Centuries later, in the early 1800’s, the obscure British author, Jude Hastings struck upon the idea to gather an entire army of reviewers, some forty-thousand strong. It seemed like a solid plan and at first things were favorable. However, Mr Hastings could not possibly anticipate that they would fight amongst themselves. Chaos ensued. Perhaps it’s needless to say his great opus, “Lady Godiva’s Pony” is now lost to history.
In modern times, our armies are virtual but they all fall prey to the same drawbacks. Twenty thousand Russian follow-back bots on twitter serve no one but Putin. Facebook friends, who really only know your mom (and who post nothing but what’s on their dinner plate), are also generally useless. That email list of all people you’ve known since high school? Well, unless they have true penchant for being constantly annoyed, I’m not sure they can be counted as followers.
The pitfalls listed above are obvious. The question becomes: What kind of army should it be? What kind of followers should you seek? The answer is surprisingly easy: Book-bloggers, readers, reviewers, and die-hard fans. If one lesson is learned, loyalty is all.
You may have noticed by now that I’ve completely avoided the question of “how.” How do you build a following? The answer is surprisingly difficult. In the end we can only listen to the incessant voices whispering inside Kevin Costner’s head: “Write it and they will come…”
next week: reviews
November 26, 2017
Sell More Books: 3. Genre-Bending
Does genre-bending (more properly, genre-blending) sell more books? Absolutely! It’s simply a matter of numbers. Here’s an example: you normally write romance; your new opus is set in the past— bingo— “historical romance.”
If there are a million romance readers and a million lovers of historical fiction you’ve doubled your sales in one fell swoop— perhaps. The technical word is “cross-over.”
Of course this works best with fiction. It’s more difficult if you write general interest stuff, or nonfiction. For example, “Zombie Accountancy, A How-To Guide,” might not sell as well as you hope.
Not all genres lend themselves to bending, but most do. And I’m not advocating that adding zombies to your work will help sell books, but it does. Here are a few illustrative examples taken from recent best-sellers:
Zombie Romance:
“I can look beyond your rotting flesh and see your heart,” she gurgled. “I love you more than brains…” Delilah leaned into me with a kiss, and a bit of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. It was so very endearing…
— from “Red Wedding, Eternal Love”
Zombie Detectives:
Chief Inspector Mortimer turned slowly and asked, “Where is Patrolman Hank this evening?”
“Oh… he was caught tampering with the crime scene and re-assigned to traffic duty.”
“Snacking on the job again, eh? I for one will miss his witty repartee,” the inspector chuckled. “But on to business. We must now determine which of these injuries were made post-mortem…”
— from “The Graveside Murders”
Historical Zombies:
The Duke of Wellington sat back on his steed with a smug, satisfied smile. Before him lay thousands of dead Frenchmen covered in blood and grime, their tricolor uniforms barely recognizable. What he failed to understand in that moment was how he had just played into Bonaparte’s hands. The dead began rise and soon a low chorus of “cerveaux…” could be heard filling the battlefield.
—from “Wellington’s Waterloo”
Pro-Tip:
Always check the BISAC Subject Codes before you begin the bending process.
Next Week: How to Build a Following
If there are a million romance readers and a million lovers of historical fiction you’ve doubled your sales in one fell swoop— perhaps. The technical word is “cross-over.”
Of course this works best with fiction. It’s more difficult if you write general interest stuff, or nonfiction. For example, “Zombie Accountancy, A How-To Guide,” might not sell as well as you hope.
Not all genres lend themselves to bending, but most do. And I’m not advocating that adding zombies to your work will help sell books, but it does. Here are a few illustrative examples taken from recent best-sellers:
Zombie Romance:
“I can look beyond your rotting flesh and see your heart,” she gurgled. “I love you more than brains…” Delilah leaned into me with a kiss, and a bit of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. It was so very endearing…
— from “Red Wedding, Eternal Love”
Zombie Detectives:
Chief Inspector Mortimer turned slowly and asked, “Where is Patrolman Hank this evening?”
“Oh… he was caught tampering with the crime scene and re-assigned to traffic duty.”
“Snacking on the job again, eh? I for one will miss his witty repartee,” the inspector chuckled. “But on to business. We must now determine which of these injuries were made post-mortem…”
— from “The Graveside Murders”
Historical Zombies:
The Duke of Wellington sat back on his steed with a smug, satisfied smile. Before him lay thousands of dead Frenchmen covered in blood and grime, their tricolor uniforms barely recognizable. What he failed to understand in that moment was how he had just played into Bonaparte’s hands. The dead began rise and soon a low chorus of “cerveaux…” could be heard filling the battlefield.
—from “Wellington’s Waterloo”
Pro-Tip:
Always check the BISAC Subject Codes before you begin the bending process.
Next Week: How to Build a Following
November 19, 2017
Sell More Books Part 2. Cover Wars
I won’t belabor last week’s discussion about book titles, except to say most accountants I’ve met don’t have rippling abs or heaving bosoms. Let’s turn to the trite saying: “Never judge a book by its cover…”
In the earlier days of book publishing, say the 16th or 17th century, I’d have to guess book covers looked pretty much the same. So if you were judging back then, you were probably wondering what kind of animal skin was employed— goat, sheep, cow, or other… I’ll end this here before I go on about the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis. “Klaatu barada nikto…”
Centuries later, the dust jacket was invented and everything changed. What was inside the pages could be reflected on the outside cover— in theory at least. With the advent of inexpensive full color printing (think mass-market paperbacks), things changed again and probably for the worse. Promises made on the outside rarely lived up to the prose on the inside.
In our modern era, the cover is all, like it or not. It’s spread across a million screens. It’s your face, it’s your smile, it’s your first impression. Make it count. If you have any funds set aside for marketing and promotion, meagre or not, spend that sum on cover design. A good cover sells books— simple.
“Oh, but I’m a starving artist,” I hear you say. “I won’t spend good money on graphic design and typography. I’d rather eat.” Good luck to you then; DIY (free) covers are readily available nowadays. Might I suggest Zapf Chancery All Caps, or Tekton Bold, set upon a teal background?
Okay, so what’s a good cover? It must do three things: 1. Elicit an emotional response; 2. Stand apart from a gazillion other covers; 3. Give the buyer a clue to what’s inside. Easier said than done.
Sad but true: the worst book in the world with a great cover will far outsell the best book in the world with a bad one. It begs the question of course, why are you a writer in the first place? In this scenario you’ll end up with an angry mob of pissed-off readers, or alternatively, very few readers who’ve been pleasantly surprised.
next week: genre-bending
In the earlier days of book publishing, say the 16th or 17th century, I’d have to guess book covers looked pretty much the same. So if you were judging back then, you were probably wondering what kind of animal skin was employed— goat, sheep, cow, or other… I’ll end this here before I go on about the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis. “Klaatu barada nikto…”
Centuries later, the dust jacket was invented and everything changed. What was inside the pages could be reflected on the outside cover— in theory at least. With the advent of inexpensive full color printing (think mass-market paperbacks), things changed again and probably for the worse. Promises made on the outside rarely lived up to the prose on the inside.
In our modern era, the cover is all, like it or not. It’s spread across a million screens. It’s your face, it’s your smile, it’s your first impression. Make it count. If you have any funds set aside for marketing and promotion, meagre or not, spend that sum on cover design. A good cover sells books— simple.
“Oh, but I’m a starving artist,” I hear you say. “I won’t spend good money on graphic design and typography. I’d rather eat.” Good luck to you then; DIY (free) covers are readily available nowadays. Might I suggest Zapf Chancery All Caps, or Tekton Bold, set upon a teal background?
Okay, so what’s a good cover? It must do three things: 1. Elicit an emotional response; 2. Stand apart from a gazillion other covers; 3. Give the buyer a clue to what’s inside. Easier said than done.
Sad but true: the worst book in the world with a great cover will far outsell the best book in the world with a bad one. It begs the question of course, why are you a writer in the first place? In this scenario you’ll end up with an angry mob of pissed-off readers, or alternatively, very few readers who’ve been pleasantly surprised.
next week: genre-bending
