THE EXPERIMENT
Early this year, after getting excited by what the Self-Publishing Podcast crew was up to, and after seeing a friend have great success with it, I decided to try my hand at a serialized novel. Serials were clearly working for a lot of people and it looked like fun on both the writing side (new format!) and the publishing side (a new release every week!).
So I set to work, and by April, I was ready to fling mine out into the world. How did it go?
Well, for the TL:DR version, and my all-time favorite post on the matter of selling serials vs. novels, see Susan Kaye Quinn. The slightly longer version is this: there are advantages to writing serials, but they don’t sell themselves any more than novels do. So if your new release strategies are based on, say, advertising novel-length works, releasing story/novella-length episodes might present you with a challenge.
Anyway, back to my results. I wrote a time travel thriller called The Cutting Room. I decided to write 6 episodes, each one running between 12,000-16,000 words and 84,000 in total, with a TV-style arc. I found a pre-made cover from James at the excellent Go On Write and, for a few bucks more, got him to set me up with six distinct looks as well as a full-length version (a 3D box set version, and a 2D version for Apple, which won’t take 3D covers). Individual episodes looked like this:
Not an ideal nailing of the genre, but suggestive of it, and perfect for the mood. In any event, enjoy the pictures now, because a wall of text is about to follow.
OUT INTO THE WORLD!
The first episode went live April 22, 2013. I alerted my Facebook page, then sent to my mailing list the next day. Neither was huge at that time—my FB page was probably around 100 Likes, as I recall, and my mailing list around 300—but that and some advertising had done quite well for the third book in my Breakers series two months earlier.
Excitement! The first day, I sold.. 4 copies. By the end of the first week, I was sitting pretty at 31. (Amazon.com numbers only—Amazon UK and B&N probably put that around 40, but I didn’t keep records for them.)
Well.
Don’t get me wrong, that’s not bad, given the modest size of my lists and the fact I was offering them a new series in a different format. But by comparison, Breakers #3, augmented by some serious ads, had moved 767 copies on .com in its first week. By contrast, this was looking like a bust.
But the advantage of serialization is you don’t get one release, you get a bunch. Six, in my case. With so many books hanging out as new releases, they should pull each other up the charts. Ideally.
Mine didn’t. To cut to the chase, each episode performed about the same. 25-30 copies sold its first week, about twice that in its first month. In an attempt to kick things up a notch, I made the first episode permafree about three weeks in. That helped a little, but with no way to advertise it on the freebie sites (too short), there was no significant bump.
Here is a chart of my first few weeks. It is mostly made of sad.
This is how each episode fared over its first ten days. Again, Amazon US only. Sales are cumulative; i.e., by day 3, episode #1 had sold 23 copies. Each episode was released exactly a week after the first. So in this chart, Day 1 for episode #2 happened on Day 8 after #1 was released. According to my records, #1 went free the day #4 went live. Also, you’ll note these numbers don’t perfectly match up to the ones I quoted above. That’s because I didn’t start pushing the episodes until the day after they went live, so that’s where I started counting for the chart.
Anyway, not a lot to see here. Every week was about the same as the one before it. At least the few people who got into it stuck with it!
Mostly, the lackluster results were because none of my launches was ever significant enough to start getting the books recommended to other readers. I think that if my first couple days of sales had been 30-60 rather than 10-15, I would have seen growth from episode to episode. Without hitting high enough to garner an internal push from Amazon, I was selling to the same group of saps each week (my readers). (That’s a joke, my readers are the best because they read my books, QED.)
So was it a bust? Well, I’d sold a few hundred copies of the episodes, which was better than a sharp stick in the anything. But my serial didn’t really expand my audience—my primary commercial reason for this experiment—so it certainly felt like a failure at the time. So much so that, before the final episode went live, I altered its ending to be a little more self-contained, so the book could better function as a standalone. (I had ideas for at least one more book if it took off.) Rewriting to audience response (or lack of it) was a fun experience, one you could never pull off in a novel. So, there was that. Overall, however, I was disappointed.
THE COMEBACK
But. I had yet to release the full book. Emboldened by my critical failure as a serialist, and with no momentum on the individual episodes, I decided to go all-out with the complete novel, releasing at $0.99 backed by whatever ads I could scrape together. Here was my cover:
I was in no hurry, and it took about a month to schedule everything, leap through Apple’s hoops, etc. Once it went live into the world, I discovered something funny: a lot of my readers hadn’t been interested in the serialized version, but they were plenty happy to pick up the full novel. With the individual episodes, my readers on FB and my mailing list were good for about 10 Amazon US sales in the first two days. With the full book, over an equal period, they were good for 54, and crossed 100 the day after that.
Then the ads kicked in. Which I could run, because this was a full-length novel, not a 15,000-word short. (Serializing gave me one advantage there, however: since some of my readers had already read the full thing, they were ready to review it right away. It was sort of like ARCs. That I made them pay for. Hahaha.)
With the initial push from my readers, the book became embedded in Amazon’s recommendation algorithms, which the ads helped amplify. Within a week, it had sold 575 copies there. I switched it to $2.99 a couple days after that. By the end of its first month, its Amazon US sales were about 1150, with another 150-200 on the other sites as well. Compare that to 50-60 sales of each episode over a similar timeframe.
Hooray for me! Wait, that’s not what this post is about; this post is about cold-blooded dissection. Where did I leave my scalpel?
LESSONS LEARNED
The first, and the biggest, is that serials aren’t a magic bullet. I guess that should be obvious. Nothing is! Earlier this year, however, it sort of felt like they were; at the very least, it seemed like serialization was a sure-fire way to expand your audience through the boost given to each new release.
For me, it didn’t (except maybe a little bit at Kobo). It could be the book or some part of its presentation hampered it, but whatever the cause, my episodes never gained enough momentum for the algos to take them off to the races.
Know what though, we can break this down. Here’s the main cause of my failure to launch: a) I was starting a new series my readers weren’t familiar with b) in a format they weren’t used to buying (serial rather than novel) c) with a limited fanbase to begin with (~400-500 potential readers on my lists) and d) with no outside sources to augment that potential readership; the episodes were too short to advertise in the venues I was familiar with, and I wasn’t creative enough to find alternate ways to reach people.
So basically, the only people buying the episodes were my core, core readers. The people who would buy and read the Kleenex I just sneezed into. If you’re looking at serializing purely for the benefit of multiple new releases, take a long hard look at your audience and understand that most of them aren’t going to follow your experiment right away.
Genre is part of this equation, too. Serials work better in some genres because those readers are actively searching for new content. Romance, definitely. Erotica/erom, for sure. Zombies, I think so. Time travel special ops? I.. no. No, there’s no rabid readership waiting for the next one of those to drop.
ON THE UPSIDE…
I’m talkin’ all mercenary here, but this experience was a ton of fun. Publishing a new episode every week was a blast. I would love to do that again.
Now, back to mercenary sales talk! Additionally, the format of serials provides you with many opportunities you don’t have publishing full-length novels. After the tepid response to the initial episodes, I was able to adjust my promotional tactics on the fly, permafreeing the first episode before the last was out. Not only that, but I was able to change the last episode itself based on this (lack of) response—since it looked like the season was a failure, sales-wise, I revised the ending to let the book function as more of a standalone story that would, hopefully, be more satisfying and self-contained. ‘Cause I sure as hell wasn’t gonna write a sequel to something nobody appeared to want!
There are obvious dangers with making changes like that, but being able to adjust and adapt to reader response is an incredible option to have in your back pocket.
Also, now that the full book is out there, I still have episode one free pointing to the whole thing. It doesn’t give away copies in the volume that a full book does, but it’s a nice little long-term funnel.
HOW TO DO IT BETTER
First: stick with it. My first season didn’t see any growth from episode to episode, but quite a few people wound up picking up the full novel. I think that, if I were to do more seasons, I would do a lot better. Mostly because my lists are much bigger these days. But also because I’ll have created a readership for The Cutting Room and that readership will be more used to serialization, meaning more of them would pick it up right off the bat.
Along similar lines, it would help lots to serialize something in a series/world where you’ve already got readers. Those people are already waiting for the next installment, whatever it is. That’s going to reduce a lot of their resistance to purchase a different format.
Note that I’m not saying everyone should serialize the next novel in their popular series. Just that, if you are interested in trying a serial, it’s going to help if your readers are already into the world. You could do a spinoff, say; pick up a secondary character or storyline and branch out into that in a serialized format. Now I’d better quit exploring this idea before I convince myself to do it.
Another area to explore with serials is pricing. When I released mine, I screwed up royally. Since $0.99 is the lowest you can charge for an ebook, those faithful readers who picked up The Cutting Room episode by episode paid $5.94. Then when I released the full book, I kicked it out the door at $0.99. That was due to circumstances forcing my hand, but.. that is not how you want to treat your most loyal readers, haha.
So, here’s my wonkiest idea of all: use inverted pricing. Price your episodes so buying them all will cost less than the full book. If you have 4 episodes, buying them will cost a minimum of $3.96; thus, sell your episodes at $0.99, and let your readers know that if they wait to buy the full book, well, it’s gonna cost $4.99. If you’ve got 6 eps, buying them one by one will run them $5.94, but the collection is going to be set at $7.99.
MADNESS!
Yes. Madness. A higher price will make the full-length book less appealing to readers who stumble onto it later. But that price doesn’t have to be permanent; when you get to season two, you could cut a couple bucks off the price of the complete season one. Either way, season one will still have a permafree entry point going for it. You might even package the first two episodes into a double-length pilot, the way a lot of TV shows do, and set that free to help people choose whether to plunk down for the full book. Size matters, gentlemen. If that double-length pilot is up around the 40K word range, you might have an easier time advertising it.
In any event, the point of inverted pricing isn’t to make money here and now on the full-length novels. It’s to take advantage of the perks of multiple new releases, reaching new readers episode by episode, expanding your reach each time. It’s a short-term hit for a long-term gain, Amazon-style.
GOOD LORD THIS IS AS LONG AS A KKR BLOG!
This post has largely banged on about sales, but serializing a novel was a really, really fun experience. I don’t want that to get lost in all the numbers-talk. Serializing challenged me to think about story structure in a new way, and publishing a new episode every single week was tremendously enjoyable. Despite the difficulties, I’d love to try it again some time.
It also taught me a lot about why books sell. Much of what I learned is very basic—people are more likely to buy what they already know and like, be that novel-length fiction or a world they’re already familiar with—but the fact it’s simple means it’s all that more valuable to understand.
The other very simple thing it taught me: episodes aren’t novels. Trying to sell serialized fiction is a much different world than trying to sell full-length books, complete with different advantages and different challenges. If you’re going to try a serial, I would examine those challenges ahead of time and do your best to nullify them.
Maybe that’s just a matter of sticking with it.
Big news today: next month, Amazon is rolling out the Kindle MatchBook program.
What is MatchBook? Well, why don’t I just lazily quote their FAQ:
“The Kindle MatchBook program offers customers who purchase, or have previously purchased, a print book from Amazon.com the option to purchase the Kindle version of that title for $2.99 or less. If you have a print version of your title and enroll the Kindle version in Kindle MatchBook you can earn a royalty from Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) based on the Promotional List Price (choose from $2.99, $1.99, $0.99, or free) for any Kindle MatchBook sale.”
That could be the entire post, really.
For context, this morning I was reading a cool post by Courtney Milan about estimating the value of your book’s rights. In it, she compares the value of a hypothetical trad contract vs. what you’d earn self-publishing it. Overall, it’s a very reasonable piece that isn’t about banner-waving for one side or the other, but is rather about assessing the money value of either option so you can make the best decision about which route to take.
The problem, sort of, is that she compares both examples over a 35-year span. On the one hand, when you’re talking about book contracts that can for last decades beyond your death–although she points out the rather neat fact that all authors can reclaim their rights after 35 years–it’s perfectly valid to assess the long-term pros and cons about signing such a contract.
On the other hand… who knows how things are going to look 5 years from now, let alone 35.
So, given that the future of the book industry and ebooks in particular is so unknowable, there’s an argument to be made that up-front money–i.e. an advance–should be weighted more heavily than long-term royalty projections. Which isn’t to say I think Courtney’s wrong; her projections sound very reasonable, and thus helpful in reaching a decision about what to do with your book. This is just something to think about.
Anyway, over the course of discussing the ongoing chaos that is present-day publishing, I went to look at how many new ebooks are currently being published. Late last December, I noted there were 1.8 million titles in the Kindle store. Checking the numbers today, there are just over 2.1 million.
300,000 new titles in a little under 8 months.
Prorate that for the rest of 2013, and that’s roughly 472,000 new books.
1293 every day.
54 per hour.
A new ebook is being published to Amazon almost every minute.
I don’t have any particularly strong insight into this. Besides maybe “Holy shit.” But, to circle back to long-term projections, if books continued to be published at the current rate, then 35 years from now, the Kindle store would contain about 18,620,000 books. Nearly nine times as many titles as are available today.
Or not, because 35 years from now, there may well not be a “Kindle” store. I have no earthly idea.
For the record, I’ll readily admit that “Oh man I have no idea how to even begin to approach this” is far less useful than “Here is one method to help you assess the value of your book rights in regards to whether to sell them to a publisher or maintain them for yourself.”
I think Courtney has laid out a very good process for decision-making. It’s a great post. But hard numbers can provoke confidence. I would like to use a few other numbers to illustrate how far away publishing in 2013 might be from publishing in 2048: one (book per minute), half a million (per year), nine (times as many as we have now).
Last year, I wrote a series of posts about what I would do if I were just getting my start as an indie author. It was intended to be a modest and simple way to get your foot in the door even if, like me, you’ve been on Facebook 18 months but still find yourself terrified that one wrong click will announce to the world that it’s been nine days since you last put on pants.
But the problem with last year is that it was last year. In the timescale of indie authors, “last year” is like another epoch. I may as well have written a guide on the best way to trap an allosaurus. Interesting, perhaps, as a historical document, but not all that relevant in this brave new world of “mammals.”
That right there is the problem. My advice, at the time, was (hopefully) relevant, because I had just graduated from indie-hobo to making a living at this (by my comically low standards). Then things changed. And they changed some more. And they changed again. When the landscape changes this fast, as soon as you take off, you no longer have a clear view of what’s happening down on the ground. By the time someone’s an expert, they’re obsolete.
That’s maybe a bit harsh. But it is absolutely critical to understand that nobody is offering bulletproof advice. And that, perversely, people with less authority–indies with little to no track record–may be in better position to offer quality advice than people who’ve sold hundreds and thousands of their books.
I don’t know where that leaves me exactly, and you know what, I’m not going to bother to figure it out. A couple weeks ago, someone asked me how to get started here and now. I’m not sure I’m qualified to answer that anymore, but it’s an interesting question. So here’s some advice and analysis! Some or all of it might be worthless! Enjoy figuring that out for yourself.
Okay. To understand what you might do differently in 2013, we should probably look at what is different. What’s changed over the last year?
First, the biggie: Select sucks. The way Amazon treats free giveaways has changed repeatedly. Right now, even people who are giving away as many as 40,000 copies of their books during a free run are often seeing just a few dozen sales afterwards.
I don’t know the exact mechanics of the latest algo change, but the results aren’t there anymore. It isn’t just about the algos, either. Back in February, Amazon changed their affiliate agreement in a way that diminished or destroyed a lot of the freebie-advertising affiliate sites. Select isn’t dead for all books and strategies, but it’s been reduced to a fraction of its former power. It’s no longer the no-duh choice for anyone, let alone new authors.
Now, some good news: Kobo threw open the doors to self-publishers, joining Amazon, B&N, and Apple as markets we can directly upload our work to. Kobo got a lot of early hype as this was happening last summer. A lot of indie gurus painted them as the next big thing, particularly in international markets.
That hasn’t exactly happened yet, so here’s my assessment of Kobo: they’re a cool company whose self-publishing wing (Writing Life) is run by great people. So far, they’ve managed to capture a few percent of the various English-speaking markets, except Canada, where they’re Godzilla. Currently, they are probably the fourth-largest market for self-published authors, who make up some 25% of their total sales. A new store is a new opportunity to be discovered.
On the distribution side, Smashwords has made a couple cool improvements, allowing you to upload epubs and to set up preorders at B&N, Kobo, and Apple. They also seem to have made modest improvements to the quality and speed of their distribution process. Bigger yet, the first real alternative to Smashwords popped into being: Draft2Digital. While they don’t publish to as many venues as Smashwords, they cover the major outlets, and generally seem to be much speedier and more responsive. It’s now significantly easier to reach the big markets like B&N, which non-US residents can’t publish to directly, and Apple, which has a steep learning curve.
In terms of advertising, BookBub exploded on the scene and is hands down the best mover of free and discount books (although that means their ads are expensive and can be hard to book). Kindle Books and Tips converted from a freebie site and now runs discount books. Their results can be a little inconsistent, but are often in the same tier as ENT and POI–pretty great, in other words. BookBlast opened up, too. Operating on the BookBub model, it isn’t yet large enough to be the cornerstone of an advertising campaign, but their rates are very fair, the results are there, and they’ve been growing steadily. There still aren’t enough ways to advertise to non-Amazon readers, but we have a few new tools at our disposal. And as long as there’s money to be made, effective advertising options should continue to grow.
Eight jillion other things happened, too, but these are the ones that feel significant to me. And they all pretty much point in the same direction: away from Select freebies and toward wide distribution bolstered by $0.99 sales.
But success with that model generally means having multiple books and building an audience in multiple markets. Which, by definition, excludes brand-new authors. So now that the easy button of Select has been disconnected, what should new authors do instead?
Well, I’ve got an idea. It’s pretty simple and obvious. But before I get to that, I want to look at an idea that’s kind of its opposite–and which is becoming an increasingly popular piece of advice. Part 2: Don’t Wait.
Psst. Hey. You like epic fantasy? How about lots of epic fantasy novels from some bestselling authors (and me) bundled for a ridiculously cheap price? Then this may be relevant to your interests: the four-book fantasy box set The Strife of Gods & Kings, currently just $0.99.
If we’ve stumbled into a Bizarro Universe where you know me, but not the other authors in the set, here’s a quick rundown. David Dalglish, author of the Half-Orcs series, is perhaps the poster boy for indie epic fantasy. He’s sold hundreds of thousands of copies by himself, and within the next year, he’ll have books coming out with both Orbit and Amazon’s 47 North.
Michael Wallace also began indie, but his Righteous thrillers boomed so big he was quickly snatched up by Amazon’s mystery imprint Thomas & Mercer, where he has sold an absurd amount of books. In addition to his thrillers, he’s written a few fantasy novels. I’m hoping some day he’ll cross back over to the Dark Side for good.
Lastly, I’m me. Hi. My book The White Tree is in here. You might like it.
I’ve read both dudes’ work. It’s great stuff and I’m honored to be in this set with them. Hope you like it.
Anyone who follows this blog knows that last May, Amazon drastically changed their popularity lists (available on the left sidebar of the main Kindle store) to change the way free downloads were factored into the ranks. On last week’s Self-Publishing Podcast #42, I was asked whether this change was done in order to present readers with better books.
The short answer: yes.
The longer answer: not necessarily better books, but certainly more profitable ones. That’s a very important distinction to make right off the bat. In all media, there’s an ongoing, centuries-long debate about whether a work’s value is based on its commercial appeal or its artistic qualities. As it turns out, I have nothing to contribute to that debate. So what follows should in no way be taken as a judgment of books that have failed to thrive under the recent Select model. Some of my books did worse as well.
But here’s what we know. Between the birth of the Select program in December 2011 and mid-March 2012, all it took for a book to hit the first few pages of its category after a free run was a few hundred downloads. 2000+ would essentially guarantee you’d be near the top of your category, probably for 2-5 days. Because a free download was weighted the same as a paid sale. And very few books are currently selling hundreds of copies per day on Amazon. Right now, about 1000 sell 100/day. Maybe 500 sell 200/day. And only something like 100 sell 500+/day. The numbers were a little lower a year ago, but not by all that much.
Meanwhile, every day, freebie aggregate blogs were pointing their readerships toward several dozen free titles. The biggest blogs had tens of thousands of subscribers, more or less guaranteeing every book featured would pick up at least 1000 downloads. There was some level of curation involved–covers had to be at least halfway decent, and there was typically a rating threshold of some kind–but the blogs had no real way to test the commercial potential of the books they mentioned. And when a book is free, the resistance to downloading it is much, much lower than when that book has a price tag attached to it.
The result is that a lot of books with lower commercial appeal wound up displacing books with higher commercial appeal. On Amazon’s popularity lists, 1000 free downloads beat 100 paid sales, and new Select books were picking up thousands of free downloads every single day. The gatekeepers weren’t strong enough to keep out the low-appeal books, meaning readers were less likely to buy the books in front of them or to be satisfied with the titles they did purchase.
What was the solution? Well, Amazon wasn’t about to start curating these books themselves. Amazon is all about letting massive numbers of consumers reach their own decisions, proving in the most meaningful possible fashion which books have the highest commercial appeal. So some churn of their lists was probably a good thing, as it broke up the stagnation of long-term bestsellers (by the way, the iBookstore is currently struggling with this problem) and presented more voracious readers with fresh material. But this was too much, and it was too unregulated.
The answer was to raise the standards for which books would get prime placement. And in typical Amazon fashion, they would tie that standard to consumer behavior.
In March, they started testing new popularity lists; in May, there was a new algorithm. The winner no longer weighted free downloads equally with paid sales, but at something near a 10:1 scale. And instead of weighting the last 1-7 days of sales + downloads, it looked at the last 30.
So instead of needing 2000+ downloads to land high on the charts–a number most decent-looking books promoted by the top sites could cross; about 100 free books managed that number of downloads per day–their new formula required somewhere between 8000-20,000 downloads to really hit it big. The more niche or iffy books couldn’t hit those numbers anymore; fewer than twenty per day could climb those heights. With exceptions, the only books that could rake in that many downloads were the ones that would have guaranteed commercial appeal when plunked in front of readers. The gatekeepers–readers, making their download decisions one click at a time–were made stronger.
They crowdsourced commercial appeal. In the environment of the time, one or two or three thousand readers downloading a free book wasn’t a terribly accurate predictor of that book’s potential. But if you upped those numbers ten times over–to ten or twenty or thirty thousand reader downloads–you had a much more accurate barometer for which books would sell when they were awarded with extra visibility.
It was a net gain for readers, who had an easier time finding appealing books, but a net loss for writers, fewer of whom could pull in the number of downloads required to hit the jackpot.
Again, I’m presenting this without judgment. A book’s surface appeal, which prompts free downloads, doesn’t necessarily represent its deeper appeal, which prompts word of mouth and long-term sales (to say nothing of literary or artistic appeal). And Amazon’s current algos aren’t perfect. Certain factors–the readership demographics of the major blogs, crossover appeal of the larger genres, Amazon’s categories, etc.–means that certain subgenres (romance, thrillers, etc.) have an easier time of it than more niche subgenres (epic fantasy, Westerns?, etc.).
This is just my narrative of what happened. Amazon’s standards/algos weren’t high enough to deal with the emerging free book market; the rewards for making your book free were disproportionately high compared to their average commercial value.
So they raised their standards. And a lot of authors were left scrambling for a new solution.
~
The silver lining to these changes is that we as authors can take advantage of the raised standards to gauge the appeal of our own books. But since this post is already closing in on 1000 words long, I’m going to tackle that in a followup.