Sales of When We Were Mutants & Other Stories picked up a little last week–and I do mean “a little”; that span saw a grand total of three purchases–and I can explain why: again, word of mouth. Someone I know mentioned it to some of their friends, who surfed over, saw it listed at a negligible price, and ordered away.

Conclusions drawn (usual Small Sample Size Theatre caveats apply): word of mouth from trusted sources is a much, much more powerful force than random advertising. The (admittedly limited) self-promotion I made on Kindleboards.com and Amazon’s board resulted in zero sales. Someone telling their friends “Hey, this stuff is good, you should check it out” resulted in two.

Again, this dataset is so small it risks meaninglessness, but whatever evidence there is points to “word of mouth = $.” “HAI GUYS BUY MY BOOK = 🙁 “

Thoughts on Pricing

I dropped the price from $1.99 to $0.99 for the last week, but that appeared to make no difference. If the material’s worth anything at all, $2 for a couple hundred pages is a bargain. I could be biased by feeling like a fool when I was selling it at $1, but I have a hard time believing the jump from $1 to $2 is enough to scare off legions of penny-pinching ereaders.

While I’m on the subject, Amazon is doing some brilliant things here. Setting a low-end cap of $0.99 is just plain smart, heading off the inevitable race to the bottom that would have resulted without a lower limit. Without that, people would step all over themselves to sell their novels for a penny. Granted, hundreds (thousands?) of people are just giving their work away for free, but at least this way there’s some limit to the ways people can sell themselves short.

Next month, they’ll provide 70% royalties (instead of 35%) for anyone selling their books at $2.99 and up. More brilliance: while this doesn’t force anyone to up their prices, it creates a strong incentive for a soft cap of $2.99. Given these rates, authors who sell at $0.99 will have to sell six times books to match the profits of one sale at $2.99. I consider it unlikely that readers are six times as likely to buy a $0.99 book as a $2.99 book. (For that matter, let’s have some pride here, people. In restaurants, the most-bought bottle of wine is the second-cheapest bottle on the list. No one who offers a $10 blowjob has a full set of teeth. Treat your work like it’s worth the work you put into it.)

Ranting aside.. I can see pricing one work at $0 or $1 to provide a cheaper entrypoint into your other books. I may experiment with that myself by offering one story from WWWM for free when I up the price on the collection to $2.99.

(Immediate update: I just read indie authors will no longer be able to price books at $0–only publishing houses will be able to price at that rate. Or at any rate, it costs indies something to do so? Dunno the specifics. But I like this, if only because, as is probably clear, people giving their work away for free makes me grumpy.)

On the Market for Short Stories

I’ve been suspicious short stories and collections might not sell as well as novels. A recent thread on Amazon gave words to my fears. Why buy a collection of short stories when there are so many–and so many good ones!–available for free at scores of online magazines? I mean, almost every story I’ve sold is available at no cost wherever it was published.

As for individual short stories, as I said in that thread, I would pay $0.99 as fast as I can open my electronic wallet for a story by Neal Stephenson or Iain M. Banks. For a story from random unknown nobody, pbbt. No dice.

I do think, however, collections are viable. They can have the page bulk of novels, and if I were to read a short story at a magazine I really liked, surfed over to Amazon, and saw they had a low-priced collection, I’d be tempted. I think this is part of the phenomenon J.A. Konrath has pointed to that, even though he has much of his work available for free on his website, people go over to Amazon to pay money for it anyway. Several possible factors: a) people will pay a small sum to get a work in the format they prefer; b) they just overlook the free stuff, assuming a pro like Konrath must only have his work for sale through a professional retailer; c) they want to support an author they like.

Long-Term Predictions for Indie Authors

First off, the term “indie authors” makes me mad for some reason, but it works fine for indie bands and films, doesn’t it? Maybe I’ll get used to it, but right now it smacks of relabeling yourself something less truthful/awful than “dude or dudette who couldn’t sell to a real publisher.” You know, like how people say “HPV” instead of “genital warts.”

Objections of terminology aside, indie authors are currently in a golden age. It’s incredibly cheap and easy to get your work in front of a potentially vast audience that’s currently going mad for ebooks. People with little to no success in traditional publishing are raking in thousands of sales of self-published books.

I think that’s great! Diversity is healthy in any environment, including economic ones. But I wonder if this flourishing of strange, sometimes beautiful small creatures is about to face mass extinction.

E-readers are exploding. Somebody buys a Kindle or an iPad, the first they they want to do is stuff it full of apps and ebooks. Get their money’s worth. I do think we’re still on the exponential growth section of the curve, but eventually, be it next year or in 2525, most people who will ever get an ereader will have got it, and will no longer be buying books at a frantic “Give me MOAR!!!” pace.

Second, for the moment, big publishers fucking suck at getting their new releases and their backlists available at reasonable prices (and I do consider $6-15, depending on what format the physical copy’s currently in, to be reasonable). Nimble, fast-acting indie authors are doing well in part because the professional competition has only begun to lumber onto the scene.

That won’t last. Publishers will get their act together. Quite possibly, more midlist authors like Joe Konrath will begin offering their own professional titles at indie-author rates. There’s really nothing to stop bestsellers from doing this, either, so long as they take the precaution of informing their publishers of this via email rather than by phone, where they’d be deafened by shrieks of dismay.

Sooner or later, this professional competition will arrive. Likely, there will still be two main submarkets: the big pros with the big publishers at the $6-15 range, and the indies, abandoned midlisters, and go-their-own-way pros occupying the $1-5 market. There will still be room for success for authors who’ve never sold one word professionally. But I imagine once the e-equivalent of the danbrownosaurs and stepheniemeyergators stake out their territory, a vast amount of those agile little indie-mammals are going to get devoured wholesale as readers turn to authors they trust at prices comparable to what the unknowns can offer.

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Both Redstone Science Fiction and Lightspeed Magazine officially opened their doors today. As professionally paying markets–i.e., paying at least 5 cents/word for fiction–they join roughly a dozen other sci-fi venues willing to fork over that much cash for content.

One new pro market’s a pretty big deal. Two on the same day is downright awesome. Give them a look. I have–and have no doubts I’ll be flooding their slush piles with submissions in the immediate future.

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Available, as usual, here.

I really have very little else to say about this one. It was a summer action blockbuster that did nothing impressive yet had no glaring points of suckage, either. I’ve been calling it “barely good,” and I think that sums it up best.

My girlfriend later confessed to me she went with me because it had Jake Gyllenhaal. That’s fine. I got to watch Gemma Arterton.

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As Americans, it’s our cultural heritage to spend more money than we make. Your income may be a hard, fast number, but it’s much more of a suggestion than a limit. What I’m getting at here is unless you put yourself in debt, the massive institutions of legal usury aren’t going to be able to buy their underground city with the stoplights where the only color is gold and the streets are paved with the credit cards of starved debtors. We need that city. If Apophis blows us all to hell, it’ll be the only place we have left.

But say you’re a selfish un-team player who (unlike the world’s forward-thinking big businessmen) cares nothing for the long-term survival of humanity. Say you’re following some stupid career that makes you little to no money (actually, given that qualification, “stupid” is probably redundant). And in the most unlikely assumption of them all, say you intend to spend less than you earn.

Among the chief components of executing this America-destroying plan is to identify repeated expenses and decide if they’re necessary. If they’re not, your solution’s simple. Quit spending money on them, Monopoly Man With Your Dopey Little Monocle.

If they are necessary–and I’m using the term loosely here; I, for instance, like to own so many socks my closet looks like the corner of a cotton mill–see if you can’t minimize the expense. Shit adds up. If you buy a $3 mocha every day on your way to work, you’re dropping $60-70 a month on coffee.

Buy a $60 espresso machine. Get a thermos. Learn to make your own mochas. Reduce monthly coffee expenditures to $5 of beans and $5 of milk. Yay! You’ve still got delicious coffee and you can cut a few hours from your regular job to focus on writing/underwater basketweaving/Chewbacca sculptures etc.

But wait, there’s more. Ladies like a dynamic guy. (Men may like a dynamic partner, too, if only because a girlfriend with hobbies of her own gives us more time to work on our own ridiculous hobbies.) I think, subconsciously, women evaluate every man they meet by his capability to survive a zombie apocalypse. Looking all big and strong is the no-duh part of this, but having skill sets is an even bigger part. Knowing tae kwon do: an obvious plus. Cooking, too–the apocalypse is filled with bad meals. If you’re aware of the eldritch secrets of heat and salt, you’ll be worth your weight in shotgun shells. Even something unglamorous like knowing how to sew or change a tire is attractive.

Allow me to put this in terms we can all understand. In D&D, most of your character’s power comes from his skills. If you want to be high-leveled in real life, you need to develop skills of your own. And what is the art of concocting espresso-based drinks if not a modern form of potion brewing?

Learn to do stuff for yourself instead of buying those services from others. It’ll cut back on your day job and make you sexier. Besides, you think any of those banker fucks know how to brew their own espresso? You’re going to be in pretty high demand in the underground city.

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Why isn’t this book selling? First, let’s rule out a few variables.

1) The writing blows goats.

As mentioned, I’ve already sold most of these stories somewhere. You know how hard it is to sell a single story, anywhere? Even to a market that pays the princely sum of $10? It’s pretty fucking hard! Even those markets reject 90-99% of the stories they see. They get a lot of material and only buy the stuff they really like. That doesn’t mean what they buy is the awesomest thing since dinosaurs fighting with shotguns, but it does imply a baseline quality. Either the writing or the story or both were enough to hook an editor who reads scores of stories a month. I’m not gonna get all “Kneel before Zod” here, but I’d put the writing in When We Were Mutants & Other Stories up against the average self-pubbed Kindle title no worries.

2) The packaging (title, description, cover art, etc.) is the blowful part.

The price is $1.99. That’s right in line with this market. Still, I’m dropping it to $0.99 to see if that changes anything.

Whatever else you might think of the book, you gotta admit that’s a sweet title.

I’ve written several hundred movie reviews in the last three years. I know how to write a hook. The description may not sell ice to a wampa, but it’s fine.

The cover art’s more subjective–it’s definitely not your run-of-the-mill “photograph of a hot chick with some huge sans serif text pasted over it”–but I happen to think it’s pretty damn cool. It’s eye-catching. It’s nontraditional, and maybe that’s turning people off, but I feel like it’s a great representation of the work.

3) I’m not a very talented whore.

I haven’t done a ton of self-promotion. This is true. But the places I’ve promoted it have been the right places. Result: nothing. I should send it out to some review blogs and see what happens there. I’m getting the impression recommendations from trusted sources are a big factor in selling unknown works. That, uh, may not be news to anyone.

Here’s some variables that might make a difference.

1) It’s a short story collection.

Konrath, and nearly all the self-pubbed authors I’ve seen, sell novels. Maybe people hate reading short stories. Maybe short stories threw sand in their faces as children. Maybe, for some reason, customers aren’t interested in buying them when there’s all these actual novels available just a click away. I could address that by listing a previous novel of mine and seeing how that does, but I’m kind of busy with this detailed dissection of a niche subject right now.

2) I’ve only got the one work available.

Konrath writes about success coming from “shelf space,” or having a number of different titles for readers to find, get engaged by, and scoop up the rest of your work. I think this is a really strong point, actually. Single-title self-pubbers may find it much more difficult than people with 3+ books online.

3) My fiction career doesn’t have much of a platform.

I suspect this might be the biggest fly in the ointment of selling your work to strangers. Thing is, if you’ve already got a decent chunk of readers, they’re not really strangers anymore. They’ll pick up your book on your recommendation. Suckers. These suckers, in turn, will recommend it to their friends and communities. Hooray! Sales!

I’ve actually got the opportunity to increase my platform here by a ways, which I intend to do just as soon as I’ve beaten The Legend of Zelda: The Twilight Princess again. Hyrule’s in danger, people.

Conclusions, Week One

Caveat: these are preliminary conclusions based on an initial week of data. That’s very little info, really. At this point, Shit Is Subject To Change.

I’m honestly not disappointed in these results. My expectations were low–people can’t shut up about ebooks these days, and I wanted to see for myself what it’s like to actually try to sell one.

However, it seems to me that ebooks do not, despite all buzz to the contrary, sell themselves. To achieve sales, you need either a preexisting readership or to do a lot of self-promotion. Again, this really isn’t news, but I mean you need that just to sell a copy. So far I could sell more books through bagpiping in the subway than by listing them on Kindle.

My initial suspicion is the amount of time you need to spend self-promoting is not going to be worth it. For authors seeking a career, that time is, in almost all cases, better spent writing, or at least pitching your writing to agents and editors. Because until you reach critical mass, you will have to keep pumping your own work All. The. Time. Self-promotion is a hydratic beast with an empty belly. It demands constant nourishment or it will eat you instead.

Well, possibly not, at least about the eating you part. Again, my opinions could change if the data does. But for now–and Konrath says this himself, to his credit, though possibly he should say it more often–the self-epubbing route is not a game-changer for those of us who aren’t already established. In fact, so far it resembles the bulk of my fiction career: a bushel of effort for a withered cherry of financial gain.

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Well, maybe not. But you gotta have a catchy title to draw them in.

Joe Konrath, who writes novels under the name J.A. Konrath, is the leading light of self-publishing electronically. His ebooks are on pace to make him more than $100,000 this year. On Kindle alone. He’s done so well Amazon is publishing his next work. He blogs with great transparency about his sales and methods. Lest there be any confusion about what’s to follow, let the record state I think he’s a cool guy, and that it’s wildly awesome he’s been able to seize such a successful independent career.

I, like dozens, possibly thousands of others, was inspired to follow his lead. Last week, I uploaded a collection of my short stories to the Kindle store. I see it as a very low-risk, high-reward venture: I’ve already sold six of the eight stories here. The seventh was previously self-published as part of a charity event. The eight and titular story’s a strong one, but none of the major markets I submitted it to picked it up.

I probably could have sold that story to a smaller market, so my lost opportunity cost was $10-50. It took a few hours to format the text properly, and several hours more to cajole my sexy talented girlfriend into finishing the cover art. That’s it. I’m still seeking the normal route to publication for my sci-fi novel, The Roar of the Spheres.

You know how many copies of WWWM&OS I’ve sold so far to people I don’t know personally? Zero. None. As our friends south of the border would say, absolutamente nothing!!!

Yet I didn’t just post it and move on, like a fire-and-forget missile made out of words about wizards. I introduced When We Were Mutants & Other Stories on kindleboards.com and did some light interaction. I introduced it in the proper section of the Amazon boards. I mentioned it here, and linked to it from the sidebar. Results: nothing.

Not quite the outcome I was expecting after reading up on Konrath’s blog.

Let’s be clear–I wasn’t expecting to be able to fund a wardrobe of gold top hats and sable-fur tighty-grayies off this, either. I would have been happy with $10 a month. Seriously. I hoped to repeat this with other collections down the road and build a small but steady income stream to supplement the other ways I make money, e.g. dancing on the sidewalk for nickels.

One week is not enough data to draw any strong conclusions over. It’s just another production of Small Sample Size Theatre. But so far, my experiment is showing me it’s not as easy as the self-epublishing all-stars make it out to be. I’ll plunge into analysis in my next post.

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Actually, this one’s a reprint, so maybe it should be Sale #10.1? Whatever the case, Cossmass Infinities has picked up 10% for publication. Should publish in October.

This marks many firsts for me: the first time I’ve been paid in pounds (instantly converted to USD by PayPal–the modern age is certainly convenient, but in some ways it’s less fun); the first time I’ve sold a reprint (this is a highly technical industry term for “story you’ve already sold elsewhere”); and the first time I’ll have a piece appear in audio or podcast form (at least, for public consumption).

Actually, I’m not completely certain this counts as a reprint, given that it’s in a different format from the original form of publication. In any event, this is an important part of being a professional: selling the same shit repeatedly to different people. I’ve wondered how much money there really is in short fiction, but this is something I didn’t take into account. I heard Ellen Datlow and others speak about this on a panel on reprints at RadCon, but Dead Wesley Smith explains it best in his post on the writer’s Magic Bakery.

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Available for Kindle owners, and those with Kindle-running apps, here. The complete product description etc. hasn’t shown up yet, but it’s a collection of eight of my sci-fi and fantasy stories. In terms of bulk, they’re 50,000 words total, or about 150 print pages.

This is an experiment, really. Among all those other titles, When We Were Mutants & Other Stories might not sell at all, and if it does, it likely won’t comprise a significant income stream. But most of these stories are ones I’ve already sold, and thus dodge some of the normal self-publishing bullets: they’ve already been vetted and proofread. Someone already paid something for them; why not bundle them together, along with a couple new pieces, and see what happens?

If “what happens” is “it makes me some money,” I may put up a second collection, or even the epic fantasy novel twiddling its thumbs on my hard drive. I’m still pursuing the traditional publishing route–that has always and continues to be my career goal, lots of books with logos like Tor and Baen and Ace on the spine; right now I’m seeking representation for The Roar of the Spheres, and while I wait to see what happens with that, I’m woolgathering for my next project–but nobody really knows what’s going to happen with epublishing just yet. I thought I’d find out for myself.

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Just heard today Big Pulp is picking up my story “Death Among the Grasseaters.” As a story about malevolent deer, I almost didn’t write it–my instinct was to dismiss the idea as too silly–but then I thought it could work if I played it straight, and that the challenge of writing a spooky story about Bambis could be a cool challenge.

Slated for publication in November. Meanwhile, my stuff in The Aether Age: Helios sounds like it’ll come out in August. Ain’t gonna be rich any time soon, but it’s emotionally rewarding to have more publications coming down the pipeline, and I’m sure those emotional dollars will be redeemable for federal currency any day now.

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My car’s a piece of crap, but it starts up whenever I turn the key. Most times I don’t even need to yell at it. I’ve got an old TV, a DVD player, a Wii, and this laptop. I have a nice coat I bought a couple years ago and a small collection of signed books. Other than that, the most expensive thing I own is probably my fishtank and its assorted apparati–and it’s a freshwater ten gallon.

I think I can count on one hand the number of DVDs and CDs I’ve bought this year. I’ve got a lot of books and a small DVD library, but both these collections accumulate slowly.

I don’t not buy things for some moral or spiritual reason; if I look like a monk, it’s coincidence, not purity. I think monks go to church sometimes. They’re also not supposed to be this fond of vodka.

I’m lucky in that I seem to lack the consumer gene–it just doesn’t occur to me to buy things, although that may be a byproduct of never having money–but my amaterialism is also a product of valuing my writing career more highly than I value.. whatever it is people buy. New cars? Jeans so stiff you need pliers to get into them? TVs so huge they could double as a supporting wall? (Okay, now that one I do want.) Every hour I spend at work piling up fat stacks is one less hour I have to devote to honing my skillz. One hour further away from living as a professional in the field I want to work in.

That’s the real reason I don’t buy stuff. Stuff isn’t worth it, and neither’s what I have to do to make the money I’d need to buy it. Trust me, when I have money, I’ll buy a flatscreen TV so huge I’ll have to knock down a wall to make room for the team of elephants it’ll take to deliver it. But when I buy that TV, it’ll be with money I made doing what I’ve always wanted to do.

In the meantime, I don’t need it. When you know why you don’t need it, it’s no trouble to forego.

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I am a Science Fiction and Fantasy author, based in LA. Read More.

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