Yes. It’s for sale. Well, the paperback is available. The Kindle/iPad in the next few days.
(And check out Chapter 1.)
When you go through all of this, you reach the point where your account person handling the final set up stuff says, “So, price. What are we thinkin’?”
(One preface: the way I have things set up, there was a price floor for my book, around seven bucks. I couldn’t go lower than that, so our thinking was at least somewhat scientific.)
But still, that moment. One would think that it must be like the stage in the interview process where salary comes up, only multiplied.
But it’s not. Riding the edge of ten bucks, that seems cool. First time, self publishing, winging this entire process from moment one, yeah. Invested in an editor along the way so everything is at least somewhat coherent. That pushes it out of the eight dollar range.
$9.95. I’m good with that.
Fearkiller is worth a lunch, with a drink and a cookie. Reaching this perspective took this whole book-writing thing to a whole new level.
Then, $9.95 got even more $9.95.
I ran into someone in my business, not someone I know very well. We got to talking, I mentioned the book. He got in to “Time To Critique This Venture of Yours” mode or whatever. He said that I guess I hadn’t heard, but someone in the biz is also self-publishing. Only they’re in an agency, a well-known one, in management, more experience in the biz than me. The “more experience in the biz” thing struck me.
He just wanted me to know. No. He wanted me to know… (I discuss the use of ellipses during the first decade of the Millennium in my book.)
Damn right I wanted to know. I looked the guy’s book up. $14.26.
I thought, “no way I’d pay $14.26 for Fearkiller.” Highway robbery, hello?
This Chris Maley. Self-published. First timer. The guy was ripped out of his skull writing the first draft, while going broke, for chrissake. (Alcohol and drugs are a part of this story.)
$14.26 for Fearkiller. Let me go huff a couple of gallons of paint first, then I’ll pay that kind of money.
That’s like lunch, a drink, a cookie, then a deluxe latte’ later on in the afternoon.
I’d rather be attacked by a horde of Y2K-Infected Barbarian Sex Cannibals than pay all that money.