Well it’s been three weeks since I launched book number 3.
Well, when I say launch… It depends who you’re talking to. Normal people think of a book launch as free drinks at a bookstore, and an author caught in the spotlight. Indies (what self published authors like me call ourselves) think of a launch as finally getting the thing finished and on sale. Pressing the go button on Kindle, Kobo, Nook, iBooks, Google Play, and all the other online retailers with stupid names. And even stupider publishing interfaces. And then there are the print-on-demand paperbacks through Ingram Spark. Another daft name, another infuriating website.
Then, Ping! There it is, all shiny and full of expectation, floating in the void of the interwebs: the culmination of two years of anxiety and exhilaration.
From worrying about if there was actually a story there, and will anyone care, suddenly you go, “Look at that, I made it. And it looks all right, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? Snazzy cover, hey? Hello?”
And then it’s pretty much all graphs and tables. Sales trickles versus torrents of advertising expenses.
And questions: Where is everybody? Where are all the reviews? Come on, it’s been three days; plenty of time, surely. What does CTR mean again? ROI? Read through? And what time is it in America? Why do they always have to be a day behind?
Help.
Then some reviews appear. Two. Three. How many ARCs did I send out?
A couple of five-stars, though.
Woohoo.
Better than a poke in the eye.
What next? Should have a party. After all it’s been two years, should have a bunch of parties. I mean launches.
Anyone looking for Christmas-present ideas?
