By Judith Yates Borger
Yeah, but you can't autograph a Kindle is the response I often hear after I've listed all the reasons why an ebook is a perfectly fine way -- the best, in my humble opinion -- to read crime fiction, or any other, for that matter.
The honest truth, though, is well, yes, and no. There are at least a couple of fledgeling ways to offer an autograph. They just aren't refined enough yet. Autography is one, Kindlegraph is the other. I've also run across a couple others, but it doest appear they've been used much yet. If you've had any experience with these, please let me and other readers of Crime Fiction Collective know about it by posting a comment.
I first learned about Autography from a link in the New York Times last April. I check on the website and placed a call to the phone number listed more than two weeks ago. I said I was researching Authography for a blog. As of this evening, no one has called me back, so I'm wondering if Autography is operational yet. If you have any experience with Authography please let us know.
The second, Kindlegraph, is owned by ... wait for it ... Amazon.com. Like everything else Amazon, Kindlegraph is fairly straightforward for authors, with one exception. It must be accessed through a Twitter account. I don't understand why, but that's how I got to it.
Then I followed the simple instructions. Instantly, almost, I was listed among the new authors. Then at about 5 p.m. central time today, November 29, 2011, I asked myself for a personalized inscription and autograph. Again, instantly Kindlegraph confirmed that I had fulfilled my own request and showed a PDF to prove it. Every hour since I have checked the beginning of both books looking for my groovy inscription and autograph on Where's Billie? and Whose Hand? in my Kindle. So far, I see nothing.
According to information released last spring, Barnes & Noble upgraded it software in a fashion that uses Autography, but I haven't seen any concrete example of that. Again, if you know anything about that, let us know.
And then there's Bookiejar beta, a 2011 ebook publishing company. According to the company's release from September, authors can set up generic or dedicated inscription and autographs for their ebooks. "A reader is now able to have his/her copy of an ebook personally signed by the writer at a book signing event. This has never been possible before, "says the company's president, an ex-Microsoft guy. Has anyone heard of anyone doing this?
This experiment begs the question: Who pays for eBook autographs? There are really only three options, the reader, the writer or the distributor. I can see someone advertising "Get your own personalized eBook for only 10 percent more."
Can authors autograph their books? I haven't seen it work yet, but I sure would like to. No one is more important than our readers. I suspect readers would react warmly to a personalized dedication that shows they are always top of the mind for us.
If you know more about this topic, please comment so we can all share in the knowledge.
Showing posts with label Whose Hand?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Whose Hand?. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
I'd Love to Visit Your Book Club
By Judith Yates Borger, who's offering free ebook to any book club that sets up a Skype or FaceTime visit.
A writer friend refuses to visit book clubs because, she says, they tend to drink too much wine and grill her about why her character has premarital sex. Well, actually, it only happened once but it put her off book clubs forever.
I, on the other hand, love to visit with book clubs. In my little intro I tell them that I have very thick skin after working on newspapers where a good day was when only two people called me up swearing. I invite their criticism as well as their praise. They have never failed to heap on both, and I have learned from each comment. In fact, I made some changes in my second book, Whose Hand? because of comments about my first book, Where's Billie?
I've also learned there are a few key questions book club members ask every time:
Q: What is your writing routine?
A: I'm highly productive between 10 and 10:15 in the morning. The rest is slogging through mud.
Q: Was your car really blown up as portrayed in Where's Billie?
A: Yes, I wouldn't let that research go to waste.
Q: Are any members of your family characters in the book?
A: Note to my children: NO.
Q: Are any of your characters real people?
A: Lots of characters are an amalgamation of people I know or have met.
Q: How long did it take you to write the book(s)?
A: Start to publishing for Where's Billie? took three agents and seven years. For Whose Hand? it was about two years. I'm getting speedier.
Q: Do you get paid more with ebooks or paper books?
A: This is a classic Minnesotan question. What they really want to know is am I getting rich but they're too nice to ask directly. The answer is I get 70 percent royalty on ebooks, because I self publish them. I get five percent on paper books — about 80 cents for a $16.95 traditionally published book. A reasonable follow up question here would be: Why in God's name do you work with a traditional publisher? But no one ever asks it.
Q: What is the husband in Where's Billie? doing? Fooling around? Out on assignment? Going through chemo? Then they often debate that point for up to 45 minutes.
A: Buy Whose Hand? and find out.
Three days ago I was asked: What will you be in five years?
A: Eligible for Medicare.
All of this is great, but my problem is I can't drive/fly/bus/take Amtrak many miles to visit book clubs. However, I'd really like to chat with readers from outside the Twin Cities. So ....
I'm offering free ebooks of either Where's Billie? or Whose Hand?—your choice—to any book club willing to set up a time for me to visit via Skype or FaceTime. Let's face it folks, the technology is there to reach out and touch someone face-to-face. Let's use it.
Email me at Judy@JudithYatesBorger.com to set up a date/time. I promise I'll be there. Go to my website, www.JudithYatesBorger.com, for descriptions of both books.
A writer friend refuses to visit book clubs because, she says, they tend to drink too much wine and grill her about why her character has premarital sex. Well, actually, it only happened once but it put her off book clubs forever.
I, on the other hand, love to visit with book clubs. In my little intro I tell them that I have very thick skin after working on newspapers where a good day was when only two people called me up swearing. I invite their criticism as well as their praise. They have never failed to heap on both, and I have learned from each comment. In fact, I made some changes in my second book, Whose Hand? because of comments about my first book, Where's Billie?
I've also learned there are a few key questions book club members ask every time:
Q: What is your writing routine?
A: I'm highly productive between 10 and 10:15 in the morning. The rest is slogging through mud.
Q: Was your car really blown up as portrayed in Where's Billie?
A: Yes, I wouldn't let that research go to waste.
Q: Are any members of your family characters in the book?
A: Note to my children: NO.
Q: Are any of your characters real people?
A: Lots of characters are an amalgamation of people I know or have met.
Q: How long did it take you to write the book(s)?
A: Start to publishing for Where's Billie? took three agents and seven years. For Whose Hand? it was about two years. I'm getting speedier.
Q: Do you get paid more with ebooks or paper books?
A: This is a classic Minnesotan question. What they really want to know is am I getting rich but they're too nice to ask directly. The answer is I get 70 percent royalty on ebooks, because I self publish them. I get five percent on paper books — about 80 cents for a $16.95 traditionally published book. A reasonable follow up question here would be: Why in God's name do you work with a traditional publisher? But no one ever asks it.
Q: What is the husband in Where's Billie? doing? Fooling around? Out on assignment? Going through chemo? Then they often debate that point for up to 45 minutes.
A: Buy Whose Hand? and find out.
Three days ago I was asked: What will you be in five years?
A: Eligible for Medicare.
All of this is great, but my problem is I can't drive/fly/bus/take Amtrak many miles to visit book clubs. However, I'd really like to chat with readers from outside the Twin Cities. So ....
I'm offering free ebooks of either Where's Billie? or Whose Hand?—your choice—to any book club willing to set up a time for me to visit via Skype or FaceTime. Let's face it folks, the technology is there to reach out and touch someone face-to-face. Let's use it.
Email me at Judy@JudithYatesBorger.com to set up a date/time. I promise I'll be there. Go to my website, www.JudithYatesBorger.com, for descriptions of both books.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
After My Car Was Firebombed While I Covered a Riot...
by JudithYates Borger
It was a hot August night in 2002 when I was a reporter for the St. Paul Pioneer Press dispatched to Minneapolis because it looked like a riot was erupting. Police had tried to issue a warrant on a drug house when someone unleashed a pit bull on the officers. They shot at the dog, the bullet ricocheted off the sidewalk and hit a youngster in the arm. Word went out in the neighborhood that cops had shot a kid.
Ten months later I resigned the paper, not because my car was firebombed, but because it was clear management did not have my back.
Like the fiction I write these days, this story has a satisfying conclusion. My protagonist is … wait for it … a newspaper reporter whose car is firebombed. Superb detail in that passage, if I do say so myself. She has lots of adventures while juggling career, family and her passions for both. I love making this stuff up.
Where’s Billie? and Whose Hand?, both Skeeter Hughes Mysteries, are doing very well in trade paperback and ebooks, available at all bookstores, Kindle and Nook. I’m working on the third mystery right now, title to be determined.
It was a hot August night in 2002 when I was a reporter for the St. Paul Pioneer Press dispatched to Minneapolis because it looked like a riot was erupting. Police had tried to issue a warrant on a drug house when someone unleashed a pit bull on the officers. They shot at the dog, the bullet ricocheted off the sidewalk and hit a youngster in the arm. Word went out in the neighborhood that cops had shot a kid.
I normally covered the Minneapolis mayor's office and city council. I'd never worked a police beat in my life and didn't have a clue how to handle a simple burglary, let alone an explosive situation. Nonetheless, the paper wanted all west-of-the-Mississippi reporters on the scene. I got lost on the way, and by the time I arrived, the cops had pulled out, leaving a TV van with a damaged antenna dangling like a broken arm, some torn down yellow police tape and a lot of broken glass. People stood around in groups talking in low murmurs.
I pulled my red Honda Civic del Sol, a gem of a two-seater convertible, into the parking of a convenience store, which was lit up like a surgical suite. Wearing shorts, a T-shirt and my 15-year-old Birkenstock sandals, I got out of my car, locking my purse in the trunk. Several people standing around eyed me, the only white person in sight, with curiosity. I looked like a lost soccer mom, except for my reporter's notebook, pen and cell phone.
I seldom worked nights and my first thought was to wonder what time was deadline. Clearly I wasn't going to have time to write a story, so I called the newsroom and started to dictate what I saw. I was in reporter mode and it didn't occur to me to be frightened.
I saw someone run away from a car and moments later a fire kindled inside. The crowd saw it too, and began to gather around while the fire grew. Soon the car was fully engulfed and I was afraid the branches of a huge maple tree the tree would catch fire, and then the house behind it. People watched like it was the Fourth of July as the car exploded. Fortunately, the fire burned out without touching the tree.
As I stood in the parking lot the manager of the convenience store walked up to me and asked, "Who are you?" Then he told me he had dragged a man who had been beaten into the store. Mohamed Somebody, the manager, had called 911 a couple of times to say the man needed medical attention, but no one was coming.
We were standing under the bright lights of the parking lot when we heard gunshots. Bang, bang, bang. It sounded like they were feet away. That’s when I realized I was in danger. I looked at Mohamed, he looked at me, and we both hustled into the store, careful to stand away from the windows. I envisioned spending the night surrounded by Blue Bunny Ice Cream.
Inside the store, I met , a StarTribune reporter, a competitor who had taken a brick in the back of his head. He was incoherent, asking me over and over again, "Who are you?" He asked where he was, and how he had gotten there. I answered his questions and then he'd start them all over again.
After what seemed like a very long time, three or four police cars pulled up in front of the store, blue and red lights flashing. Officers with shotguns and a big dog poured out like the cavalry coming to the rescue. One came to the door of convenience store, talked to the manager, looked at incoherent reporter, then asked me, "Who are you?" I was beginning to get used to the question.
She escorted the two of us to the back seat of the patrol car and shut the door. I looked out the window and saw my car parked next to the convenience store. I'd already seen one car firebombed that night and knew mine was next. When I knocked on the window to get the officer's attention — you can't get out of the back seat of a patrol car — she told me to forget about my car for the night.
"Get it in the morning," she said. I'll just bet, I thought.
The next morning, I got another reporter to drive me to the lot outside the convenience store to pick up my car. When I got there, the bricks on the side of the store were scorched, and a man with one tooth was outside with a broom and dustpan. I learned later that the fire department had already hauled away the husk of my car, including the charred remains of my purse, which had held $200 cash, a spare cell phone and all my credit cards.
"That was my car," I said to the man who was sweeping up the last bits of metal.
He reached into the pile, pulled out the "H" hood ornament, wiped it off on his pants and offered it to me.
"I'm sorry," he said.
KnightRidder, which then owned the Pioneer Press, refused to replace my car, saying it paid reporters 36.5 cents a mile to cover gas and my insurance. Besides, I was told, if it paid for my car it would have to pay for every car that got firebombed. I wonder where else that happens. Miami?
The Pioneer Press paid for my deductible on my car and homeowners insurance – for the cash, cell phone and other stuff toasted in my purse – and an airline ticket to Chicago, where I bought another cute little convertible identical to the one that was torched. Because the cause on the claim on my homeowners’ insurance was fire, I got a letter from our company telling me to be sure to check my home’s furnace.
I pulled my red Honda Civic del Sol, a gem of a two-seater convertible, into the parking of a convenience store, which was lit up like a surgical suite. Wearing shorts, a T-shirt and my 15-year-old Birkenstock sandals, I got out of my car, locking my purse in the trunk. Several people standing around eyed me, the only white person in sight, with curiosity. I looked like a lost soccer mom, except for my reporter's notebook, pen and cell phone.
I seldom worked nights and my first thought was to wonder what time was deadline. Clearly I wasn't going to have time to write a story, so I called the newsroom and started to dictate what I saw. I was in reporter mode and it didn't occur to me to be frightened.
I saw someone run away from a car and moments later a fire kindled inside. The crowd saw it too, and began to gather around while the fire grew. Soon the car was fully engulfed and I was afraid the branches of a huge maple tree the tree would catch fire, and then the house behind it. People watched like it was the Fourth of July as the car exploded. Fortunately, the fire burned out without touching the tree.
As I stood in the parking lot the manager of the convenience store walked up to me and asked, "Who are you?" Then he told me he had dragged a man who had been beaten into the store. Mohamed Somebody, the manager, had called 911 a couple of times to say the man needed medical attention, but no one was coming.
We were standing under the bright lights of the parking lot when we heard gunshots. Bang, bang, bang. It sounded like they were feet away. That’s when I realized I was in danger. I looked at Mohamed, he looked at me, and we both hustled into the store, careful to stand away from the windows. I envisioned spending the night surrounded by Blue Bunny Ice Cream.
Inside the store, I met , a StarTribune reporter, a competitor who had taken a brick in the back of his head. He was incoherent, asking me over and over again, "Who are you?" He asked where he was, and how he had gotten there. I answered his questions and then he'd start them all over again.
After what seemed like a very long time, three or four police cars pulled up in front of the store, blue and red lights flashing. Officers with shotguns and a big dog poured out like the cavalry coming to the rescue. One came to the door of convenience store, talked to the manager, looked at incoherent reporter, then asked me, "Who are you?" I was beginning to get used to the question.
She escorted the two of us to the back seat of the patrol car and shut the door. I looked out the window and saw my car parked next to the convenience store. I'd already seen one car firebombed that night and knew mine was next. When I knocked on the window to get the officer's attention — you can't get out of the back seat of a patrol car — she told me to forget about my car for the night.
"Get it in the morning," she said. I'll just bet, I thought.
The next morning, I got another reporter to drive me to the lot outside the convenience store to pick up my car. When I got there, the bricks on the side of the store were scorched, and a man with one tooth was outside with a broom and dustpan. I learned later that the fire department had already hauled away the husk of my car, including the charred remains of my purse, which had held $200 cash, a spare cell phone and all my credit cards.
"That was my car," I said to the man who was sweeping up the last bits of metal.
He reached into the pile, pulled out the "H" hood ornament, wiped it off on his pants and offered it to me.
"I'm sorry," he said.
KnightRidder, which then owned the Pioneer Press, refused to replace my car, saying it paid reporters 36.5 cents a mile to cover gas and my insurance. Besides, I was told, if it paid for my car it would have to pay for every car that got firebombed. I wonder where else that happens. Miami?
The Pioneer Press paid for my deductible on my car and homeowners insurance – for the cash, cell phone and other stuff toasted in my purse – and an airline ticket to Chicago, where I bought another cute little convertible identical to the one that was torched. Because the cause on the claim on my homeowners’ insurance was fire, I got a letter from our company telling me to be sure to check my home’s furnace.
Ten months later I resigned the paper, not because my car was firebombed, but because it was clear management did not have my back.
Like the fiction I write these days, this story has a satisfying conclusion. My protagonist is … wait for it … a newspaper reporter whose car is firebombed. Superb detail in that passage, if I do say so myself. She has lots of adventures while juggling career, family and her passions for both. I love making this stuff up.
Where’s Billie? and Whose Hand?, both Skeeter Hughes Mysteries, are doing very well in trade paperback and ebooks, available at all bookstores, Kindle and Nook. I’m working on the third mystery right now, title to be determined.
I’m deliriously happy and feeling safe in my work. Life is good.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Email, Blogs, Skype and Face-Time: We authors must talk among ourselves.
By Judith Yates Borger
I had my two best e-selling months ever in July and August. I suspect that was because there was a lot of non-epublicity, mostly TV and newspaper, about the launch of my second book in paper, Whose Hand? A Skeeter Hughes Mystery. In another post I'll talk about how I guess -- no one knows for sure -- that paper publicity can work for ebooks.
But for now let's discuss the Kriswrites blogger, who says paper authors who have been fairly successful in the last five to ten years did not do well at all in August. Kris writes a lengthy piece to explain that some authors are thinking hard about ending their writing careers because of the terrible state of paper publishing. Here's an excerpt:
"The editor must do her publisher’s bidding or lose her job. And eventually that wears the editor down. Either she doesn’t care any more or she gets angry at the writers (and their agents) who are the only people she can safely get angry at and still have a job.
But the editor can talk to her colleagues and realize that they’re going through the same tough times. The agents see this happening to client after client and know it has nothing to do with the agenting, so it must be the writers themselves.
But the writers—oh, the writers—they work alone. And often they have no one to talk to. Many writers don’t tell their writing colleagues because these writers don’t want to be perceived as failures. When the writers tell their fans that the next book in a series won’t appear, the fans blame the writer."
It's a fascinating piece and I recommend it. Kris makes two key points: Writers need to talk to each other, honestly, even if they work alone in coffee shops, the library or at home. Being alone doesn't have to be ALONE. There are emails, blogs even Skype and face-time. Writers just have to take advantage of the technology.
But not just in communicating among themselves. Epublishing, Kris points out, may be wrecking paper sales, but boy is it good for authors who embrace it.
Like I said, I had a great July and August.
I had my two best e-selling months ever in July and August. I suspect that was because there was a lot of non-epublicity, mostly TV and newspaper, about the launch of my second book in paper, Whose Hand? A Skeeter Hughes Mystery. In another post I'll talk about how I guess -- no one knows for sure -- that paper publicity can work for ebooks.
But for now let's discuss the Kriswrites blogger, who says paper authors who have been fairly successful in the last five to ten years did not do well at all in August. Kris writes a lengthy piece to explain that some authors are thinking hard about ending their writing careers because of the terrible state of paper publishing. Here's an excerpt:
"The editor must do her publisher’s bidding or lose her job. And eventually that wears the editor down. Either she doesn’t care any more or she gets angry at the writers (and their agents) who are the only people she can safely get angry at and still have a job.
But the editor can talk to her colleagues and realize that they’re going through the same tough times. The agents see this happening to client after client and know it has nothing to do with the agenting, so it must be the writers themselves.
But the writers—oh, the writers—they work alone. And often they have no one to talk to. Many writers don’t tell their writing colleagues because these writers don’t want to be perceived as failures. When the writers tell their fans that the next book in a series won’t appear, the fans blame the writer."
It's a fascinating piece and I recommend it. Kris makes two key points: Writers need to talk to each other, honestly, even if they work alone in coffee shops, the library or at home. Being alone doesn't have to be ALONE. There are emails, blogs even Skype and face-time. Writers just have to take advantage of the technology.
But not just in communicating among themselves. Epublishing, Kris points out, may be wrecking paper sales, but boy is it good for authors who embrace it.
Like I said, I had a great July and August.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
What I learned about print reviews
By Judith Yates Borger, who never really lost faith in the power of newspapers
Because my emphasis is on epublishing, I hadn't paid a lot of attention to print reviews. That changed this week when my local newspaper, the StarTribune ran a Sunday review of my next book, Whose Hand? A Skeeter Hughes Mystery.
Because my emphasis is on epublishing, I hadn't paid a lot of attention to print reviews. That changed this week when my local newspaper, the StarTribune ran a Sunday review of my next book, Whose Hand? A Skeeter Hughes Mystery.
The reviewer, Steve Weinberg, a Columbus, Ohio journalist, said that Whose Hand? is "filled with places and events recognizable to Twin Cities residents." He added that it's written by "a skilled stylist, and the plot unfolds without flaws of illogic. Far
too many mysteries are bedeviled by illogical plot developments." Weinberg, who collects books about journalists, paired his review of Whose Hand? with a review of Killing Kate, by Julie Kramer, whose protagonist is also a reporter. It's unusual, he said, to have two books about two different female journalists released at the same time in the same city. He hailed both books as "first rate."
Whose Hand? is only available right now through Amazon Kindle and Barnes
and Noble nook. It's in pre-order and will be published in paper in
mid-August. But apparently the review moved people who own ereaders to act. By Sunday late afternoon, Whose Hand?'s ranking on Amazon had zoomed up 175,000. My first book, Where's Billie? had gone up 200,000 ranks. Both books were among the top 9,000 best sellers among Kindle's 750,000 ebooks.
What's significant here is not so much the ranking but the huge swing in ranking caused by just one review. In a newspaper, no less.
By contrast, Publishers Weekly
called Whose Hand? a
"diverting regional mystery with appeal to readers beyond the Twin
Cities." I could not see any significant change in my Kindle sales after the Publisher's Weekly review.
I think there are two lessons here. It doesn't take a lot of sales to move an ebook way up the sales list. But more important, we have to pay attention to good, old newspaper coverage. It matters.
Have you had a similar experience? Tell us about it.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
We didn't have a contract
For months I had been telling my paper publisher for my second mystery, Whose Hand? A Skeeter Hughes Mystery, that we did not have a contract. He replied repeatedly that we would work under the same terms we had used for my first mystery, Where's Billie?, that he had published. I pushed on.
After I had written, revised, revised and revised, I hired an editor to work on Whose Hand? I called my publisher and left messages that I was working on the book, but WE DIDN'T HAVE A CONTRACT. He did not return my calls.
Last January, after I was happy with Whose Hand? I put it on Kindle and Nook. Sales were pretty good, and boosted interest in the first book as well. My publisher decided to delay release of Whose Hand? from spring to fall 2011. Given that WE DIDN'T HAVE A CONTRACT, and it was doing ok in epub, I went along, even though that meant the second book would be released two years after the first, which is too long.
Whose Hand? is set to release in August. Last week I told my publisher that WE DIDN'T HAVE A CONTRACT. "That's not good," he said.
He invited me to his office, and mentioned nonchalantly as the contract printed out, that it had changed a bit. "I'm going to be doing the Kindle and Nook publishing now," he said.
"No," I said, fully prepared to walk out of his office without a contract for paper.
Our first contract specifically said that I retained electronic rights to the work. I wasn't about to let go of those rights for the second book.
"What percentage would you give me?" I asked, curious only to hear what he'd say. "I get 70 percent from Kindle and 70 percent from Nook."
He was dumbfounded. He had planned to send the file of my work to another vendor, who would put it up on Kindle and Nook, then pay him 50 cents for each copy sold. I get $2.10 per book now, I told him. Shock and awe.
"How do you get it in the Kindle?" he asked.
"I read the directions," I replied.
"Maybe I should have you put all my other books on Kindle," he said.
In the end, we signed a contract identical to my first with him, including a sentence that says I retain all electronic rights.
My paper publisher's family is now in it's third generation in the business. He's a savvy man, in the print world. But like many publishers he's caught in a very steep learning curve of the rapidly changing world.
So what's the lesson in this tale? We're all learning. But we indie authors have to stay with every bend in the road, or we're going to get run over. And never, never, never sell your electronic rights for less than a bizzilion dollars.
Have you had an experience like this?
After I had written, revised, revised and revised, I hired an editor to work on Whose Hand? I called my publisher and left messages that I was working on the book, but WE DIDN'T HAVE A CONTRACT. He did not return my calls.
Last January, after I was happy with Whose Hand? I put it on Kindle and Nook. Sales were pretty good, and boosted interest in the first book as well. My publisher decided to delay release of Whose Hand? from spring to fall 2011. Given that WE DIDN'T HAVE A CONTRACT, and it was doing ok in epub, I went along, even though that meant the second book would be released two years after the first, which is too long.
Whose Hand? is set to release in August. Last week I told my publisher that WE DIDN'T HAVE A CONTRACT. "That's not good," he said.
He invited me to his office, and mentioned nonchalantly as the contract printed out, that it had changed a bit. "I'm going to be doing the Kindle and Nook publishing now," he said.
"No," I said, fully prepared to walk out of his office without a contract for paper.
Our first contract specifically said that I retained electronic rights to the work. I wasn't about to let go of those rights for the second book.
"What percentage would you give me?" I asked, curious only to hear what he'd say. "I get 70 percent from Kindle and 70 percent from Nook."
He was dumbfounded. He had planned to send the file of my work to another vendor, who would put it up on Kindle and Nook, then pay him 50 cents for each copy sold. I get $2.10 per book now, I told him. Shock and awe.
"How do you get it in the Kindle?" he asked.
"I read the directions," I replied.
"Maybe I should have you put all my other books on Kindle," he said.
In the end, we signed a contract identical to my first with him, including a sentence that says I retain all electronic rights.
My paper publisher's family is now in it's third generation in the business. He's a savvy man, in the print world. But like many publishers he's caught in a very steep learning curve of the rapidly changing world.
So what's the lesson in this tale? We're all learning. But we indie authors have to stay with every bend in the road, or we're going to get run over. And never, never, never sell your electronic rights for less than a bizzilion dollars.
Have you had an experience like this?
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