Amazon and the Struggling Author
Amazon makes little sense really. Until yesterday at noon, I
had a seller account. I could list surplus books, excess photographic equipment
and even old worn-out walking sticks. Today none of that is possible and Amazon
is demanding a resounding £26 per month for my custom.
You must be Joe King is my response since, not only is the single-breasted lady intent on depriving me of a pound or two, but she is seemingly intent on completely confusing me. It’s the same with the selling of my latest book. Well, my only book if truth be told. Yesterday, Amazon were flogging my tome at a massive 31% discount. That’s not good really since my author’s royalties are based on the gross sales price. So, if a copy of my book sells at the full £12.99 recommended purchase price, I make about a pound. For a discounted price, I make much less. I am guessing that both my publishers, god bless them, and Amazon make much more dosh than poor old me. But that is, of course, the fate of the prolific author. Unless you are Margaret Attwood or some long dead Hemingway you are most unlikely to make more than a few thousand pounds from a book.
But, that is not why us authors write of course. Not for us the normality of a grinding factorial existence. Not for us a grey tainted boring life. And not for us some richly gilded aspiration to the unachievable. It’s all good writer-wise. Despite the richly sad ravages of the Amazon discount system, us authors just want to make an odd buck or three and, of course, see our name in print.
Oh, and if you can be arsed, buy my book.
It’s a steal at £11.34 today, although god only knows what the price might be by dawn tomorrow: https://www.thehistorypress.co.uk/publication/the-a-z-of-curious-aberdeenshire/9780750983792/
You must be Joe King is my response since, not only is the single-breasted lady intent on depriving me of a pound or two, but she is seemingly intent on completely confusing me. It’s the same with the selling of my latest book. Well, my only book if truth be told. Yesterday, Amazon were flogging my tome at a massive 31% discount. That’s not good really since my author’s royalties are based on the gross sales price. So, if a copy of my book sells at the full £12.99 recommended purchase price, I make about a pound. For a discounted price, I make much less. I am guessing that both my publishers, god bless them, and Amazon make much more dosh than poor old me. But that is, of course, the fate of the prolific author. Unless you are Margaret Attwood or some long dead Hemingway you are most unlikely to make more than a few thousand pounds from a book.
But, that is not why us authors write of course. Not for us the normality of a grinding factorial existence. Not for us a grey tainted boring life. And not for us some richly gilded aspiration to the unachievable. It’s all good writer-wise. Despite the richly sad ravages of the Amazon discount system, us authors just want to make an odd buck or three and, of course, see our name in print.
Oh, and if you can be arsed, buy my book.
It’s a steal at £11.34 today, although god only knows what the price might be by dawn tomorrow: https://www.thehistorypress.co.uk/publication/the-a-z-of-curious-aberdeenshire/9780750983792/
And, of course, please excuse my expletives. I did not mean
to intrude.
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