Anxious Kitten vs Focused Dolphin – Chapter Seven on Self-Publishing
Envision a small shakey, frazzled ball of fluff with two beedy eyes peering out. That was me this time last week. Cute, but you wouldn’t trust one with much money or responsibility. (Do fat cats ever get anxious kitten syndrome? Doubt it.)
I have an interview tomorrow for a start-up programme for young entrepreneurs. (Run by the local uni, look yours up for sommat similar, it’s quite common & you don’t need to have attended the place neccessarily). If successful in joining their course, they’ll help with my business plan and the general boring uncreative stuff I need support with. In return they take 2% royalties for the first year and 3% for the next three years.
But last week I began crunching my numbers and clarified what I already knew. Due to the expense of printing books, the likelihood that I will have any actual profit is pretty low. With eBooks, yes. Potentially up to 75% royalty. But my profit margin for paperbacks will be a fine line constructed by a skilled spider. Particularly were I stupid enough to try and get the thing in the U.K’s big book chain. Then the distributor (Gardners) would apparently snaffle 60% commission, which would leave me with approximately minus something or other. I think I’m gonna stay indie when it comes to bricks & mortar bookshops.
But my motivations aren’t in putting money in my pocket, they’re for continuing the project. If I make back even half my investment, I should be able to continue publishing books. I’m just not sure that will sell my project to these folks. I’m guessing they need to make something back to continue helping young business people, which is fair enough.
This week I’ve gone all sleek and philosophical about the whole thing. I’ve written a budget, made some half-brained sense of my extensive research and reviewed the ideas I wrote in my application some months ago. It was beneficial merely to have a deadline to have all this done by. So even if I lose, I win. I’m in a better place to crack on with the project.
In other news I’m almost ready to send Dogtooth Chronicals for the copy-edit. Which is good because I’m sick of reading my own words. I’m on the verge of falling out with most of my characters, like when you spend a long holiday with someone who you considered a friend at the start, but by the end everything they do and say is so irritating you consider gnawing you’re own arm off to distract your brain with adrenaline. Or something.
I also tentatively began putting words into sentences for novel number two. So far terrible words in a terrible order, but hopefully it will distract me a> from how sick I am of the (utterley brilliant of course) first novel and b> from work politics & other neuroticisms.
Being a focused dolphin is a little annoying smug. Like those self-help quotes people post on twitter which make me want to stab the screen. Never fear though, I won’t stay peaceful, friendly and streamlined for long. I just wasn’t build that way.
Previously on Lost…