November 6th 2018
Today I sold the first ever digital copy of my self-published novel. And then shortly after that, I sold the second copy. I “announced” yesterday, with absolutely no enthusiasm, that I’d finally got around to hitting the publish button on the novel I wrote five years ago. I wasn’t surprised to discover that my Mum bought the first copy. Truly, I’d expect nothing less. I don’t know who bought the other one though, but I imagine it was one of you lot, because you’re the only people I told it was even live, so thanks for that.
I guess I should plug the link to the ebook version, but when the paperback is released next(?) week, the ebook is going to be free with every purchase, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense just yet. (Sorry Mum) Plus, paperback royalties are better for me, apparently.
So I guess I’m officially a professional self-published author. Well, kind of. I’ve made two sales, but I think I once read that you can’t actually withdraw royalties from Amazon until you reach £100 worth of sales. Because… Amazon, I guess.
I joined an online community of self-published authors today, just to kind of gauge if the indifference I’m feeling (or not feeling) about my launch is normal. Apparently it is normal. Because, I’m told, the hard work starts now. Now I have to market the damn thing all by myself as well. Or, that’s what you’re supposed to do. I’m not sure I have the mental capacity to really grind for it, but at some point I might.
There are other things I could do, like send the book to be reviewed, or send copies to local libraries and bookshops, or, you know, actually put the link in these blog posts when I talk about it. But for the time being, it’s out there, it’s live, and that’s enough.
Until tomorrow, for now, at least.