November 20th 2019
Today a work friend told me that she’d just finished reading my book, and it prompted me to log in to my Kindle Direct Publishing account for the first time in six months. Imagine my surprised when it turned out I’d sold 300,000 copies since I last checked.
Kidding. But can you imagine?
As soon as I ‘broke even’ on sales — meaning when I’d made the £60 that the cover art cost me to have designed — I stopped checking how many I was selling. I profitted, and that was the only thing that really mattered to me.
Now, because Amazon does sometimes deposit money in my account I was aware that the book was still getting a sale here or there, because Amazon kept giving me a couple of quid money every month or so. If I’d really sold thousands, I’m sure I would’ve noticed. Though the profit margin isn’t as much as you might think.
When I told my her that I’d made 92p off her reading it, she was shocked at how low that was. She’d read it through Kindle Unlimited (which is like Netflix for books) so the money I made was a bit lower than usual, but not by book. The ebook version is priced at £1.99, and from that I make 70%, or £1.16 of every sale. The paperback version is (was) priced at £7.99, and from that I make 60% of the post-printing-cost-profit, or £1.72.
It’s not a lot. Bezos gets the rest. Fucking Bezos.
The (minimal) money aside, I think the coolest part of having published my book is the fact that there is a copy of it on four continents. They are mainly in the UK, but there is also one in America, and one in Australia. And I know that my sister’s brother-in-law took one to Hong Kong with him and left it in the library of the school he worked at.
Until tomorrow, that’s pretty cool.