Thursday, October 24, 2013
Our story so far ...
So, my new obsession is my Amazon rank and how many stars I can get.
Okay, maybe not a new obsession. I mean, that's what authors do, right? They look at Amazon.com to see how they are doing. I know some authors who've sworn off this time consuming and largely useless practice. Kudos. And I generally only check once in a while.
Until this past Tuesday when INK MAGE was published by 47North as a Kindle serial. That means it's only available as an eBook. On Amazon. And while it will eventually be collected into a handsome paperback, the novel right now lives only as digital whatnot on a website. That means you won't find it on shelves at your local book store. To the best of my knowledge, the book won't be reviewed by the usual places like Booklist and Publisher's Weekly. These are not complaints. 47North has been great to me. I'm simply acknowledging the reality that if I want to have any idea at all how INK MAGE is doing, I have to go to Amazon.com.
So I sit at my computer. Click. Click. Click. I probably check about every 90 seconds. Okay, that's an exaggeration.
But not by much.
Drink coffee. Wring hands. Try to write. Click.
At the time of writing this blog post, my Amazon rank for INK MAGE is 3,346. I've seen it as low as 2,200 and change. I have no idea what these numbers mean, but I keep looking at them as if they will communicate something to me.
The first review was a nice, reasonably thoughtful 4-star review. Okay. Broke the ice. Not bad. The next review was 1-star. Here is the review in it's entirety:
"The language was to foul for me...but I am a 70 year old woman who likes sci-fi. I only got to page 2 before I returned this book. This the first book I have ever returned or reviewed."
SHIT SNACKS! I mean, is that a review or a tantrum? What's a guy to do?
Nothing. Just laugh. I mean what can you do?
And yet all people know before purchasing the book -- aside from the description -- is the stars. The reviews. The ranking.
So this is my stupid life now, staring at a computer screen, watching a number go up or down, hoping for stars. Eventually, life will return to normal. But not yet. Click. Click. Click.