I should have a thick skin, but I don’t. The sad truth is that my writing should not be self-published. I’m good. Very good at it. But the masses don’t care. My work is overlooked and I don’t have the resources to pay for PR, marketing, a better cover probably, and advertising. I’m tapped out. Undiscovered. As I peruse the ebooks that seem to sell well, there is a common denominator, they are books I would never read. Too simple, poorly written, fantasies with erotic overtones. They sell. Oh yes. They sell. There are a few poor reviews sprinkled here and there, but the public wants this stuff. The public that buys self-published books doesn’t want thoughtful or well-written work. That’s for the trade. The monied works pushed by publishing houses. But they didn’t want my work. They didn’t want me. Yet, I know my work is quite good. The few that have read my work agree, for the most part.
But how to get noticed without spending a lot of money? Beats me. None of the followers of this blog have tried my work. None of my 600+ subscribers to this blog have put their toes in the water. Why follow this blog or subscribe? What’s the point? My frustration at this reality is a daily feeling that must be endured. Must be overcome to keep me going and feel happy that I know I’ve written good stuff. Right now my book Sunspots is being advertised on a new site for me, BookHearts.com. I’ve sold one ebook. That’s great because whenever I advertise at the Fussy Librarian, I sell zero. These are cheap places to advertise, under $20, and I didn’t have to reduce the price of the book to 99 cents, which I’m loath to do. One book doesn’t make back the cost but who knows maybe I’ll sell two.
Thought of the day: Being good at what you do is its own reward.
