Just because you think they're out to get you...

As Lexi Revellian wrote recently, Writer's Angst is a well-documented complaint.  I've moved up a gear.  I have Writer's Paranoia.

It's been coming on for a while.  I had a week where Looking for Buttons sold pretty well.  Then I had a week with no sales at all.  I panicked and held a three-day free promotion over the Bank Holiday weekend, which saw it climb to number 7 in Amazon's UK humour chart and number 29 (I think) in their US humor chart.  I waited, with the obligatory clichéd bated breath, to see how this would affect sales.

It didn't.  Nothing happened for a few days, then today, glory be, I had a five star review on Amazon UK (thank you, whoever you are!) and sold a respectable handful of copies.  When I checked a little later (compulsive checking of ranking and sales figures is an early symptom of Writer's Paranoia), two of these had been returned for a refund.

Well, that was it.  Crushed does not even begin to describe it.  While the calm-eyed scientist part of me was pointing out that it may not be that they actively disliked it, it may even have been an inadvertent multiple purchase caused by wobbly fingers, and anyway, does it really matter, the rest of me, the stressed majority that is already gibbering because I start a new job next week, is obsessing over those two returns.  Did they buy the book expecting haberdashery tips?  Fifty Shades-esque squelchiness?  Did they hate the prose?  The characters?  The plot?

I've taken some deep breaths and listened to my inner dispassionate scientist.  Sometimes you buy something and it's not what you expect so you return it.  I'm sure M&S don't weep because I've returned a jacket that makes me look like I'm wearing a cardboard box underneath it.  Why should I react any differently when someone returns my book?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to check my sale figures again...

Portrait of the author

When I was getting ready to publish Looking for Buttons (yes, she's going on about that again), one of the many gems of wisdom from the fabulous indie author Lexi Revellian was that I needed an author page on Amazon.  With a photo.

Ah.

I don't do photos.  Not in a diva-ish, sunglasses on, hand-over-the-lens sort of manner.  More in an oh-sorry-did-I-just-break-your-camera-by-looking-at-it? way.  A few (okay, more than a few) years back, I had vague hopes that eventually I might mature into Eleanor Bron-esque elegance.  All I've managed is brontosaurus.

But in this image-conscious world the look is all, and I can't possibly go on blogging facelessly.  I'm not going to do all the work for you, though.  I'll give you a thumbnail sketch and your imagination can fill in the rest.  This is what I look like:

The secret love child of Nana Mouskouri and Harry Palmer.

Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking...

Looking for Buttons has been on sale for two days.  So far I've sold six copies, which might not sound like many but feels like a huge triumph.  That's six whole people who've looked at the cover, read the blurb and thought "Yeah, I'll give that a go, and what's more, I'll pay for the privilege."  I find that wildly exciting.  (It is true that I don't get out much.)

What's more, it's already taking on a life of its own, thanks to friends using Facebook and Twitter to spread the word.  Twinkle Mummy has been badgering members of her local twins club to buy it and Norfolkbookworm has blogged about it, not once but twice!  (Norfolkbookworm, I must confess, is not entirely impartial.  She's been a good friend for over twenty years, has been one of Looking for Buttons's staunchest supporters, and roped in her very talented dad to do the cover!)

While I'm handing out the laurels, I must thank the inspirational Lexi Revellian who has been so generous with advice and support.  Her books, including the best-selling Remix and Replica, are great reads and her writing blog is a goldmine of information for the aspiring self-publisher.

Lastly, I must thank my late aunt and uncle.  They gave me my first PC some years ago, thinking it would help me study.  I wrote a book on it instead.  This book.  They're not here to see it published but I hope they would be pleased.