The league table

Tomorrow is the big day – the publication of “Notes of Change”! Today, therefore, is a day of preparation and reflection. And I haven’t updated you recently on the sales of the Sam series. So here goes – the number I have sold in paperback (print-on-demand through Amazon, and through physical bookshops to which I supply stock) and in various e-formats (mostly Kindle, but occasional other formats):

	Paperback via Amazon	E-book	Paperback via physical bookshop
Fatal Forgery	290	954	145
The Man in the Canary Waistcoat	90	122	75
Worm in the Blossom	62	78	56
Portraits of Pretence	63	78	43
Faith, Hope and Trickery	49	46	26
Heir Apparent	32	36	27
Totals	586	1314	372

As you can see, it’s almost three-to-one in favour of e-books – which is good in some ways as the royalty for e-books is more generous than that for paperbacks. And “Fatal Forgery” is far and away the most popular title. Yes, it’s been out for longest, but I think what the figures really suggest is that not enough people like “Fatal Forgery” enough to stick with the series. That’s something I need to address – another task for the book marketing to do list (how to make sure that people know there is a whole series of lovely Sam books). To be fair to Amazon, they are very good at highlighting series: when you buy one book in a series, the others appear in a tempting carousel display. Perhaps I need to make the pricing more appealing – or investigate the possibility of a seven-title omnibus edition… (Apparently you can’t call e-books a box set, as that implies a physical box – you can, however, call it an omnibus. Like the number 27 to Clapham.)

Looking backwards and forwards

And here we are, staring into a whole new year – there can’t be many among us who are sad to see the back of 2020…  I know that my creativity took quite a knock; much as I admire all those who managed to use the endless weeks and months of lockdown to burrow into their projects, I have to admit that constant low-level anxiety and uncertainty took up most of my brain space.  As a result, I am now confronted by two stalled books – “Gregory 1” and “Plank 7” – and I am very much hoping that 2021 will be different.

Self-pity aside, I must gird my loins and look at my sales figures for the past year.  But despite Amazon reporting target-busting sales and (apparently) people turned to reading for comfort and escape, the boom has not quite hit my own titles!  In 2020, I sold 36 paperbacks across the six titles in the Sam series, and 185 e-books.  (But before you pat me on the back for those e-books, I must confess that 153 of those were downloaded for free during a promotion I ran in March/April.  So only 32 of the e-books brought in any money.)  And my little business book – “The Solo Squid” – sold 12 paperbacks and 16 e-books.

And so to money: with an average royalty of 90p per sale, my life as an author netted me about £86.40 in royalties in 2020.  Unfortunately, I also had to pay £200 for the cover for “The Solo Squid”, plus my memberships of the Society of Authors and the Alliance of Independent Authors (neither of which I would do without), so I’m actually about £350 in the red.  But as I don’t drink (yet…), smoke, or collect diamond jewellery or expensive cars, it’s a hobby I can afford.  And once I can reclaim some of this mis-used brain space, I can get back to enjoying it.  Happy new year to one and all!

Please send cake

It’s time for the annual totting-up, as I prepare my self-assessment tax return and work out whether being an author makes me any money at all, or whether I am in fact paying for the privilege.  (Incidentally, my top tip for filling in tax returns – and indeed any complex form – is this: if you don’t understand the question, the answer is no.)

First, some stats for you:

• I have self-published 21 non-fiction books (all about anti-money laundering, all in paperback only), five Sam Plank novels (all in paperback and various e-formats, and the first two as audiobooks as well), one collection of articles that I wrote for the local newspaper (paperback only) and one box-set of the first three Sam Plank novels (e-format only)
• I have also self-published a guide to the Sam Plank series, with the first chapter of each novel and a glossary of Regency terms, but that’s free and so it brings in no royalties
• In June 2015 my tax return revealed that I had made just under £1,500 from the writing side of my professional life
• In 2016 that disappeared into a net loss of £44.87
• In 2017 I increased my net loss to £288.71 – obviously too much spending and not enough writing
• In 2018 I bucked the trend and went into the black, making a net profit of £1,338

So what can I report this year – up or down?  Profit or loss?  In the period 6 April 2018 to 5 April 2019 (that’s the crazy English tax year for you), I made a net profit from my authorliness of £1,294.31.  In essence, that’s royalties and sales minus cover designs, promo materials and membership of the Society of Authors.  It works out at £24.89 per week.  At this rate, I’ll be lucky to afford even a modest garret.

Don’t forget to vote for the title of “Plank 6” – for £24.89 a week, I’m certainly not choosing my own titles.

(And in case you’re wondering, the blog title is from a letter my father sent to his mum from university in the 1950s, which we still have in the family archive and which reads, in its entirety: “Dear mum, Washing enclosed.  Please send cake. Pete.”)

Visiting the source of Sam

Yesterday I had a Grand Day Out at the Ingram premises near Milton Keynes.  Months ago – I forget how – I came across the interesting fact that Ingram (a book distributor and now parent company to IngramSpark, the print-on-demand service that I use for my Sam Plank books) runs open days.  You go along to their offices/factory and they give you a talk about their services, a tour of the printing bit and a sandwich lunch.  I really, really wanted to see the printing bit and my husband, being a production engineer, is always up for touring a factory, so off we went.  And I can highly recommend it as a day out.

The Ingram people we met were, without exception, extremely helpful.  The open day I chose was geared specifically to IngramSpark clients – they also do days for people who use their more commercial printing services – and we were a mixed bunch, from one chap who said at the outset, Manuel-like, “I know nothing”, to those of us who had been through the POD mill and were vaguely familiar with most of the steps.  That said, I did learn quite a few new things – for instance, I had always steered clear of IS’s Global Connect option but have now signed up, ready for the orders to come flooding in from India and China.  And the printing process is a marvel to behold, from the giant rolls of paper (they have stocked up, given Brexit…) to the wonderful Infinitrim machine that grabs a stack of books in its mechanical arm and then – whoosh! – trims them all with a guillotine blade.  (If I were the manufacturer I would have called it the Triminator and persuaded Arnie to advertise it.)  And exactly as promised, the books are indeed printing on demand: you see them coming out of the Infinitrim and each book is different – it’s not a “print run” in the traditional sense but the fulfilment of thousands of orders for individual books.  There is even a Tardis-like structure waiting to come into service to speed up sorting and packing the books after printing.  (No photos: we had to sign non-disclosure agreements and pinky-swear to secrecy.)  And the sandwiches are delicious.

Joking aside, I found the day useful for two main reasons.  Firstly, we were shown all the paper types and cover finishes and trim sizes, so now I know what’s on offer.  And secondly, we met the staff who will be the ones answering any IS queries – and they were so generous with their time that I feel confident that any POD problems I might have will be dealt with promptly and kindly.  In these days of webchats with robots and emails to help departments that go unanswered for days, that’s something to be celebrated.

The book-buyer’s marketplace

Whenever I give talks about writing – and I’ve spoken in libraries and bookshops, and to book groups, WI meetings and the Rotary Club – people are always fascinated to know about the economics of self-publishing.  Telling them how much it costs to self-publish – nothing! – always surprises them.  (Of course writing a book costs a great deal in time, and you might well choose to spend money on professional editing services, or a cover designer, or a pretty template for the layout of the interior, but you can actually upload a book to a self-publishing service for no payment at all.)  But what really surprises them is how little of the purchase price eventually makes its way back to the author.

If I sell a paperback via Amazon – cover prices are £7.99 and £8.99 for the Sam books – I eventually get about £1.30 of that sale.  If I supply bookshops directly – which entails me ordering the books myself and then selling them on to the bookshop – I get about 50p per book in the end (and, in one case, I am actually subsidising a bookshop because I think it’s the right thing to do, and I lose about 20p per copy that they take…).  And if I sell an e-book – Amazon lists them for about £3.10 – I eventually get about £1.10.  I’m not eyeing up that retirement villa just yet!

And a very interesting article on this subject – where to buy your books in order to best benefit the author – has appeared on the website of the Society of Authors.  It’s a very illuminating read and, as you might imagine, flies the flag for independent bookshops and local libraries.  If you have any choice at all in how you consume your reading material, it’s well worth having a read – some of the observations will surprise you.  (Although much of it is concerned with traditionally published books – they talk of buying in bulk from distributors, which is obviously only a pipe dream for the self-published – it is still useful to have the marketplace dissected in this way.)  Click here for the article.

The man from WH Smith, he say…

…no.  As you may remember, I took my latest book – “Susan in the City: The Cambridge News Years” – into our local branch of WH Smith.  They weren’t keen on considering the Plank books when I took those in, but I thought that a book by a local author, a collection of columns that had appeared in the local paper, might have local appeal.  I had visions of a lovely yellow display alongside the newspaper…  The manager said that he would put the proposal to head office, and perhaps then I should have heard the distant knell of doom.

Anyway, I called in today and was told that, in the “current challenging book market”, WH Smith does not want to take on any new books until the start of their new financial year, in September.  I nodded politely, but inside I was saying, “Whaaaaaaat?”.  As everyone in the book world knows, physical books – as opposed to e-books – have made a strong recovery in recent months: indeed, sales through bricks-and-mortar shops rose by 7% in 2016.  And as for the idea that WH Smith is not going to put out any new titles on their shelves until September – I suspect that this is piffle.  If that’s really the case, they’re going to kick themselves for missing out on the new Ian Rankin paperback (due out on 15 June) and the new Jamie Oliver hardback cookbook (due out on 24 August).

Mind you, I can see how taking on my title in one branch might be too great a risk for head office.  I was offering them five copies, with them keeping 35% of the cover price, on a sale or return basis.  So if their copies did not sell, they could return them to me in any condition and not pay my invoice for £25.97.  Thank goodness they spotted that threat to their commercial survival – and handed any sales to the other two local bookshops that are stocking it, and to the online retailer they really dread.  Harrumph.

(And in case you think this is simply an enormous bunch of sour grapes, it’s not the refusal that has annoyed me: it’s the dissembling.  It’s the same as the email I received earlier this year from a small airline that I use regularly, informing me that, “in order to improve the customer experience”, they will no longer be offering free drinks on their flights.  We all know they’re doing it to reduce costs and increase profits – and why not? they’re a commercial airline, not a charity – so why the mealy-mouthed not-justification?)

Flight of fancy

Just a quick update today, so that you know that I’m not resting on my laurels.  (I’m a bit pleased with myself, as I see that in the past few days I have sold seven paperback copies of “Portraits of Pretence”, and that’s quite a heady pace for my books!)

Ever on the lookout for promotional opportunities, I was on a plane the other day and spotted that in their in-flight magazine they had an interview with an author, talking about the city where her book is set (the link is that the airline flies there).  Well, thought I, they also fly to London, where my books are set, and so I mocked up a similar interview with myself and sent it in to the magazine editor.  It might not – realistically, probably won’t – lead anywhere, but they certainly weren’t going to come looking for me, and it was a diverting way to spend the flight.

I have had a cheque from the Fitzwilliam Museum for their three copies of “Portraits”, so I don’t know whether that means they have sold them, or they just pay their bills very promptly (rather unusual in the book world, I have found!).  I will have to skulk in there soon to see if the shelf is bare…

As for “Plank 5”, I am going to start this week with my usual method: adding some relevant pictures to my Sam Pinterest board.  I’m not generally a very visual person, preferring words, but I do find that it puts me in the mood to look for illustrations of things that were happening in the right year – “Plank 5” takes place in 1828.

From little acorns

Well, this is a very strange run-up to official publication!  Knowing Amazon as I do, I uploaded my paperback and Kindle files on Saturday, as last time it took them about four days to get everything listed and catalogued, and I wanted it all to be in place for this coming Friday – Publication Day.  And wouldn’t you know it, they processed everything at lightning speed, and – great excitement – copies of “Portraits of Pretence” have already sold (three paperbacks and four Kindles).  However, I am (mainly through lack of time to do anything else) sticking to my original plans to do the proper launch on Friday, with updates to websites, links on Twitter and so on.

Friday is exciting for another reason.  You remember me talking about marketing “hooks”?  Well, a couple of years ago I went on a Grand Day Out to London, and visited, for the first time, the Wallace Collection in Manchester Square.  This is a little art gallery – formerly a collection in a private house – whose most famous exhibit is Frans Hals’ “Laughing Cavalier”.  But they also have a delightful collection of miniatures…  And when I started plotting “Portraits” in earnest, and realised that I wanted those portraits to be tiddlers, I went back to the Wallace and also spent a day reading their full miniatures catalogue in the University Library here in Cambridge.  So a couple of weeks ago I emailed the Wallace curator of miniatures, explaining that my book had been inspired by her collection, and asking to call in to meet her, thank her, and present her with a book – which I am doing on Friday.  I am also hoping to persuade her that I should give an author talk on the book and its origins.  I’ll let you know.

In the slough of despond

I usually try to keep this blog fairly optimistic, and indeed I generally find writing the Plank books and marketing them to be a great and enjoyable adventure.  But I did promise to be honest about the ups and downs of self-publishing, and today we’re down.

For over a year now I have been wooing a potential new high street outlet for paperback Sam, here in Cambridge.  I have been in to see the manager on at least half a dozen occasions, I’ve given him copies of “Fatal Forgery”, “The Man in the Canary Waistcoat” and (on the day it was published) “Worm in the Blossom”.  He was very encouraging, but said that he would have to get permission from head office as his branch is part of a (very large, countrywide) chain.  In December 2015 he said that he had that permission, and I should come in this week – after the festive chaos and once things were back to normal – to arrange the taking into stock of quite a lot of copies.  He talked of a whole shelf dedicated to Sam, with the “local author” slant heavily promoted, and copies even showing face out (a big deal in the bookshop world, as you can imagine).  I was quietly jubilant, but did not tell anyone, being a bit superstitious like that.  The manager and I arranged a meeting for this morning.  I pedalled off – in the sleet, I might add – and when I arrived, he was not there.  Not only not there, but no longer employed by the business.  As of yesterday.  I was literally speechless.

So what to do next?  Start again with his replacement and hope that they are of the same mind?  Or give it up as a bad job and try somewhere else?  Just right now, I have treated myself to a jam doughnut and this confessional blog post.  I’ll probably be a bit grumpy for the rest of the day, and then get over it.  Ho hum.  I bet this never happens to JK Rowling.

Opening a can of e-Worms

I am a rugby widow.  Even though England have now been knocked out of the World Cup, my husband is  continuing to watch so that he can decide “who else to support” – and apparently Namibia/Georgia was the best match he has ever seen.  Luckily it has all coincided with my preference to spend time with the other man in my life, Sam Plank, and so this weekend is dedicated to the e-versions of “Worm in the Blossom”.

As I have explained before (I’m a bit obsessed with this), the key to successful self-publishing (which is not the same as profitable self-publishing – it’s just managing to get the book out there) is working backwards.  Decide on your publication date – for “Worm”, it’s next Friday, 16 October – and then work backwards from there.  And this means uploading your files several days before you want to be certain that they are available for sale.  When I was new to it all first uploaded “Fatal Forgery”, I clicked refresh on Amazon every three seconds for about four days, until I realised that these listing sites work to their own rhythm and timetable, and my fretting was having no impact on anything except my own blood pressure and sleep pattern.  So with “Canary” I just planned a bit further ahead, uploaded the files well in advance, and then went all Zen.  And I have done exactly the same with “Worm”: this afternoon I uploaded to CreateSpace everything they need for the paperback edition – cover, interior, price, distribution channels, search terms, the whole lot.  I have no idea when it will actually appear in Amazon’s catalogue, but I do know that, with six days’ lead time, it will definitely be there on the launch day.

And tomorrow is to be devoted to e-Worms.  As well as the paperback editions of the Sam Plank novels, I also offer them in Kindle, Kobo, Smashwords, iBooks and Gumroad (PDF) versions.  This is of course the same basic text, but formatted – or rather, stripped of most formatting – in slightly different ways for each one.  It’s a bit tedious, but fun when it comes to the uploading.  Again, the actual appearance date on each website is in the lap of the self-publishing gods, but come Friday, they’ll all be there.  And boy oh boy am I looking forward to Friday!