Radio Show Interview

The Authors Show (see linked in) will be broadcasting an interview about one of my books :The Boy Who Ran (Middle Grade novel set in the mid-archaic period in N. America—4000BC) on June 9th, all day.

“The Boy Who Ran” won the IPPY gold medal for juvenile fiction in 2014, and a Moonbeam Children’s Book Award (Bronze Medal) that same year.

It’s the story of the lone survivor of a massacre—a very young boy—who fled into the forest and was found and taken in by another village, but the trauma of the event strongly affected him, making him a near outcast among the People.

Late one summer, around the time of the boy’s 12th year, he realizes that something needs to change. He spends most of his time in the forest, feeling more of a kinship with the animals than with the People. This is the story of how he strives to overcome his own issues and the perceptions of the other people in the village, to find his place among the People.

This book was also made into an audiobook, narrated by Lyssa Browne (the voice of Slippery Toad in a popular game)

I normally post 3 chapters from each of my books on my own web site: michaelselden.com.

#middlegrade #interviews #novel #booksforkids

How much does it cost to publish a book?

I’ve heard this question a number of times, and my answer—”It depends”—rarely satisfies the person asking. I can’t help it. Yes, you can probably publish something for practically nothing, but it may not be your best work.

What does it cost depends on the team helping you. I personally don’t get squeamish when spending on talent because good talent is worth it.

After I’m satisfied with my draft work, including having sent copies to several people I trust to give me an honest opinion on the work, with suggestions on weak plot elements or weak characters—that I correct, I send the book to my editor.

I’ve been working with John Hudspith, an author / editor, who lives in England. I’m comfortable working with him and his suggestions on both content and things like grammar are welcome. Once we’ve been through the entire book and I’ve adopted changes he suggests, then I read through the book again to look for anything that I may still not like. Once I’ve done this, I’ve been sending my word documents to Jamie at Belle Etoile studios for design—interior and cover layout, including potentially a custom font.

Jamie put together a proof copy of what the book will look like in print form. After my own review and updates, I normally then ask for the help of a proof reader. A proof reader looks primarily at the technical aspects of the print edition, although often also being an editor, will look at other matters.

Once the proof reader’s comments are adopted by Jamie, I take one last look at it and then begin the process of uploading the manuscript (and covers) to my print and distribution agent: Lightning Source (a subsidiary of Ingram). Meanwhile, we format the Kindle edition for uploading to Amazon.

After going through the Lightning Source and Amazon feedback to correct any remaining errors, the edition goes live.

In parallel with this, I file for copyright with the US government and assign the ISBNs through Bowkers—one for each edition.

The total cost—soup to nuts—varies, based on the book length, but is usually in the 3000 to 4000 dollar range (and well worth it). That does not include marketing, which has normally been about 60% of my cost—marketing has not been my strong suit..

The universe began with an explosion that still reverberates after around 15 billion years—called the Big Bang. Since that time, stars and come and gone in bursts of energy and if we were to sample space outside our little bubble of atmosphere, both in the solar system and in interstellar space, we’d experience massive radiation.

The sun, in some way, protects us from cosmic particles of very high energy—the solar wind and the sun’s magnetic field acts as a shield with a kind of barrier called the heliopause, well past the orbits of the ordinary planets. Of course the sun also produces outbursts of radiation—solar wind is an example of this.

In addition to this normal, everyday threat, we also have black holes, supernovas, and something called a hyper-nova (or collapsar), where a rotating star of 30 solar masses (or larger) exhausts its normal fuel and produces a truly massive outburst of gamma radiation along two cone angles alined with the axis of rotation, producing blasts of energy second only to the big bang itself. If the Earth were to be within this cone angle of a start within a thousand light years of Earth, all (or most) life on our home world would be fried.

To this, add the strange nature of our solar system, and the asteroids, comets, and even potentially rogue super planets wandering thorough the galaxy, any of which could, and eventually will, impact the earth. Other forces, like super volcano eruptions, don’t even register on these scales of energy—although if Yellowstone volcano were to erupt, it would mean an end to the United States.

While we ponder expending all of our human energies to combat what may be a phantom threat like global warming, remember that humans have survived, thus far, by adapting to changes, not trying to control what cannot be controlled. If all of our own energies are expended on such futile attempts, we will have nothing with which to respond to real threats.

Ponder this as people tell us that we must all sacrifice everything we have and give control of our resources (and surrender our liberties) to these doomsayers—only the latest in a series of doomsayers demanding absolute power over us all, from witch doctors who warned about how angry the spirits would be if we didn’t obey them, to those predicting mass global starvation in the 20th century from overpopulation, to predictions of the coming ice age in the 1970’s. There are always those who demand tribute and absolute obedience from everyone, but in the grand scheme of things these charlatans come and go with regularity, just as eventually we will all depart this violent, chaotic universe.

What are we made of? And where did it come from?

Do you ever ask yourself questions like this?

Our bodies contain Carbon, certainly, with oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, phosphorous, potassium, magnesium, sodium, sulphur, and chlorine, and traces of other things.

With the exception of the hydrogen—which was created after the big bang—pretty much everything else was forged in the nuclear fusion furnace at the core of a star. Yes, we’re made of “stardust”. In fact, most of what we see was at some point forged in the core of a star. Stars fuse hydrogen to helium and helium to carbon and so forth, as they age.

Some fusion reactions (the heavier elements especially) don’t produce much energy, or even absorb energy. As this happens to a larger extent (based on the fuel available to the star), we see the stars aging, going from a blue or white or yellow color to red and, growing in size. Eventually, they collapse, and either become a white dwarf—for a while, then fade to a brown dwarf—or they explode, spreading stardust across the galaxy, which is eventually reformed into planets and stars and moons and people. We’re a part of the cycle of life for energy and matter.

Really large stars can become neutron stars or black holes.

We’re all also energy, since matter and energy are different forms of the same thing. In another perspective we’re a kind of wave in the energy, a part of time-space. Why and how is a question for philosophers, but the universe is certainly interesting.

Things to think about while you’re trying to sleep . . .

After spending a few hours with Frédéric Paul, I’ve chosen (at least) the neighborhood where the main character from Disobedience lived for several years. Since the character does not age, he will need to move now and then. I’ve also decided on a few of the places where he will have worked during that period.

I think I can describe the city now, how it started and evolved, especially from 1920 to 1939, and what life probably was like. I think, because of the character’s inability to age naturally, he will spend some years in Avignon, too and then—perhaps—return to Aix.

In 1934 and afterward, the political environment here changed, as it did in much of Europe. By 1939, I think many people expected another war, and that would have been the signal fro the main character to leave for the US—a place he had never been. I call him John in the prequel short, but he had many names.

This is my last weekend here in Aix before I leave for Avignon. I’ll be there for about 11 days and then in Nie for a few days before going to Italy. Then I’ll spend the holidays, until January 9th, visiting friends in different parts of Italy, mostly Matera, Rome, and Camerino.

Après avoir passé quelques heures avec Frédéric Paul, j’ai choisi (au moins) le quartier où le personnage principal de Disobedience a vécu plusieurs années. Puisque le personnage ne vieillit pas, il devra bouger de temps en temps. J’ai également choisi quelques endroits où il aura travaillé pendant cette période.

Je pense que je peux maintenant décrire la ville, comment elle a commencé et évolué, en particulier de 1920 à 1939, et à quoi ressemblait probablement la vie. Je pense que, du fait de l’incapacité du personnage à vieillir naturellement, il passera également quelques années à Avignon puis, peut-être, à Aix.

En 1934 et après, l’environnement politique a changé ici, comme dans beaucoup de pays européens. En 1939, beaucoup de gens s’attendaient à une autre guerre, ce qui aurait incité le personnage principal à partir pour les États-Unis, un endroit où il ne s’était jamais rendu. Je l’appelle John dans le préquelet, mais il avait beaucoup de noms.

C’est mon dernier week-end ici à Aix avant de partir pour Avignon. Je serai là pendant environ 11 jours, puis quelques jours à Nie avant de me rendre en Italie. Ensuite, je passerai les vacances, jusqu’au 9 janvier, à rendre visite à des amis dans différentes régions d’Italie, p

Always something interesting here in southern France (I’ve been in the town of Aix for over 3 weeks and have another five days to go before I move to he town of Avignon)—always something new to learn.

I’ve been researching the town for the book, Disobedience.

In the meantime, I’ve put together the final touches on the draft version (still a bit rough) of a chapter for “The Wastelands and the Wilderness” (Which is Part 2 of The Balance).

The period of history I am looking at in Aix is from 1920 to 1939. The character, John, moved to Aix from Italy in 1920 and left Europe as WW-2 was starting in 1939.

My research is being conducted in layers. First I identify interesting years from events that happened and then I drill down into what was happening during the month or months while these events happen.  I will include some of this in the novel as John goes about his life in Aix.

Some Interesting photos from then and now:

This is going to be a bit of a stream of consciousness log

Ive been in Aix now for about a week (out of 6 weeks planned).  When I was getting on the train from Paris to Aix, something popped in my knee. Upon reaching Aix, I went to  pharmacy and got a pair of crutches—people were very helpful—and my knee is doing a little bit better each day, although for safety I still take use  crutch when walking.

I’m renting an apartment through AirBNB. The apartment is ideally located and quite functional, with a small kitchen area, including a washing machine. I rented the place for a month, and will travel to Avignon next, where I also rented an apartment.

I did buy a one-month membership at a gym here in Aix. It cost me 99 Euros, although I could have paid 15 Euros per visit instead. Lifting weights is a part of my overall health regime, although I don’t exercise as often as I should. I am using the “Loft” gym. The owner is clearly a bodybuilder.

I’ve noticed how much faster the battery of my phone drains here in either Aix and in Paris. I attribute it to a couple of things: 1) I use location services more and it uses power, too; 2) the phone struggles to find and keep connections more, either because the cell towers are farther apart or because the stone buildings block the signal more——or both.

At home, I can go 2 days before the phone’s battery level even get’s close to 60%. Here, I need to plug the phone in to keep the charge above 55 or 60% after just a half day.
It’s easy to switch your phone to local number, just find a service provider and buy a prepaid SIM card with the data and minutes you’ll need. I bought what was considered a 2-week card (although he card is good for 6 months) with 1000 minutes of talk time and 10GB of data for about 44 Euros from Orange (one of the largest providers in France). If I run out of data (I never use many minutes) then I can recharge it.

Getting a local SIM is much more efficient than using your US number. I will probably get a new card when I go to Italy (as usually do).You just pop the card in your phone out and insert the new one and Tah-dah you’re in business.
I use Watts Up and I also have an app that makes my phone an extension of my Vonage VOIP phone in the US, so calls (minutes) are free, but I need the data for when I am not near a free WIFI signal. I also use an encrypted VPN when using WIFI to keep my traffic secure.

To navigate the streets, I use Mapme (or is it mapsme). You download maps in advance so the system does not depend on having a signal while you’re walking, and it’s pretty good.

An update on the whole Orange Tourist phone thing (Nov 1, 2018):

I was very careful to only sparingly use data (I used 1GB in 2 weeks and zero minutes taking), but the service expired in 2 weeks nonetheless. I Tried to recharge the phone at an Orange office in Aix, but the man there said he could not help me “Pas ici”—this despite the Orange web site (topup.orange.com) saying that’s where I should go.  I did manage to recharge it for 2 weeks 5GB and 500 minutes for 21+ Euros (with tax).

It was a frustrating morning, and I did use as much French at the Orange office as I could, even arguing (slightly) with the man in French, but my sense is that he simply did not want to help. I suggest not counting on the Orange office in Aix.

I am traveling in Aix-en-Provence, doing research for the book, “Disobedience”. I had a small accident while taking the train from Paris and am using crutches to get around. I hope the injury isn’t too bad.

Aix is a town formed under the Romans and has been an important part of the region for a long time. Specifically, I am reseraching the period between 1920 and 1939—after the fascists took root in Italy but before World War 2 started.The character John (or Jaques) fled Italy to escape the Fascists and then anticipated the war. In 1939 he escaped to America, Boston.

I will be in Aix for about a month and then in Avignon for another couple of weeks beforewrapping up the research.

I used Google’s Translate for the following, although I am trying to learn French, too.

Je me rends à Aix-en-Provence pour effectuer des recherches sur le livre “Disobedience”. J’ai eu un petit accident alors que je prenais le train depuis Paris et que j’utilise des béquilles pour me déplacer. J’espère que la blessure n’est pas trop grave.

Aix est une ville formée sous les Romains et constitue depuis longtemps une partie importante de la région. Plus précisément, je réserve la période comprise entre 1920 et 1939, après l’enracinement des fascistes en Italie, mais avant le début de la Seconde Guerre mondiale. Le personnage John (ou Jaques) a fui l’Italie pour fuir les fascistes, puis a anticipé la guerre. En 1939, il s’échappe en Amérique, à Boston.

Je serai à Aix pendant environ un mois, puis à Avignon pendant deux semaines pour conclure les recherches.

What did the Shire, from the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, look like? If you’ve seen the movie then you’ve seen one interpretation, but I wasn’t referring to the movie—I meant the books. To me, writing and reading is a kind of collaboration.

There isn’t just one version of a story, but almost as many as there are readers + the writer(s). We each have a picture of what we see in our minds, an image of the characters, and even a kind of physical performance (virtual) of every scene. I know what the Shire looks like to me. I know what Mordor looks like, as well as the Glittering Caves of Aglarond (something you didn’t get to see in the movies). Of course a film HAS to make compromises, or it would cost an infinite sum to build the sets, and the movie would stretch out in time.

I also know what the town of Bosworth looks like to me, and the observatory in I Am, the forest and plains in The Boy Who Ran, and just about every part of The Land from The Balance. I saw them as I was writing, just as I watched the Boy running through the forest and along the branches of its trees. When I wrote the scene in Bosworth where the spirit of the murdered girl visits Jim in his bedroom, I wrote it in a dark house, with just my Mac Air on—that made it all the more easy to write, and to see. Writers and readers share a special bond—a partnership—in the real-time play that happens in our minds when we read.

It’s a bond writers should never take for granted, because if it isn’t clear for you when you’re writing the scene then it probably won’t spark that special feeling in the reader.

A photo taken at the CAL event where finalists in each of the book categories were to read. The event took place at one of the Tattered Book bookstore locations, in a suburb of Denver.

A freiend took this photo while I was talkingabout Bosworth (which is a finalist for the 2018 CAL writing award for YA fiction). The annual CAL competition has been happening for about 70 years.

I am providing here (for review), two excerpts form the book BOSWORTH. I’ll only have time to read one of them and am asking people to vote for which excerpt is better for the brief reading. You can vote by emailing me or on Facebook.

Excerpt 1

Taken from Chapter 1 (Jim)

. . . .

Don’t forget to brush your teeth before you go to bed. Now come give me a big hug.” She said almost the same thing every night. “I won’t forget.”

The nightly hug was a new thing. Sometimes his mom squeezed so hard Jim had trouble breathing, but he never complained. Not now. After saying good night, he stopped by the front door to let Bo in, being careful not to let it slam this time

. . . . .

Jim walked over to the window without turning on the light. It was easier to see out with the room dark. The moon had risen now, but was behind the house where he couldn’t see. Moonlight touched the tops of the trees, creating a silver cast that spread out across the maples and oaks and ash and chestnuts that filled much of the park. And he wondered about the girl again.

“What do you think?” he asked Bo, leaning heavily on the windowsill.

About what? the dog asked.

Jim had never questioned how Bo could communicate with him—there were lots of things about him Jim didn’t understand, but that had stopped being important a long time ago.

“The girl, of course. Was she real? It was already almost full dark when we saw her. Where do you think she was going?”

I’m not sure, the beagle said. Jim couldn’t decide which question Bo had answered, but could hear the hesitation in his voice. He knew it would be a waste of time to press Bo further.

Bo had come into Jim’s life at a critical time—not long after he started talking. Before Bo, others … strangers … used to visit him in his room at night. Most of the visitors were children, but there were adults and odd-looking creatures, too. The adults always seemed angry. Bo told him that these intruders were unimportant and mostly a part of his imagination—not real. He said Jim should ignore them, and that he should pretend he couldn’t see them. Soon after that, the others stopped coming, but Bo stayed.

At first Jim didn’t realize his mom and dad couldn’t see Bo. But there were so many odd things in the world that this one little discrepancy didn’t seem all that significant—odd things surrounded Jim his whole life. It was hard for a boy his age to know what to pay attention to and what to ignore, but Bo helped him to understand what was important, and he stayed with Jim through the numerous changes in his life—houses and cities and even countries, as his family moved from place to place.

Jim’s father was in the army and for some reason that meant the family had to move a lot. Then one day, about three years ago, Bo simply vanished. His parents told Jim it was because he no longer needed an imaginary friend—that he’d outgrown such things. But Bo had returned last year while Jim was in the hospital, still recovering from the accident.

Sometime in the early morning hours Jim’s mother touched his arm, pulling him from a deep sleep. His pillow and hair were wet with sweat. He couldn’t see his mom’s face. It was hidden in shadow from a lamp in the hallway. He looked toward the window and saw the moon outside. That meant it was close to sunrise.

“Wha …?” he asked, yawning.

“You were yelling again, honey,” she said.

“Sorry.” Jim turned his pillow over to the dry side.

“You want to come sleep in my room?”

“No, thank you. I’m okay.” Bo’s here, he added silently.

It was hard at first to remember what he’d been dreaming about, not that there was any real doubt. He’d been having the same nightmarefor more than a year. It all started back in the hospital, and Jim was still learning to deal with the dream, just as he’d learned to deal with everything else the accident had changed. It always started the same way, although over time little differences had crept in—details he was still remembering about that awful night.

———

He’d been riding in the back of their old Jeep, drifting in and out of sleep. Every time he opened his eyes he’d see his dad up front, staring out into the darkness ahead of them. It made him feel warm and safe to know he was so alert. Even in sleep Jim could feel the car moving as it followed curves in the road. He’d seen a map of their route before they’d left DC. It sometimes ran over hills, and sometimes followed a river through a long valley

. . . .

The Jeep’s screaming tires jolted Jim awake, but he was only conscious for a few brief moments. A loud thump and a crunching noise filled the night as he was thrown into the back of the front seat. Then something heavy hit him from behind and that was all he could remember for a long time. But after months in the hospital, Jim began to piece together other fragments of his memory from that night. Today he’d remembered something new.

The scent of honeysuckle had been coming through the Jeep’s window just before the accident. His dad had cracked one window open to let in fresh air. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place, probably triggered by the sickly-sweet smell during his walk home. Last fall he’d remembered awakening in fire. It burned his face and the upper part of his arm. His right leg had been numb at the time, as though it were no longer attached to his body. Not long after he regained consciousness, the car tilted and broke free of whatever had delayed its fall, and then it rolled over and over before landing upside down in the river.

Cold water rushed in through cracks in the body and through the open window. Jim remembered struggling to get free from whatever was pinning him in place at the time. He tried to keep his head above water, to gasp in the small amount of air still trapped near the floorboard. He recalled how his side and abdomen felt ‘funny’ and that his leg had begun to ache. Jim knew he couldn’t hold on for long. The water level kept rising until just his mouth was able to reach that one last tiny pocket of air—and then he lost consciousness again. The water had put out the fire, but now he was drowning. The next time Jim woke up he was in the hospital. …

Excerpt segments taken from BOSWORTH

Copyright Michael Selden 2017

Excerpt 2

Taken from Chapter 11 (Missing)

…

The teacher had started a new unit on the period just after the Revolutionary War, but Jim was having a hard time concentrating—the room had begun to breathe. The walls expanded and contracted every few seconds, bending in the middle. Jim looked around to see if anyone else had noticed it happening. Of course not.

The teacher kept glancing back his way to see if he was paying attention so he was reluctant to close his eyes—then suddenly Jim noticed a young boy standing in the corner up front, between the teacher’s desk and the window. He must have just appeared because Jim hadn’t noticed him there before. The boy was much too young to be in middle school, and he was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt and a black tie, like an old-style school uniform.

The boy’s eyes focused on him, staring for maybe fifteen seconds without expression, and then his face and body started to blur. It was as if he was melting then stretching, growing taller, and then the boy was gone and a girl was standing in his place, also staring at him. The girl looked a little angry at first—and then afraid. The face and body and clothing all melted again, and now a boy his own age was there. The figures kept changing every five to ten seconds—a boy, then a girl, older, then younger. The figure finally settled on that of an older girl with long blonde hair. She was glaring at him, a blazing fury radiated from her eyes—they almost seemed to glow. She was older—old enough to be in high school. She raised one arm, her finger pointing at him, and her mouth started moving. She was saying something, her mouth formed into a snarl as she yelled, but he couldn’t hear her words.

A cold chill passed through him and he closed his eyes, as much to escape the terror he felt as to try and make the vision go away. This was something completely new. He’d never seen anything like this before—so many faces and so much fury on that one face. Jim hoped he was dreaming, or that this was in his imagination. When he opened his eyes again he was the one standing. Jim was beside his desk with his arm raised, pointing at the corner. The girl was no longer there, and the room was back to normal, no longer breathing.

Everyone in class was staring at him, even the teacher. Their eyes and mouths were wide open, afraid. The people sitting closest to him had moved their desks away from him, sliding them across the floor.

“Are you okay?” the teacher asked. Even the teacher’s voice was shaking and Jim saw him reach out to steady himself against the wall.

“Uh—yeah. Why?”

“You were saying some pretty, well … strange things just now. I didn’t hear everything, and some of it didn’t even sound like English. But I definitely heard the words ‘murder’ and ‘bastard’.” One of the boys who’d been nearby raised a hand. “Yes, Charlie,” the teacher said.

“He said ‘rape’, too, and something else … a lot of bad words, including the one that starts with an ‘F’.”

“I don’t remember that,” Jim said, letting his arm fall back to his side. His legs had started shaking. He tried to sit down but they gave out and he missed the chair, landing on the hard floor. Jim’s face and neck turned hot with embarrassment. He expected to hear the other kids laugh, but the room was quiet. When he looked up into the eyes of one girl, her body stiffened and she tried to move her desk even farther away.

The teacher was still staring at him, and seemed to be having trouble talking. When he did speak, he asked Jim if he was okay, again.

“Yeah. I’m … fine.”

The teacher sat down at his desk and wrote something on a notepad. He tore off the sheet of paper, put it into one of the large brown envelopes that sat on the corner of all teachers’ desks, and sealed it.

“I want you to go to the nurse’s office, right away. Take this to her. You can have your phone back now—forget about the principal’s office.”

Jim got up from the floor, his legs still shaking, and grabbed his backpack before walking to the front of the class. He stumbled once along the way. The desks ahead of him parted to make room as he approached. He took the envelope and phone from the table, noting that the teacher didn’t want to touch him. Once out in the hallway, he heard all the voices erupt in the class, even through the door. Everyone was talking, but after a few seconds the teacher yelled for quiet.

Despite his wobbly legs, Jim managed a more or less straight line down the hallway to the nurse’s office. He handed her the envelope with the note and explained why he’d been sent.

The nurse opened it and glanced at the message just as he collapsed into one of the chairs. She took his temperature, looked into his eyes, listened to his heart, and then asked him to follow one of her fingers as she moved it back and forth across his face.

“I don’t see anything obviously wrong with you, but the note says you don’t remember what happened.”

“I may have dozed off,” he said, but even he didn’t think he sounded convincing.

“Wait here,” she said, heading out the door toward the main office. “I’m sending you home. The secretary will call your mother to come get you.”

“I can walk—it’s not that far.”

“Maybe so, but you’re not walking today.”

Excerpt segments taken from BOSWORTH

Copyright Michael Selden 2017

BOSWORT is a finalist for the Colorado Author’s League (CAL) Writing Award in the Young Adult Category.

CAL is a membership organization for professional writers who live in Colorado, and is dedicated to improving writing skills.

CAL Web Site

BOSWORTH is a paranormal coming of age story set in the fictional town of Bosworth in Orange County NY, and the story takes place in the fall of 2015.

Over the course of the past 4 or 5 years I’ve tried all sorts of different approaches to increase readership. Virtually nothing has worked.

I’ve given books away using both read and review programs, as well as pure giveaways. One of my books was downloaded from Amazon over 12 thousand times, but I suspect that it was only read by a relative handful of folks, and the giveaway added zero sales.

Facebook and Twitter have been fairly useless as advertising media. Not only do they NOT add sales, they don’t really even generate website clicks.

Google AdWords will generate web clicks, and even sales, but the best I’ve ever done was $1 in royalties for $2 spent on ads, and that’s only around Christmas.

I’ve hired marketing firms twice (including a highly recommended one)——results: zero sales.

The read and review programs have been among the worst. On one program, people were cashing in the Amazon coupon I sent potential readers to buy other stuff.

There is no magic key. People don’t buy books because of ads or because someone writes a nice review (or even a bad review). I  decided to limit what I do when it comes to book marketing, cutting my marketing budget by 90%, and basically saw no change.

My suggestion: just write your books, as you normally would. Make sure you offer a quality product, use a good editor, designer, and proof reader and don’t worry about selling books.

For those who think they’ll make a lot of money writing . . . well, you could win the lottery—it’s got about the same probability.

I do think competitions help, but you need to carefully select which competitions you enter. If you’re a small publisher, generally librarians won’t bother to even read your books—good or bad, since they didn’t come from one of the big 5 they are ignored, so you won’t be considered for the mainstream awards. In the mainstream publishing world (at least for now) editors use agents as filters and publishers use agents and librarians use publishers. Competitions offer an alternative filtering system, but the industry has not yet settled on a new model.

On formats: I’ve put books out in paperback, hardcover, Kindle, and epub formats, as well as an audible book.  The epub book, which I offered through both Smashwords and KOBO was a mistake. As soon as I uploaded the book, one copy was bought and then was immediately pirated. The pirates made money on it—I didn’t. I no longer offer an epub format for my books.

I have heard that spending all day on social media pages can add sales. I haven’t seen evidence of this, but then I’m not really a social media butterfly, so take my opinion on this with a grain of salt.

One channel that (at least) offered a way to put your books into the hands of enthusiastic readers used to be GoodReads, but they decided to monetize their giveaway program to suck even more money from the pockets of writers, so I stopped using that channel.  That’s really a symptom of the big industry now, which is exploiting people who decide to try writing. There are tons of folks out there telling you how they’ll “help” you. They don’t.

Just write. But if you’re writing poor quality books then you’re just making matters worse—poor quality books are why people don’t take small publishers seriously. Use an established professional editor . . . please.

I’m running Amazon Kindle Countdown Specials on the following books, from Nov 26 to Dec 3——

United States, Amazon.com:
The Balance, Kindle Edition, is discounted from 2.99 to 99 cents
I AM Kindle Edition is discounted from 2.99 to 99 cents

United Kingdom, Amazon.co.UK:
The Balance Kindle Edition is discounted to 0.99 pounds
Bosworth Kindle Edition is discounted to 0.99 pounds
The Boy Who Ran Kindle Edition is discounted to 0.99 pounds

In the past, I experimented with a giveaway, but found that many, many copies were downloaded but never read. For me, this isn’t a money-making effort as much as an effort to get more people to read at least one of my books, as a sample. Keeping a minimum price (this is the least non-zero price I can charge at Amazon) at least ensures that those downloading the book may actually be interested in reading it.

All discounts Begin Nov 26 (Sunday) and end Dec 3 .
My author page at amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Selden/e/B00GSEBBDC/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1Pre-Christmas Kindle Edition Discount—Nov 26 to

In the book I AM, I was deliberately vague about details at the end of the story—much more so than normal. I wanted to challenge readers to think through what had happened and to apply their own interpretation of events in the story, but I’ve seen that my intent wasn’t well communicated. I wanted to correct this a bit, and so updated the epilog of the book to help readers understand what happened.

In a few days (or hours), the updated epilog will automatically appear in your copy the next time your kindle library is synchronized. Unfortunately, paperbacks are not updated this way, but with I AM, most copies in circulation are Kindle editions—about 12 thousand copies. For me, this is one of the great things about ebooks—correcting errors and updating books in circulation is easy to do.

As I write the second volume of The Balance, I though I might offer a gift to those who’ve supported me and have read The Balance

The Purge is a short story set 18 years, or so, before the story of The Balance picks up. It is best read by those who have read The Balance, since having an understanding of the characters and of the Land help you to to make sense of the story and you’ll enjoy it much more

I am posting the entire story as a pdf file on my web site:

Click here to open story of The Purge