Okay. So Path Of Night is the first book in a series, out through small press. My goal is to keep the series ticking over with a book every six months to a year (or thereabouts given a bit of time once the Masters degree is done) to raise a profile out there in author-land, and get a bit of momentum.
So far, I’m pretty happy with the way things are going. Initial reviews are positive — very nice one over here, as a matter of fact: Path Of Night Review. The reviewer clearly understands the nature of the book, and has enjoyed it, which always helps. There’s a bit of an interview from the same reviewer, as well.
The book itself is now no longer restricted to Kindle. The print format version is available on that same page for about $12 USD. I don’t think there’s much of a profit margin on that, but I’m not concerned there: the goal was always visibility, at this stage.
Smashwords has it too, now — lots of electronic formats there. Hopefully that will help out the folks who were looking for non-Kindle e-versions of the book.
Meanwhile, we’re having a launch here in Scottsdale tomorrow night. To be fair, it’s as much about showing off the young cover artist and his business as it is about the book itself. Probably moreso, in fact, since Scottsdale is a small town without a vast bookbuying population. But it should be fun, with wine and pizza and badges and stickers and posters and a reading, and a speech from the mayor…
So, what next? Well, on Sunday I’ll be in Melbourne, attending a class with none other than Cory Doctorow. The class is focused on digital fiction, and I’m assuming distribution and promotion are a major part of that. Good timing. The redoubtable Tehani of Fablecroft tells me I have to give Mr Doctorow a copy of the book. She’s almost certainly right… but that’s going to take a little chutzpah on my part. And for those of you wondering why the hell I’m concerned about chutzpah, let me admit a personal weakness: I’m shite with compliments, and very poor at self-promotion.
It probably comes from growing up in Far North Queensland, in the boondocks. Up there, you didn’t talk about how good you were unless you were a bit of a wanker. What you did — at least, what the people I admired did — was quietly get on with the job, finish it in one go while the talkers were still blowing beer froth off their moustaches.
It’s hard to get over something like that. There’s a part of me that equates self-promotion and marketing with empty braggadocio. I really want to just disappear, go back into the woodwork, and write the next book in double time.
It’s a new world. It doesn’t work like that any more.
I’d better learn, eh?