Tag Archives: self-publishing

ISBNs, bar codes, and sneakers

Solomon seal emerging.

Bleeding heart nodding with fuscia flowers.

A luminous volunteer.

We enjoyed the patio a bit this morning even though it was chilly.

Today my husband and I employed the body double system to get two publishing-related administrative tasks done. Sometimes I was the body double and my husband the doer and sometimes the reverse. Mostly Ken was the doer. (There! That’s my husband’s name). Both tasks involved wrangling with passwords which generally sends me screaming from the room. Literally. So the system was necessary.

And how nice — my book is now officially copyrighted and listed in the Library of Congress!

(Not strictly necessary but felt prudent). And amazing.

Then later, we headed over to the website Bowker where they sell ISBNs and bar codes. I bought ten of the former and two of the latter.

The publisher I’m thinking of going with (D2D) provides free ISBNs but then they are the holder of record instead of me. Though it is perhaps without consequence, I don’t like that idea.

I bought ten because each format needs its own number (one for paperback, one for hardback, and one for epub) and once you get to three, the bulk price of ten is cheaper. (BTW, if you only published an ebook, you wouldn’t need an ISBN at all).

And anyway, those extra numbers feel like cheerleaders rallying me to write another book.

In other big news, I spent an obscene amount of money on a pair of New Balance Fresh Foam X 1080’s — had a fit consult and everything. They are like walking on marshmallows!

Who is this person taking care of herself? Spending money on herself?

It feels good. And anyway, the PT told me to do it.

A brand new fucking glitch on WordPress is not inserting a space between pics. So get used to captions! I had spaces between photos since 2008 and now — PooF! — not.

More rain

There are so many things I am struggling to figure out. Like why when I write up a long WordPress post on my laptop, many of the blocks do not then “read” on my phone. Or why Instagram disappeared on my blog and reinstalling the widget doesn’t seem to work. Or why installing a newsletter subscribe button seems to require that I learn how to code.

On a more existential level, this self-publishing path is rocky, steep, and arid. It seems like every time I get moderately excited about a possible hybrid publisher, I go to their reviews and find comments like, “RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN IN THE OTHER DIRECTION,” “they don’t care about authors,” “they missed every deadline and made me wrong about it.” You get the picture. Complaints about unpaid royalties, abysmal customer service, shitty print versions, and so on.

I’ll get there but it’s daunting, particularly since there really isn’t much incentive here ($1.05 royalty on a paperback. 76 cents on ebook?) A break even situation? (not real numbers but you get the idea).

Meanwhile, with the relentless rain it’s occurred to me that New England is turning into the Pacific Northwest.

Masks. Speaking of four years ago…

I dreamt about a cathedral quilt, a construction style I’ve never attempted, and have since been thinking about how blankets = home = sacred space.

Mood

Thread snap and ISBNs

Leftovers. I excluded a pieced strip from the recently-made baby blanket (8” along the bottom in the photo above), because it made that quilt too big. Since I had all the coordinating fabrics still in a pile, I decided to keep going and make the household a couch throw (laid out above).

I started merrily along. Ran out of bobbin thread. Wound a new one. Put it in. It fell out. Put it back in. It fell out again. Really snapped the bobbin case into place (thought I had the previous times?) and the thread broke after an inch of stitching. One, two, three times — starting a seam, breaking thread.

Walked away. Frustrating. Never mind that this is the very problem I just paid decent money to have remedied.

Once a piecing rhythm got going two weeks ago a small quiet part of me thought, “Oh. The machine was acting out because I’d been ignoring it.”

(I’ll examine tension today. It’s not the tension).

It’s sunny today! In the thirties, but sunny. There’s been a lot of rain.

I have been researching self-publishing with some regular and dedicated attention and trying not to let the sense of overwhelm get the better of me.

A few random snippets: ** decided to wait on the purchase of ISBNs until I have a price so I can order the bar code at the same time ** revised acknowledgements ** fixed four typos (FOUR!) that a recent reader spotted ** removed footer from doc ** read about a handful more formatting/distribution companies ** mulled over the book’s title some more ** revised my FB page so I can start posting novel morsels, etc. there and it won’t look totally out of place ** wrote a new ABOUT PAGE for website (in third person like they say to) ** started to learn about how Amazon ranks books and the categories that would apply to mine ** made an excel file of blog subscriber emails ** collected book covers I like that are in my genre (no gowned woman facing the horizon please!).

Etc.

The main reason I bore you with these details is not so much to share my “self-publishing journey,” but to say there’s a reason I’ve been quiet here and not quite keeping up with other blogs.

After sharing of a few more of this week’s Paris Collage Club digital collages, I’ll end with a humorous screen shot, a sentiment most recently brought on by the thought of trump receiving intelligence briefings as soon as his nomination is official.*

* John Brennan, former Director of the CIA, addressed this on Deadline Whitehouse this week. He said he trusts intelligence professionals to share summaries. No sources and methods. Nothing highly classified.

Mid-Jan pacing

We got a little snow — about an inch? It’s raining now.

Writing groups are back at it. And, the efforts toward self-publishing are beginning to cohere (open tabs on my laptop, a dedicated notebook, an accountability friend).

Yesterday I looked through my Amazon history to see when I ordered Eliza Lucas Pinckney’s letters. I started writing scenes featuring her right after that. The year: 2011. Thirteen years ago. It’s been thirteen years since I started this book.

Notes on self-publishing

Coming to terms with the idea that breaking even is a pretty good result. I never thought my writing would make me rich or anything, but really?

Next up: find three blurb writers, get a decent head shot (gonna be difficult with this flipper in my mouth), write two-sentence elevator pitch, and draft a page of acknowledgements.