I was working on this site recently when I had a bit of a revelation: the people who read a book all of the way to the end are precisely the people most motivated to review, FB-post, Tweet, Pin, etc. about it, thus sharing their experience with their friends, a group of people who may never have heard of your book, but who will take seriously a mention by your reader.
Better than any advertising you could pay for!
And web sites have been taking advantage of this truth for years — which has led to the ubiquitous bars of buttons that make it as easy as possible to share a web page (or product or…) with your nearest and dearest.
My revelation was that, since an ebook is merely a highly specialized web page, I should include a set of just those sorts of links at the end of each book: links to review the book on the bookseller’s site, on Goodreads, or on my own site, or to post something about the book to Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest.
So, the Kindle app for Windows 8 doesn’t seem to accept “personal” documents. That includes the PDFs and such that one can read on other Kindle platforms; it also includes .mobi files sold through retailers other than Amazon.
Bug or feature?
If a bug, how badly do we want them to fix it?
If a “feature,” do we think that we’ll see it spread to other Kindle platforms? And how can we discourage that?
I’m a little worried — as someone who sells Kindle-compatible .mobi ebooks on other sites (including my own) — that our monopolistic friends are closing the sandbox.
Anyone else have any thoughts?
ETA: Apparently, it’s a “feature.” Kindle for Windows 8 is based on the Amazon Cloud Reader — no local storage, and also no “personal documents.” So no Smashwords (or Stillpoint) downloads, for example.
After I wrote recently about why self-publishers need to use professional editors, a number of folks emailed and commented, asking just how much such an endeavor would cost. It was a tough question to answer — I know what I would charge for many services, but it’s difficult to say what the market cost might be, especially for services that I myself don’t regularly provide. Understandably, some correspondents were anxious, wondering if they should jump in, not knowing what the whole process might cost.
This week on PBS.org, Miral Sattar, CEO of the publishing-services marketplace site BiblioCrunch, posted what I found to be a quite thorough rundown of what it might cost to put a self-published book through as professional as possible a publishing process.
She posited a fairly typical book, weighing in at around 70,000 words. She made no further stipulations — fiction vs. non-fiction, for example, or thoroughly workshopped, researched, and rewritten (I was obsessed about the need to rewrite my essay as a student, still remember) vs. hastely pulled together. The style, genre, and initial quality of the prose do make a huge difference in terms of the kind and amount of editorial work that needs to be done, obviously. Ms. Sattar was trying to explore a median case.
She based her standards and pricing on the Editorial Freelancers Association’s posted rate sheet, which is as close to an industry standard as exists.
Here in brief is Sattar’s rundown (each entry has a low and a high end estimate):
As National Poetry Month comes to a close, Stillpoint Digital is proud to be able to announce that we are partnering with poetry collective Sixteen Rivers Press. Not only will we create ebooks with them, but Stillpoint will serve as their online store and distributor. 100% of all Sixteen Rivers net sales will be paid to the award-winning collective. It seems appropriate to us, as a company whose name is drawn from a T.S. Eliot poem! Continue reading Stillpoint Partners with Sixteen Rivers Press→
Whether I’m flipping paper pages, scanning through an ebook, listening to an audiobook or reading into a mic, reading a book is reading a book. Or is it?
As much as anyone, I live through words. I’ve been a professional actor. I’ve edited books. I’ve written them. I’ve narrated audiobooks. I’ve designed ebooks. It would be reasonable to say my life centers around words — that my life centers around reading.
But what does that mean?
My earliest memories have to do with books: being read to by my parents, reading along to picture books narrated on scratchy 45s, hiding under my covers with a flashlight and The Hobbit or Encyclopedia Brown. Many of my dearest adult memories are book related: reading the same copy of Ender’s Game side-by-side with my soon-to-be-wife; reading Where the Wild Things Are to my first-born and realizing that I remembered every word, having not seen the book in twenty-five years; reading all seven of the Harry Potter books (and many others) aloud to each of my daughters.