Experimenting with Paperbacks, Round Two

Since removing my paperbacks from Amazon, I’ve had excellent sales at the local bookstore, but only one paperback sale through my web site. This makes sense. Buyers of physical books do much of their discovery by browsing shelves.

So, I’ve been thinking about the tourists who picked up book one, The Calling, at Black Cat Books and Coffee. If they want book two, Shaman’s Blues, will they look at the end matter, find my web site, notice the “buy paperbacks direct” link, and order from me? Will they remember the name of the bookstore and look up its contact information and order from them? More likely, they’ll look on Amazon and not find a paperback. Maybe they’ll buy the eBook, but probably not, if they’re the type of reader who likes to hold what they call “ a real book.”

My plan was to eventually republish the paperbacks with Ingram, Lulu, or Draft2Digital, but the prices on any of them would have put my books out of range for the average book buyer. Paper is expensive stuff. My books are longer than average, which obviously means more paper, and with the books going through a distributor, the prices increase. Will readers spend twenty-four dollars for a paperback? The same book published through KDP print can be priced six dollars lower. Despite my reluctance to drive business to this company, my ultimate goal is to make books available and affordable to those who want them.

I risk Amazon once again discounting the paperbacks to the point that I lose money on eBooks with their “price match” game. But I also risk losing readers who want the rest of the series in paperback after they passed through Truth or Consequences on vacation. The readers win.

I’m republishing on Amazon. I’ve also made the books available for expanded distribution, meaning other online stores may carry them if they chose. If you want to support small business, you can buy paperbacks for a slightly lower price from me or from Black Cat.

Indirect Effects: The Beauty of the Partial Eclipse

Seventy-six percent eclipsed, the New Mexico sun was still bright. Of course, I didn’t look at it, but the blue-skied day seemed to have barely dimmed at all. I went as I do every Monday to teach an outdoor yoga class. The garden around the patio where we practice is carpeted with the blooming succulents in pink, red, and orange. Class is ordinarily accompanied by the gentle drone of bees. But the ice plants had closed their flowers tight, and not a single bee lingered. A sudden cold breeze came up.

As the hour-long class progressed, warmth returned. At the end, I guided deep relaxation and then sat in silence, focusing on a single flower to see if I could detect its petals opening. I couldn’t. Yet when I looked away and glanced back few seconds later, the petals’ position had subtly changed.

After class, I watered the fruit trees in the garden. The ice plant flowers were wide open, their yellow centers shining back at the sun, welcoming the bees.