Hens Lay Eggs

food for thought

Great expectations

I received a message over the weekend—you know, those two days during which most folks do not focus on career-related work—from someone who asked to hire me to edit his manuscript then market the book. How flattering!

I declined the opportunity.

First, the potential client did not do his research and, at a minimum, check out my website or LinkedIn profile. I do not provide book marketing services. I never have.

Second, the potential client requested those services at a “highly professional level” in exchange for 20% of the royalties earned from future book sales. I don’t know a single professional, including myself, who will work for the promise of potential money. That’s called “working on spec.”

Any book published today must compete against millions—yes, millions—of books in the marketplace. Amazon alone lists more than 1 million books in its digital library. That means any book must have two of the three—a name brand author (e.g., Stephen King, Nora Roberts), a strategic marketing effort, a robust marketing budget—to stand out from the overwhelming competition. That marketing effort takes strategy, rigorous execution, and money. Marketing can only build awareness and, at the very best, generate demand. It cannot force people to buy. The speculative nature of marketing means that those who are expert at it deserve and should receive compensation regardless of whether the book actually achieves commercial success.

Traditional publishing companies publish on spec. Because no business stays in business for long if it can’t make a profit, traditional publishing companies only accept and publish those manuscripts they believe will generate profits for them. To produce books, publishers pay a cadre of professionals: editors, book designers, cover artists, etc. Those professionals don’t work on spec; they receive salaries and benefits whether the books the company produces sell or not. This continuous outlay of funds and the assumption of financial risk is why traditional publishing companies pay only a small percentage of royalties to authors.

When an author decides to self-publish, the author is the publisher and assumes all financial risk and hires the professionals needed to produce the quality product the reading public expects and deserves. This means the professionals that author hires expect and deserve to be paid for services rendered. They do not work on spec.

My basic thought is that if an author is not willing to invest his or her funds into the book, then the author should not expect readers to invest their hard-earned money into buying those books.

I realize that many authors do not have the budget to afford the expenses of editing, book design, and cover design on a whim. Many folks save to afford large purchases such as houses, cars, large appliances, and vacation journeys. Hiring professional services is no different. A savvy author knows those expenses are coming and saves up for them.

Publishing is a business. The professionals who work in the business, whether as employees of publishing companies or as freelance gig workers, expect and deserve payment for services rendered, not the promise of potential payment.

#henhousepublishing #freelanceservices #gigeconomy #editingservices #bookdesign #ghostwriting

Racing to the wire

Every really successful author, those who publish via traditional means and those who self-publish, rely on a team to produce quality books. In pursuit of those same goals for success, I can do no less. That means, even though I am not obligated to any traditional publisher’s contract or deadlines, I do have deadlines.

Calculating deadlines is an exercise in counting backward.

If I want to publish by a certain date, then my marketing team needs at least six weeks prior to the date of release to do their job of building interest in the upcoming book.

If I want to publish by a certain date, then my editor needs time to perform two rounds of editing, with additional time after each round for me to review all her recommended corrections, suggestions, and changes and take action. The action I take includes accepting a change, rejecting a change, or revising the content.

How long the editor needs depends much upon the quality of the manuscript I send to her and the length of that manuscript. Editing takes time. I know this because I edit for other authors.

Not only does my marketing team need clean copies of the manscript and formatted copies of the manuscript, but they also need back cover copy and a synopsis. Those take time to write, too.

Formatting is necessary for correct sizing of the book’s cover. If all you’re doing is creating art for the front cover, then no such coordination is truly necessary, unless the image’s proportions are totally out of whack with the book’s trim size. The number of pages in the book determines the dimensions of the book’s spine which affects the dimensions of a full cover. Also affecting the number of pages beyond the word count are the fonts used, the font sizes, paragraph leading, margin widths, spacing between headings and text, and, if applicable, any images. Image dimensions, placement, size, padding, and captions all affect the flow of text and the book’s page count.

There’s a lot to consider and organize just to publish a single book, especially if you’re publishing in both print and e-book formats.

So, while I’m finishing up my next release this week, Single Stroke won’t be ready for public consumption until the end of December. The manuscript goes to the editor next week. By the first week of November, I’ll be sending the synopsis and draft cover copy to the marketing team. They’ll finesse the cover copy, as copywriting has a different purpose than content writing and is not my forte.

So, when it comes to authors who tread the path of self-publishing, the question arises: How much should I do? The answer is to do what you can to a professional level and hire the services you cannot do at that level or do not want to do at all.

Readers deserve no less.

#hollybargobooks #henhousepublishing #fictionwriting #storytelling #selfpublishing

The end of an era

Human life is filled with milestones. Some are arbitrary, like turning a certain age significant to our culture. Some are personal and mean little to anyone else, but common enough that others can relate to to them.

This week, my family experienced the end of an era. Sparky died.

Sparky (a.k.a. Sparks or Sparkles or Sparky-doodle) came into our lives when my son Brian was in kindergarten. My husband took Brian and his brother, Matthew, to the county dog pound and let them each pick out a kitten. Matt brought home a small gray kitten he named Tiger. Brian picked out a beaiutfil, lilac point, Siamese-type kitten. We learned then that it’s best to get kittens in pairs, because they play with each other.

Tiger passed away when he was seven. Matt died when he was 24. Brian and Sparky hit their 24th and 19th birthdays respectively this year. Nineteen is really old for a cat, although I’ve seen and heard about older cats.

Sparky raised many of our other cats. He served as “good old Uncle Sparky” to Guido, Sally, Brutus, and Alice. Guido was good enough to take over kitten rearing for Muffin who then assumed the “uncle” mantle for Cooper. (Guido, by the way, is a jerk. Muffin and Cooper are obnoxious, too.)

When Sparky moved permanently into the kitchen and became the “kitchen kitty,” his small world became much smaller. Whether he’d had a stroke or was simply going senile, he’d get lost if he wandered beyond the kitchen. He stuck to familiar territory, mapping out a path to the litter box and a path to the sink. He refused to drink water from a bowl; so we learned to turn on the faucet and leave it at a thin trickle so he could drink. When he was hungry, he’d yowl. Loudly.

When he was about 14 year old, I began feeding him canned cat food to supplement his lifetime diety of dry kibble. He was picky. Not only did he have firm preferences with regard to dry cat food, but we learned to cater to his wet cat food preferences. He would only eat pate. Not morsels, shreds, or any other consistency. He only liked certain brands; luckily for us, the cheaper brands sufficed. He only liked certain flavors: some he consistently disliked and others he disliked only sometimes. Until lately, he’d still snack on dry cat food. Amazingly, he still had all his teeth.

Making the decision to end a pet’s life is never easy. It hurts. However, Sparky had been on the decline for years. His beautiful blue eyes deteriorated first, a holdover from his Siamese heritage. Then his body weakened and his balance worsened. Several months ago he stopped using the litter box. Last week he lost the strength and coordination to walk. Over the weekend, he lost interest in food and water, but not affection.

I decided it was time to say goodbye and let him go gently into that good night. (Apologies to Bob Dylan.)

Sparky was the last pet remaining from my childrens’ childhood. We have other pets, but none go back as far in our family’s memory as this gentle old cat.

Good-bye, old buddy. You will be missed.

Author

Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.

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Karen (Holly)

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