You can’t really put a price on a feeling like that... which is just as well because I dread to think how much my hobby has cost over the past few years. Trust me, it’s an awful lot of time and effort for what ends up being less than no financial return.
But not to worry; I didn’t start writing to become rich and famous – rich would have been enough – and I fully intend to plod along in the hope that one day my slightly off-beat writing style might be spotted (and appreciated) by someone willing to take a punt on a ageing author.
What has become clear is that using a print-to-order website is fine as far as book quality is concerned, the cost of postage and packing effective makes individual orders prohibitive and whilst I’ve tried to cover some of the outlay by offering the books via my web site (the domain name was yet more expense...), you would probably laugh if I told you that the number of orders in two months amounts to... one.
It’s not exactly soul-destroying, but it’s pretty bloody close.
I’ve sent off a few e-mails to publishers to see what other avenues there are to explore; the answer appears to be plenty providing you’re willing to shell out upwards of £700... which (for very good reasons) I’m not... Most of those reasons include the word “skint”.
So I am left with three options: do what I’m doing and accept that I’ll pay for the privilege; stop writing... or at least stop selling... and thirdly, hope and pray for the bit of luck that I’d like to think I deserve. For the record, Desperately Seeking Susan Foreman... the“revised” edition is just about finished. It’s a decent little read though I say so myself; I suppose it’s unlikely to be taking up any shelf space in your nearest WH Smith... but it would be great to be proved wrong!