It looks like an author would have to sell at least 500 EUR of product or subscriptions per year to make a webstore worthwhile, but if a group of authors with similar audiences teamed up.. how would such authors find one another?
I was told that the Amazon POD prices are too high for India, so I looked into POD prices at pothi, an Indian POD company and for a book that Amazon charges 5.50 to print, they will do in bulk for <1.60 and individually for 3.20. For authors who want to sell to Indians through a webstore, this is important info. It might also be a good way to improve margins when selling locally.
Watching the OA is very strange for me because of all of the thematic overlaps with the story I wrote 2 years ago. You have "the Echo", the scientist/lab enslaving young people, and the one who breaks them free. Instead of a house, my story centers around a machine. Same story outline in many ways. Odd synergy. It is almost as though ideas float on the wind.
Last night, I dreamed (oh, source of my fictions) that my imaginary boyfriend lost interest in me. Mid-life hormonal shifts are causing him to question his gender identity and he is infatuated with a beautiful, genius, six-foot-tall trans woman he saw on the internet. How can I compete with that? I must triangulate and make him jealous before I lose him forever! #howfictionisborn
Novelist housewives are nobodies and I like that identity, but sometimes everything starts to push - wake up, be somebody, join someone's team, build their dream, re-engage, feel shame, exit the safe space between faith and delusion. After two rejections in one day, I feel like the universe just shouted,
I just watched a wrenching scene from Sophie's Choice and added 20k words to my 100k novel so that it can be cleanly split into two novels of equal length. This also allowed the novel to be directly connected to a collection of short stories. My head is throbbing, even though I've had coffee and do not have a virus. Is this what constructing a tragedy does to the body? I'm a spider caught in my own web.
On Quora yesterday, I caught the attention of 40k teens from India, but I don't know how to hold it. They are extremely interested in what 'foreigners' think about India's education system. If I were smarter and more ruthless, I would find a way to convince them that my books answer their questions. I'm feeling rather stupid, though. Thinking about this makes me tired.
Question: I've heard tales of a woman who wrote about a world in which mice were the smartest creatures on the planet and it had several other themes which Douglas Adams used in his famous book. I can't find her name via google. Do any of you know it?
The earliest science fiction novel was not written by Voltaire, Margaret Cavendish, or even Johannes Kepler (1600 AD). It was written in 200 AD by someone named Lucian. It features robots, space travel, alien lifeforms, and interplanetary warfare. It was written as a satire of supposedly historical writings. A True Story - Wikipedia
A good day. Someone translated some of my Quora answers into Spanish and 3 agents liked my pitches on Twitter. A hilarious day: My daughter painted a mural on her wall. Sweat Dreams? English is her second language. A bad day: She didn't put the lid back on the paint properly and when I picked up the bucket, I dropped it. A typical day: pizza
If you want to shatter your understanding of your world, just watch Pup Stars on Netflix and let the singing dogs melt your mind beyond salvation. My daughter is singing along with a rapping Yorkie dog and my brain is broken. My eyes literally hurt and I don't want to open them again.
My mind has been hijacked by Netflix and I now have two imaginary boyfriends duking it out: the murderous stalker from ‘You’ and the jealous pageant coach from ‘Insatiable’. I actually prefer the stalker in theory, but in practice, since I don’t have a death wish, the pageant coach’s inaccessibility makes him much more my style. I’m drawn to deep weakness. How fiction is born: thesis, antithesis, synthesis.
I've set aside fiction to work on my non-fiction, turning my brain off and ordering the 400 pages I've written over the past year and a half. All I have to do is sort it, stitch it, decorate it, and weave in a running theme to give it structure. I'm 200 pages in and still have faith that this will be readable! Ha. Did I mention that many of the 400 pages sound maniacal? Meh. I can always tone it down. This will work.
We've just adopted a little tomcat, 12 weeks old, and our dog is spending every waking moment staring at this creature with such intensity that my head is threatening to explode. I'm absorbing our dog's anxiety and the kids have gone similarly nuts. They've even started waking up early to do their chores, just so that they can spend an extra five minutes staring at the kitten. This situation is not fostering writing.