Tag Archives: self publishing

Ask the Alien – Does this Appease You, Oh Mighty Potentate?

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By: Alien Jones, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Intergalactic Correspondent

Dearest Mighty Potentate,

Good day, oh Mightiest of Potentates!  May good fortunes flow through your ganderflazer and out your wizzamazoo.  May your empire stretch far and wide throughout the cosmos and may all hail the Mighty Potentate lest the grim fate of vaporization fall upon them like a dark cloud spreading over a misty valley.

Oh, Great Potent One, I am pleased to inform you that the chosen one, Bookshelf Q. Battler, has recently published a book on Amazon entitled, “Bookshelf Q. Battler’s Big Book of Badass Writing Prompts.”

At the time of this writing, BQB has given away seventy free copies and not all of those copies were downloaded by his beloved Aunt Gertie.  OK, sixty-nine were downloaded by Aunt Gertie and I downloaded one by accident while I was looking for a copy of “50 Shades of Gray” for purely scientific purposes, i.e. in furtherance of my studies into human mating habits.  Do you know that the more money the male of the species the more likely the female is to engage in degrading and even humiliating activities?  Fascinating.  If I had genitalia, I would be aroused.

But I digress.  Mighty Potentate, I beseech you to release me from my burden of being BQB’s advisor/protector.  Keeping this nerd safe is a daily grind, what with all of the zombies, werewolves, vampires, chupacabras and ill-tempered hipsters chasing him at all times.

Plus, I must say, and I rarely say complimentary things about BQB, but this book is not bad.  It contains 101 ideas to help writers write.  So, if this book doesn’t inspire the masses to drop the reality television that you despise so much, perhaps at the very least it will inspire a future author to write such a book…just as soon as someone who isn’t Aunt Gertie or yours truly downloads it.

In conclusion, please relieve me of BQB duty immediately so that I may pursue more interesting endeavors in the deep reaches of space.  Plus, I hear a new taco stand has opened up in the Gagalaga Quadrant.  I’d really like to hit that joint up.  I could even bring you back some space taco num nums, oh Great One.

Your Humble and Obedient Servant,

Alien Jones

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 93

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At the Swankforth Hotel in downtown Miami, professional spammer Ernie Beck was enjoying a tasty three cheese omelette as he listened to a speaker at the International Society of Junk E-Mail Senders.

Jason Newcomb, the President of the ISJES stood at a podium, lecturing the attendees on tried and true spamming techniques.

“I know folks,” Newcomb said. “It seems like a tired old cliche, but the Nigerian prince scam really works. You’d be surprised how many elderly white people are easily convinced that they are not only related to African royalty, but that turning over their bank account routing numbers to a total stranger in the hopes of procuring a hefty payout is a good idea.”

Justine Cosseau raised her hand.

“Yes,” Newcomb said. “Justine.”

“What about the boner pills scam?” Justine inquired. “I’ve found great success by convincing men that they can add ten inches or more to their length and that the ladies will love them.”

“It’s not bad,” Newcomb said. “But keep in mind you might actually have to mass produce some fake boner pills. That means outsourcing to a sweatshop full of third world child slaves who get whipped repeatedly while they manufacture sugar pills, put them into bottles and then ship them to men with inadequate boners. It’s a total hassle, whereas the Nigerian Prince scam requires very little overhead. All you need is a computer and the willingness to pretend that you are a representative of a Nigerian Prince who, for some inexplicable reason, is related to a plethora of doddering old American white ladies.”

Ernie put down his fork and chimed in. “People, am I crazy, or are we all forgetting about the old phish-a-roo? All you need to do is send someone a bogus e-mail designed to look like it’s from their bank. Write up a paragraph about how there was a security breach and the person needs to follow a link to put in their username and password and bam, you’ve got their dough.”

“My fellow spammers,” Newcomb said. “These are all wonderful spamming techniques and there’s a reason why they’ve been used for years – because they work. How you choose to fleece buffoons who don’t know the first thing about Internet safety is up to you as long as you’re doing it because, and let’s be honest here, if people are dumb enough to not protect their money, then they deserve to lose it and we deserve to take it.”

The ballroom erupted into a chorus of “Here, here!”

“Now,” Newcomb said. “Let’s break up into our brainstorming session groups and really focus on new ideas. I want to hear at least twenty new shakedown methods by noontime.”

The spammers milled about the room, discussing their preferred spamming methods, when suddenly, Beck’s stomach rumbled. There was something about his breakfast that wasn’t sitting well with him, so he made a beeline to the bathroom.

Beck walked into an empty stall, dropped his pants, and sat down on the toilet bowl. “Dang,” he said to himself. “With a hurricane coming and a toilet gator on the loose, I’m surprised they didn’t just cancel this thing.”

“We do not cancel,” came Newcomb’s voice from outside the stall. “We spammers are a proud lot. We may lie, cheat and steal but we never, ever, quit – hurricanes and toilet gators be damned.”

Newcomb entered the stall next to Beck.

“Breakfast got to you too?” Beck asked.

“Yeah,” Newcomb said. “I didn’t think my French toast tasted right.”

“Maybe the cook got cheated on boner pills,” Beck said.

“Justine and her stupid boner pills,” Newcomb said. “She’s such a one trick pony.”

Beck turned on his cell phone and began streaming NN1’s coverage of Hurricane Dakota Rothschild. A Hot Ass Blonde Chick was in downtown Miami holding onto a palm tree as an airborne car blew past her.

“Jason,” Beck said. “Maybe we really should postpone this thing.”

“Please,” Newcomb said. “You know the spammer’s code. Never give up. Never surrender. Always misspell all your spam e-mails so that the people who are defrauded by them end up looking that much dumber.”

“I guess,” Beck said. “But I just don’t want to be blown away by the wind or be eaten by a toilet gator. Is it even safe to be shitting right now?”

“Maybe not,” Newcomb said. “But I’m too proud to run around in one of those diapers.”

“Same here,” Beck said. “But I just…”

“ROAR!”

Skippy interrupted the conversation by bursting through the floor and crunching up the toilet with Beck still on it between his jaws. The walls and doors of every stall in the vicinity fell down, leaving Newcomb exposed and defenseless.

The alligator was feeling cocky and sure of himself, no longer concerned about hiding from humans. Convinced that he was invincible, he took his time as he crunched on what little remained of Beck.

Meanwhile, Beck’s phone, now lying on the floor, continued to stream NN1’s news coverage. Kurt Manley kicked it to a replay of Cole’s challenge to the alligator from the night before.

“You wouldn’t last three seconds against me, but if you want to prove me wrong, meet me in the men’s restroom of the Sitwell Park Mall and we’ll finish this once and for all. Man vs. Alligator, mano a mano, human vs. reptile combat. Fail to show, and I will return to the airwaves to tell the world that you are little more than a giant green pussy with teeth.”

Hearing this sent Skippy into a rage. He roared wildly, then turned and leered at Newcomb, who trembled as he remained still on the toilet with his pants around his ankles, completely petrified.

“Nice alligator,” Newcomb said. “Good boy. You wouldn’t eat a professional e-mail spammer, would you?”

 

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 90

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The gang gathered around Cole’s kitchen table, finalizing their plans for the next day as they stared at a map of Sitwell.

“Everyone know where they’re supposed to be?” Cole asked.

“Yeah,” Maude said. “I should be on a beach in Hawaii with a Mai Tai in my hand. I’m too old for this.”

Burt, though still a Grover County Sheriff’s deputy, had joined in. “Me too.”

“What if the gator doesn’t take the bait?” Rusty asked.

“I think he will,” Natalie said. “When this all began, Buford sent me a text that stuck with me. ‘I am not in control.’ I’m not sure he ever was.”

“The alligator sounded like he was the boss when I caught them arguing,” Rusty said.

“And I think the alligator was making him text me,” Natalie said. “He loves the limelight.”

“Shit,” Rusty said. “It’s the Kim Kardashian of alligators.”

“Animals get smarter with every generation,” Professor Lambert said. “And yet humans continue to be so arrogant as to assume we are the only intelligent life on earth.”

Moses chugged a beer and burped. “I don’t know about y’all but I think the most intelligent thing to do now is to get some sleep.”

“Agreed,” Cole said. “Everyone rest up. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

The gang milled about Cole’s house as Cole retired to his bedroom. He removed his pants, sat on the edge of his bed, then detached his prosthetic leg. He rubbed his stump and closed his eyes, only to open them when Sharon entered the room.

“Oh,” Cole said. “Sorry, I should take the couch and you can sleep in here.”

Sharon pressed her finger up to her lips. “Shh,” she said as she sat down next to her ex-husband.

Cole reached for his prosthetic only to have his hand pulled back by Sharon. “Leave it.”

“But I…”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Sharon said.

“It bothers me,” Cole replied.

“It shouldn’t,” Sharon said.
Sharon and Cole stared into each others’ eyes for a spell before they shared a deep, passionate kiss.

“We shouldn’t,” Cole said.

Sharon grabbed the back of Cole’s head and pulled it closer to hers. “We should.”

“No,” Cole said as he pulled back. “What’s done is done.”

Sharon sighed. “Why do you think I left you?”

“This isn’t the time to get into this,” Cole said.

“It’s the perfect time,” Sharon said. “If something happens to one of us tomorrow…”

“It won’t,” Cole said.

“But if it does…”

Cole flopped back on the bed. “Fine. What do you want me to say, Sharon? ‘I’m sorry I decided to be the big hero.’ Is that what you want me to say? Do you need me to say our divorce was my fault so you’ll feel better? Fine. It was my fault.”

“I never thought it was your fault,” Sharon said.

“It was,” Cole said. “You married a strapping young man and you didn’t sign on for a gimp with a fake leg. I put myself in danger. I got my leg bitten off by the dog from hell. You didn’t sign on to take care of a cripple for the rest of your life so the second you heard about what happened to me, you ran. I don’t blame you. I blame myself.”

“That’s what you think happened?” Sharon asked.

“I know it’s what happened,” Cole said.

“You don’t know anything,” Sharon said.

“I know had the situation been reversed I wouldn’t have left you,” Cole said. “You could have gotten mangled in a car accident and ended up as nothing more than a talking head and I would have stayed with you for the rest of your life.”

“That’s…gross…and sweet at the same time,” Sharon said. “But mostly gross.”

“I’d of put your head in a duffel bag,” Cole said. “Taken you on long walks across the beach, bought you fresh tomatoes at the farmer’s market.”

Sharon plopped back in the bed next to Cole. “Oh my God. It’s been so long since we’ve been to the farmer’s market.”

“I would have waxed your head,” Cole said. “Propped it up in front of the television…”
Sharon chuckled. “Stop.”

“I would have gotten your head a special pillow…”

Sharon turned serious. “Cole I didn’t leave you because you lost your leg. I didn’t even find out about it until a month later when I read about it in the newspaper – that story about the benefit that Sitwell PD threw to raise money for your medical bills. You ever wonder who donated that five grand?”

Cole’s eyes widened. “That was you? I always thought it was Chief Haskell.”

Sharon nodded.

“Whatever,” Cole said. “Like that makes things better.”

“I put in my application with the FBI during my first year in law school,” Sharon said. “I never heard back from them until a week before I left. They contacted me out of the blue and told me to report to Quantico for training and that there was an appointment to the Miami field office in store for me. I kept trying to work up the courage to tell you but I knew in my heart you love this stupid hillbilly town and there was no way you’d be happy in Miami.”

“Bullshit,” Cole said. “Even if that’s true, you had no right to make that decision for me. I would have followed you.”

“And you would have been miserable,” Sharon said.

“You don’t know that,” Cole said.

“I know it because I’m miserable,” Sharon said. “Bright lights. Big city. Adventure. Excitement. I thought I wanted it all, Cole, but now that I’m forty I’m…”

“Tired?” Cole asked.

“Tired as fuck,” Sharon answered. “I just want those days back where we used to wake up late on Sunday mornings and go to the farmer’s market to buy fresh tomatoes, blueberries, oranges, strawberries and shit.”

Cole laughed.

“I’m not joking,” Sharon said. “Every day I go to work and there’s a new disaster waiting for me. There’s a new killer on the loose, or some psychopath threatening to blow up a building with all the people inside, or a kidnapping, or a big bank heist. I go to sleep every night and dream about opening up our own booth at the farmer’s market like we talked about.”

“We said that we’d do that when we’re older,” Cole said.

Sharon rubbed her hand against Cole’s cheek. “Newsflash dummy. We’re older.”

Cole rolled over onto his side. “I’m sorry you feel bad about leaving. I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make you feel better, and I can say you shouldn’t have done it until I turn blue and pass out but that wouldn’t make me feel better.”

Sharon rolled over on her side and draped her arm over Cole, spooning him. Cole sighed. He enjoyed it but at the same time, he didn’t. He feared the excitement would fizzle and lead to nothing.

“There was another reason why I left,” Sharon said.

“Oh God,” Cole said. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“I can’t get pregnant,” Sharon blurted out.

Cole rolled over on his back and faced Sharon. “What?”

“I had a physical a month before I left,” Sharon said. “Turns out I can’t have children.”

“And,” Cole said. “So…what?”

“I knew you wanted children,” Sharon said. “Hell, I wanted children, but I knew you’d be disappointed.”

“I…I wouldn’t have…”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” Sharon said. “I felt like if I stayed I’d be holding you back. If I left, then I could be the bad guy in your mind and you’d be none the wiser. I assumed you’d bounce back quick and find someone else, someone who could give you what you wanted. I never knew you’d…”

“Wallow all alone in a cesspool of my own self-pity for a decade?” Cole asked.

“You said,” Sharon said. “Not me. Cole, you need to believe me, when I left that morning, I had no idea what was going to happen to you that day and after I found out I just…”

“What?” Cole asked.

“It didn’t change anything,” Sharon said. “I still wanted the fast paced FBI lifestyle. I still couldn’t have kids. I figured even without the leg you’d still have no trouble finding someone but…”

Cole brushed his hand through Sharon’s hair. “…but she wouldn’t have been you.”

On that note, Cole and Sharon embraced and kissed wildly, filling themselves up on what they had been missing out on for so long. Sharon removed her shirt and began unhooking her bra when Cole threw out a question. “What about Gordon?”

“What about him?” Sharon asked.

“Is it right for us to…you know…so soon after his death?” Cole asked.

“Why not?” Sharon asked.

“Because,” Cole said. “You know…you two were…”

“We were what?” Sharon asked.

“Intimate,” Cole said. “Why are you making me spell it out?”

Sharon laughed.

“Doesn’t seem like an appropriate thing to make light of,” Cole said.

“Cole,” Sharon said. “Gordon was gay.”

“What?” Cole asked.

“Gordon was gay,” Sharon repeated.

“What?” Cole asked. “No, but he was…”

“Doing naked pushups in the motel room?” Sharon asked. “Yeah, I know. One of his more disgusting habits but hell, he put up with me clipping my toenails and leaving the clippings everywhere. I always meant to pick up later then I’d always forget. He’d step on them, make a big deal out of it.”

“But the wine?” Cole asked.

“I like a little wine in the evening,” Sharon said. “Big deal.”

“You called him studmuffin,” Cole said.

“Because he had a suitor who used to call him studmuffin,” Sharon said. “He used to call Gordon ‘studmuffin’ in front of everyone. It became a nickname.”

“So you two weren’t…”

“No,” Sharon said. “I don’t know, Cole. You know how it is when you have a partner. Sooner or later you spend so much time together you just end up feeling comfortable doing everything and front of each other. You and Rusty are the same way.”

“I would pop a cap in Rusty’s ass if he ever did naked pushups in front of me,” Cole said.

“It’s 2017, Cole,” Sharon said. “Naked pushups are nothing to feel ashamed of anymore.”

Cole seized his love and kissed her. “Maybe it’s time for me to do some naked pushups…”
Sharon giggled. “Oh, Mr. Walker…I thought you’d never ask…”

Cole’s phone was on the nightstand. It began to ring. He grabbed it. “Hello?”

“Cole,” Rusty said. “Callin’ from the other room.”

“I’m busy,” Cole said.

“Yeah,” Rusty said. “Check it, man. I’ve been meaning to tell you, Gordon was gay. I think you’ve still got an in with Sharon.”

“Shut up, Rusty,” Cole said as he flipped his phone shut and hurled it to the floor.

Cole and Sharon engaged in some foreplay for a while before Cole spoke up. “Leg on or off?”

“Off,” Sharon said.

“Fine,” Cole said. “But either you’re going to have to get on top or we’re going to need a big mound of pillows to prop me up baby.”

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard,” Sharon said.

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My Book is Free This Weekend!

Hey 3.5 readers.

I know.  I’ve become “that guy.”

The guy that repeatedly tries to give away his book instead of coming up with something new and interesting to say.

I can’t help it.  I’m like a proud father and this book is my baby.  So, just reminding you all it is free this weekend – totally FREE, so download your copy today and check it out.

That’s it.  I’ll zip my lip about it for a while.  Well, I might remind you tomorrow, possibly Monday, but that’s it.  Scout’s honor.

DOWNLOAD MY BOOK FOR FREE!

Bookshelf Q battlers for Amazon

 

 

 

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BQB’s Book is Climbing the Charts!

Check it out, 3.5 readers:

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I’m #14 in the Top 100 Books in the Free Writing Skills Reference Category.

Can we drive this higher?  Bookshelf Q. Battler’s Big Book of Badass Writing Prompts is going to be free all weekend.  Why not grab a free copy, give it a badass review, and work on some of the prompts and share your results with your blog audience?

Tell your friends, social media followers, etc.

I’m not getting any younger people.  I know.  I read your blogs.  You’re all like “Oh la dee da I’m in the writing game for the artistic wonder of it all” and I’d like to say that in it for that but, you know, also…fame and fortune.  And parties in Malibu mansions filled with scantily clad women…parties that aren’t going to happen unless you download your free copy today.

3.5 READERS:  Oh, that’s awesome BQB.  We love you so much and we’re going to thank you for all the free entertainment you’ve provided for us over the years by downloading your book for free.

Thank you 3.5 readers.  I love you too.  Download my book for free here.

 

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Thank You Anita Lovett and Associates

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here again.

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The year was 2015.  My arch-nemesis, the International War Criminal/Incredibly Boring Snow Monster known as “The Yeti” scaled the walls of BQB HQ, infiltrated my security systems and took me hostage, vowing to only release me if I obtained a higher number of Twitter followers.

I don’t remember why the Yeti wanted me to get more Twitter followers.  He’s a yeti.  His brain is 95% hair.  Stop trying to make sense out of anything a yeti does.

At any rate, I put out a call for help, asking people to follow me @bookshelfbattle in order to release me from the Yeti’s vile clutches.

The only person to respond?  Anita Lovett of Anita Lovett and Associates.

That’s right.  The rest of you did literally nothing, nothing at all, and were completely content to allow your favorite blog host to remain a yeti captive until the end of time.

Anita, on the other hand, showed the requisite amount of concern that any human should show upon learning that another human has become a yeti captive and she tweeted a call for her followers to follow me.

Meanwhile, the rest of you watched TV and ate cheese doodles and did literally nothing while an incredibly boring snow monster just moved into BQB HQ and made himself at home.  Do you guys realize that furry SOB hasn’t even left yet?  That beast has been bogarting my Funions and my TV remote since the Obama administration.

Sadly, you will all bear this shame forever whereas I have asked Alien Jones to put Anita Lovett and Associates on the protected rolls so that they may be spared during the Mighty Potentate’s Earth invasion, which totally shouldn’t happen as I will no doubt put out many novels that will appease the Potent One but just in case, you never know.

Anyway, when I needed an editor for Bookshelf Q. Battler’s Big Book of Writing Prompts (available for free on Amazon through Monday, June 12) I instantly remembered how Anita came to my defense against the Yeti whereas the rest of you 3.5 readers failed me so, so miserably.  Seriously.  There are no words to describe how disappointed I am in all of you to this very day.

But I digress.  I don’t want to get into specifics, but I found Anita’s prices to be reasonable and in my opinion, she put more work in than the compensation she asked for.

Now, caveat, I obviously don’t speak for Anita so I can’t say she’ll do the same for you.  I mean, maybe she just did it for me because I’m so darn likable and charming and while I’m sure you all think you’re all likable and charming, it’s a lot to ask anyone to live up to the great example that I put out to the world on a daily basis.  I really am a bastion of humility.

Anita and Associates edited my book, went over it, making sure all the various grammatical rules were followed and so forth.  She made a number of suggestions about how to improve the content (i.e. the prompts themselves).  She even formatted it into a file so that all I had to do at the end of the process was load it up on Amazon.  That part I especially appreciated it as I am clueless when it comes to taking a written work and getting it ready for e-publishing.

Most importantly, she answered all my questions and I would add, she set deadlines and stuck to them.  If she said something would be done by X date, sure enough, I’d look in my inbox and find it was done by X date.

Will Anita go out of her way to help you like she did for me?  I mean, obviously I can’t guarantee that because I’m awesome and people like me and they like me so much that they tend to do backflips just to make me happy because, again, I’m so likable.

All I can say is that perhaps you should get in on the ground floor, drop her a line and see what she can do for you and your book before she becomes big and famous, forgets the little people, is able to charge zillions of dollars per hour and can’t return your phone calls because she’s too busy hob nobbing with James Patterson and Steven King and so forth.

Oh, and tell her to work on my stuff before your stuff.  I mean, I don’t want to brag, but I think Toilet Gator is really going to take the literary world by storm and I’m going to need her full and undivided attention on it.  I fully intend to hire Anita and her Associates to break out some flowcharts and protractors and engage in some serious mathematical equations just to see if my claims about the ability of a toilet gator to travel to various toilets within a given time frame are accurate.

You scoff but I’m already in talks with Matthew McConaughey and Dame Judi Dench to play the lead roles in the movie version…at least those people I met at the truck stop diner told me they were Matt and Judy.

(Note that’s just a joke and I’m sure she won’t put my stuff before your stuff but rather treats all her clients equally, even though my upcoming book, Toilet Gator, really is the best book ever written in the entire history of writing.)

Don’t forget to follow her on Twitter – @anitalovett

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BQB’s Big Book of Badass Writing Prompts – Free June 8 – June 12

That’s right, 3.5 readers.  You can save all 3.5 of your dollars, for my debut book, Bookshelf Q. Battler’s Big Book of Badass Writing Prompts is going to be free starting today, Thursday, June 8 all the way through Monday, June 12.

Save your money, or spend it on comic books, candy and whoopie cushions.  All I want is for all 3.5 of you to mosey on over to Amazon, download my book for free and if you like it, perhaps you’d be so kind as to leave a nice review.

If you don’t like it, did you know the Internet is full of cat videos?

Better yet, this book contains 101 Badass Writing Prompts plus a number of bonus sections.  If you’re stuck for your next topic to blog about, why not write a short story based on one of these fine prompts and share it with your 3.5 readers?

FREE people!  Absolutely free!  I’m Crazy BQB and my prices are so low I’m practically giving these e-books away!

Don’t forget I’m enrolled in Amazon KDP so if you have access to the Kindle lending library, then you’ll be able to get this fabulous book for free long after this promotion ends but seriously, why wait?  I’d tell you no one likes a procrastinator, but I’m just going to put that off and tell you tomorrow instead.

Bookshelf Q battlers for Amazon

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My Amazon Author Page

Behold, 3.5 readers:

BQB’s Amazon Author Page

By the way nerds, if you have access to the Kindle Lending Library you can read this for free.

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I’m Worried About My Sales

3.5 readers, BQB here.

I don’t mean to alarm you, but as we draw near to the end of the first day of my first book being available for purchase on Amazon, I’m growing increasingly concerned about my sales figures, which, as you can see by this handy chart, are non-existent:

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Fellow self-publishers, let’s have a rap session as they used to say in the 1970s.  What suggestions do you have for me, a first time self-publisher, to get my sales skyrocketing?

I mean, I know I’m supposed to manage my expectations, but I really thought I’d be in a Malibu beach house in a hot tub full of supermodels by now and yet I can barely afford a cold shower and a nudey magazine.

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My Book is Live!

Huzzah, 3.5 readers!

After all this time, my very first e-book is up on Amazon and available for purchase for the low, low price of $2.99.  How exciting.

Have you ever been the first person to do something?  No?  Well now is your chance to be one of the first people to buy this incredible book.  Go on.  Be one of the first people to download this bad boy and feel like Neil Armstrong must have felt when he walked on the moon for the first time.

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