Good morning everyone! For those of you here to read about the squirrels, please skip to the last paragraph.
For everyone else, I have good news. After a lot of blood, sweat, tears and other unnamed fluids I am pleased to announce that, barring catastrophe, Sex Bunker Apocalypse has been approved for sale by Amazon. I got the little emails this morning about the Ebooks! It’s all very exciting. The third book, Handcuffed to Never, will hopefully be approved this morning. In a few days I’ll link you to where you can pre-order both the Ebooks and also the paperbacks, should you prefer (as I do) holding the story in your hand (and if Amazon allows the paperbacks to be published – the monopoly can be a fickle beast).
A word on price – I am charging literally as little as possible for the paperbacks. Amazon takes a cut and takes another cut for printing “on demand” which I find acceptable. This means you may see some variance in paperback price. It has everything to do with page count and my desire to have the physical novel cost as little as possible. The first Ebook is priced competitively at 2.99, and the second and third Ebooks in the trilogy are priced at 4.99. Of that I get about 70%. If I’m going to ask you all for money, I want to be very upfront about why I’ve priced things the way I have.
If the books make any money at all, I intend to continue releasing them, at the same price point. I’m sitting on two manuscripts that are related to Sex Bunker Apocalypse’s wider world – one set in Boston, before the Storms, and another set far in the future – but one of many lessons I have learned in self-publishing research is to give the readers what they want, and I am not sure people want these far-reaching tales just yet. One assumes, perhaps optimistically, that if you read the trilogy you’ll want more about it. I sincerely hope this to be the case. If you’re looking forward to more SBA, I can promise you that the next novel will be about London.
Don’t know who London is? Don’t worry, that’s normal. You’ll find out.
More as things develop. Love to you all.
Are you still here? You’ll be here for the squirrels, then. So we left our pumpkin out until late December. It was clearly made of superior New England stock, a good stout Yankee pumpkin given to the household by my father, who grows them in his back field. On my afternoon walks I saw a growing collection of exploratory toothmarks, but Nigel and his friends (all named Nigel, all squirrels have only one name, not being particularly clever) couldn’t get a good handle on the enormous vegetable. Then one morning I found they’d pushed it off the steps, rolled it down the slope of my driveway and managed to get the thing hit by a car. No squirrels, I am assured, were harmed in this daring feat. The rest of the pumpkin has since been hauled off into the woods and devoured.
Happy Writing,
Adam
