For any indie authors reading this, you know that paperback sales don’t nearly equal those of e-book sales. Today, however, I woke up to a set of sales of paperbacks. Several different titles all sent out at the same time, making me think that probably one person bought them all. That made me smile, then got me thinking… Why do paperback sales seem to have a little extra meaning to me?
I came to the conclusion that it’s because of my minor obsession with books. Yes, yes, I know… I’m an author and so it makes sense I’m obsessed with books, but it’s more than that. My prized possession is a 1903 set of Edgar Allen Poe books. There are five in the series. I also have an anthology of ghost stories printed in the early 1900s (I’m not currently at my house where my book is so I can’t look). There are others, all from the late 1800s to early 1900s. I love these. I love them not only because of the stories inside them, but because of the smell and the feel and the essence of them. I love rubbing my hand over the cover and thinking about the people who might have owned them previously. Although, I’m pretty careful to make sure my hands are clean and then I low-key stress out about the oils from my fingers damaging my beautiful books. I’m rolling my eyes at myself right now.
But when I see the paperback sales come through, especially with my new title because I’m so incredibly proud of it (shameless plug: Buy Nihil Aeternum HERE), I get almost giddy knowing that my printed books will be out in the world. I love the idea that twenty years from now someone will come across the book in a second hand store, looking at the pages that were (hopefully?) well loved by the previous owners. I love the idea that someone will come along and discover the story. Yes, in this scenario, I make nothing. It’s not about that (though, if we’re being honest, paperbacks pay better for indie authors). I would be lying if I said I don’t care about the money. Of course I do. HAHA I want to be able to write full time and teach for fun instead of teaching in search of a paycheck. I’m fairly certain that, at this point, there’s no way I’d give up my classes. My students are my kids now and I love them too much to not do the classes. I feel like I learn as much from them as they do from me.
But I digress… I don’t know why I felt like I needed to write this other than outing my low-key obsession. There’s a particularly awesome store on the other side of town where I’ve found most of the awesome old books I own. If you’re anywhere in Colorado, it’s worth stopping in Aurora to go to the Learned Lemur (check them out HERE). It’s an antique store, but they have a book room and books spread throughout and some AWESOME skeletons and such.
Thank you to the awesome reader that bought three of my titles this morning and got me thinking about all this. Now, it’s time for me to go read 😉