A Wee Tale About A Wee E-Book ...
I thought about becoming a pastry chef, but a couple of days spent in a professional kitchen cured me of that notion. And I thought about opening a bakery, but I really don't want to have to bake every day.
But I wrote. And I baked. And I shared what I baked. And one day, one of my editors asked me to write a holiday-cookie story. So I did. She dubbed me The Cookie Queen. Which is why my other blog,
And then, last year, I thought it might be fun to publish a little something related to cookies.
A year ago today, December 9, though Amazon lists the publication date as December 8.
I've joked with folks that my wee e-book – or wee-book, if you will – has earned me tens of dollars. (So much for self-publishing being my path to fame and fortune.)
But this morning, on the anniversary of its publication, I took the time to call up each month's royalty report so I could add up the past year's sales.
The grand total, to date?
I love that number. I love it because it is, indeed, tens of dollars.
But I also love it, truly, because it's seventy-four dollars and forty-one cents that I earned from something I wrote and put into the world.
Not a freelance assignment (which pay far better). Not a blog post (which pays nothing at all).
But evidence that I can, indeed, sit at this machine and clack words onto a virtual page and package them in some form and some people – some of whom aren't even related to me or counted among my very dear friends – will happen upon it and plunk down two dollars and ninety-nine cents.
And a month or so later, Amazon will transfer a royalty payment into my checking account.
Very small royalty payments.
But royalty payments nonetheless.
And if I earn small royalties, perhaps one day, I will earn slightly larger royalties. Or even much bigger royalties. Perhaps royalties large enough to pay my bills.
But my weebook has been a trial balloon of sorts, the kiddie pool of publishing, the means by which I have begun to wrap my brain around the idea that thoughts in my head can become words on a page that can become a commodity.
I know that writers have been earning money for a long, long time. This is not a new concept.
But it was new to me. Freelancing is a different animal. Freelancing is still a form of a job.
This is solo. And it's scary. But it's also cool.