KDP Select: A Brief Overview

by Christina Lay

A few authors have asked me lately about my experiences with Kindle Direct Publishing’s Select option, so I thought I’d condense my notes and present them here. While the topic might be rather dry, it also might be of interest to those searching for new revenue streams for their published or about to be published works. For those who don’t know, Select is a program offered by KDP, Amazon’s ebook publishing service. By enrolling your ebook, you agree to offer it for sale exclusively on Amazon. In return, you get the option to list your book for free, for up to five days of each three-month enrollment period. This can be a big boon to someone who is using the freebie option as a marketing strategy. The second benefit of Select is that your book is available for “check-out” by anyone paying for a Kindle Unlimited subscription. Amazon pays the author for this by a royalty system that I’m sure keeps many up late into the night. It’s calculated by pages read—and each book gets a share of a monthly pot based on its percent of the total.  If you feel like giving yourself a headache, you can read details here.

I should pause a moment to point out that many seasoned, best-selling authors will warn you quite passionately against putting all of your book eggs in Amazon’s basket. I understand and I see the point very clearly. However, there are instances where having your book in Amazon’s free library might be a viable part of your overall strategy. And, when you sign up, the term is for three months. It is not as if you are selling your literary soul to the behemoth that is Amazon. Just remember to unclick the auto-renew option, so you can escape at will.

Are your books gathering dust? KDP Select might be an option for you.

I discovered the benefits of KDP Select by accident.  I published a very short story a couple years ago, with the intent of offering it for free to generate interest in my novels.  The easiest way to do it seemed to be to sign the book up for KDP Select, so that I could have the option of offering it for free on Amazon with no hassle. I did that, generated about 700 downloads, and I felt fairly satisfied with the whole experiment. There was a bump in novel sales, not big, but enough it seemed to have had a bit of an impact. Also, there were now 700 people in the world who at least were vaguely aware of my existence. Maybe someday they will actually read the story and become a fan, write a review, buy another book. That’s the dream.

Nowadays there are more free giveaway platforms like InstaFreebie and so on, to help with the Free Book gambit, but there are other reasons one might choose KDP Select.

I left my book in Amazon’s clutches without much thought of doing anything else with it. The short story continued to sit up there, neglected by me, and slowly, I noticed a few pennies dribbling into my checking account from Amazon. And yes, I do mean a few pennies.  KU’s author reward system is based on pages read, and my very short story generated very few royalties. I considered it amusing, and somewhat interesting.

Flash forward a few years, and I found myself with the rights to a backlist of novels after my publisher closed its doors. I repackaged them and when ready to re-release, decided to opt for KDP Select on the first book in a series, again mainly to generate interest in the rest.  This time the book was downloaded about 300 times. Not bad but not great either.  But then something else started to happen. Instead of a few dozen pages being logged in my KENP report (what Amazon calls pages read), there were thousands. I became more interested in Amazon’s byzantine reward system.  At the end of the month my pages read for that book resulted in a royalty payment that was about equal to the royalties from books sold, thereby doubling my income. Now, these were not quit-the-day-job-and-move-to-the-south-of-France numbers, but it did spark my interest, shall we say.  I signed up the second book in the series, and experienced the same results.  One might ask whether this diminishes actual sales, but there is no way to tell and by my calculations, the royalty result is nearly the same for a full-length book priced to sell (2.99-4.99). My guess is that readers who are paying for the KU option are probably reluctant to pay for a book, especially when they don’t know the author.

KDP Select is obviously not a good choice for everyone, or even most.  Obviously, if you have a solid fan base, your sales are going well and you feel satisfied with the progress of your publishing career, than signing over your fate to Amazon probably isn’t worth the sacrifice.  It is clearly in your benefit to have your ebooks available through every possible retailer.  And there are other ways to offer books for free.

However, if your sales are lagging, if you have books that have been around the block and are gathering dust on the virtual shelves, or if you have a series that could use a boost, this might be a golden opportunity to reach new readers.  And, if like me, you are an unknown minnow in a vast sea of unknown fish, having your book free on Amazon can give you a marketing lift like no other (assuming you don’t have a huge publicity budget, that is).  Over the span of my publishing experience, I must admit that sales via Amazon equal about ninety percent of my total, so being exclusive is not much of a sacrifice for me, especially not in the short term. Remember this is for ebooks only, not print.  So is it worth sacrificing a handful of sales to B&N and Apple readers? Only you can decide that.

Fiction and Viktor Frankl, by Eric Witchey

Label_Developed(image source: Alan M. Clark, cover artist)

Fiction and Viktor Frankl, by Eric Witchey

In my small way, I try to continually expand my awareness of the experiences of others. I do this because I’m curious by nature and because to do so improves my ability to tell a story. Because I have been working on a fantasy story to support the marketing efforts of Dungeon Solitaire, I found myself researching death rites and rituals from various parts of the world. I also decided to reread Viktor E. Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning.

For any human being capable of compassion, reading Viktor Frankl is always a heady experience. However, my immersion in death rites and rituals somehow brought me to a moment where I was struck by how fully universal to the human experience his accounts of life and core integrity are. Perhaps I should have felt this before, and I certainly understood it before, but this time it hit me more deeply in both the heart and mind.

In my travels in the writing life, I have met some pretty rabid Zionists, a few really terrifying Palestinian poets, escaped hostages from the Palestinian hostage crisis, survivors of Guatemalan genocide, Serbs, Iranian ex-pats, righteous American ex-pats, escaped cold war Ukrainians, Holocaust survivors, Turkish intellectual Muslims, a Greek freedom fighter (against the Germans and carrying huge hatred of all Germans and Turks), a Catholic monk who fought on the German side in WWI and the American side in WWII, and all manner of extreme Christians who, more than the others, scared the hell out of me personally. That last one included a mercenary I met on his way to South Africa to fight for the Christian white-right to bring Apartheid back. I won’t add more to this list. It’s already long enough to make my point.

During my interactions with various people who held aggressive/defensive positions that made me nervous, I have tried to keep my fear in check and truly listen to their (sometimes insane and irrational) personal positions in order to seek some understanding of what motivates actions I cannot understand from the context of my white-boy, Midwestern, multi-religion upbringing.

Those extreme souls I met who had a sense of history, even if only from their own agenda-driven point of view or other-interpreted oral traditions, had one thing in common. They deeply felt, and were sometimes motivated solely by, their fear for their families and their futures. Often, that fear was grounded in their sense of history, and their sense of history was based entirely on which side of the experiences they were on.

Here’s an example. I was in a village in central Mexico, and the man I was staying with casually described how he really liked the new mayor because she was not corrupt. I asked how he knew she was not corrupt, and he said, “Because the cartel has tried to kill her twice.”

Well, that caught my attention.

I asked about the cartel and whether we were safe. He laughed and told me that of course we were safe. He said, “If you were in one of your cities, there would places you knew not to go at night, right?” I nodded. “Us, too,” he said. “We just don’t go to the wrong places at the wrong times.”

The casual conversation moved on, and he eventually described to me how the cartels weren’t really a problem to the people of the village. From his perspective, the American gun dealers were the real problem.

I kept listening. He kept talking. From his perspective, the cartels were like the weather, but the Americans sold death. From his perspective, the cartels were God-fearing people doing the best they could in terrible economic circumstances. They brought products in from the South, moved the products through the area, and passed them on across the border to the North. However, it was the Godless, money-hungry Americans who created the market for the drugs and who fueled the destruction of families by selling guns to both the government and the cartels.

The above is a very short description of an off-and-on conversation that went on for more than a week, but I hope you get the idea. Everything he said was true for him and his family in their lives in their world.

The flip-side of that story is also equally true. The DEA agent I met in Pima, Arizona who had lost two members of her family, one to addiction and one to gunfire, hated the Mexican government and the Mexican people for allowing the cartels, for trafficking across the border, and for making poison available on the streets in a way that killed her brother. She believed that the Pope at that time supported the trafficking and that Catholic confession was part of the reason the smugglers could do what they did without remorse. She was also correct from within her context.

Both people were deeply moved because of their connection to family history, family safety, and possible futures. Both essentially hated the other for what they considered to be good reasons. Both supported their positions from a combination of personal experience, family history, speculation, and verifiable fact.

An aside: Personally, the more I learned about the illegal gun trade and the multi-billion dollar flow of firearms from the U.S. to Mexico, the more disgusted I got with the whole situation. So, I wrote a story, “The Tequila Volcano.” It appeared in a literary journal last year, Timberline Review. It’s very short, and I recommend both the story and the journal.

When Viktor Frankl described both the deterioration of prisoners, whom one would expect to be supportive of one another, into brutal behavior toward one another and concentration camp guards, whom one would expect to be brutal but a few of whom engaged in acts of compassion and kindness, I was struck once more with the sad truth that no group has a lock on reality.

No person or group is entitled to perfect righteousness.

Frankl broke both the prisoners and the guards of the concentration camps into two essential groups: those who have core decency and those who do not. Neither guards nor prisoners were a homogenous front of virtue or brutality.

My life has exposed me to people from many traditions, to multiple holy texts, to people who have survived race and religion-motivated traumas, and to amazing acts of kindness and human decency from all regions, races, and holy traditions.

I do my very best to support the growth of the human heart. I do my best to find the commonality of experience and to avoid becoming bogged down in the destructive, isolating interpretations of ideology that are often used to fuel fear and justify destructive behavior. I cannot ever truly understand the devastation that is part of some family histories and historical identities. I can only do my best to dampen and block the perpetuation of fear and hatred in all its forms. I hope that my fiction explores mutual understanding, expands the development of compassion, and creates some sense of common ground in the human condition.

I believe that stories can help to heal the world. They lead the way to new thoughts, to expanded awareness, to a smaller sense of “I” and a greater sense of “we.”

So, I tell another story.

Creation Creates Us, by Eric Witchey

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Photo Source: iStockPhoto, dschaef

Creation Creates Us, by Eric Witchey

The world creates writers; writers create the world.

On the quantum level, scientists, specifically my brother, Dr. Nick, who is an actual Ph.D. Particle Physicist, say that our perceptions and expectations may actually influence the manifestation of phenomenon. They definitely influence experimentation.

Much has been made of this concept in the fields of science fiction and fantasy. It’s not a new idea. Writers have been using and abusing it since the thirties. However, we rarely step back and think about the concept as a social phenomenon. Self-help gurus twist it around and talk about it a lot. The Secret movement of ten years ago is an example. It touted the law of attraction and the power of visualization, but it forgot to mention the correlation of success with long, carefully considered, constantly focused hard work. It also forgot to mention the long list of ethical, moral, and legal shortcomings of the people it presented as champions of the program.

None-the-less, the long-recognized value of visualization as a predecessor to success has value. Even Olympic athletes work hard to see themselves performing and winning as part of their training. Of course, we also know that if ten athletes visualize themselves on the top slot of the podium, only one of them will actually end up there. That doesn’t mean the others didn’t perform better because of their visualization. It just means that in the end, we, as a people, prefer to recognize dominance rather than contribution and performance improvement.

Hm… I suppose a strong case could be made for visualization manifestation as a trope of fantasy magic systems.

However, I want to talk about Steve Martin.

No, it’s not a digression. I admit, however, that people who know me and my ramblings shouldn’t be chastised for jumping ship now because it very well could be a squirrel I’m about to chase, and that squirrel could end up climbing a tree and laughing at my readers.

But it’s not.

You see, Steve Martin, whom I’ve never met and who, as far as I can tell, is not related to George R. R., has been a part of my awareness of comedy, writing, and film since he first went on stage wearing an arrow through his hat and picking a banjo. His career has spanned decades and gone from early, totally silly stage performance to serious writing and acting that has enriched our culture.

Also, I long ago read somewhere that he likes inline skates. So do I. So, I admire him.

Because I admire him, I paid attention to an obscure interview some years ago. In it, the interviewer asked him how he came up with his particular brand of zany comedy all those years ago in the 70s. His response floored me. He said that as an aspiring comedian, he came up around the angry comedy of the Civil Rights and Viet Nam era. This was the period of comedians like Lenny Bruce and Richard Pryor. Mr. Martin said that during that era, the era of the civil rights movement and protest against unnecessary militarism, military-industrial government corruption, population suppression (Kent State, Watts, and Chicago), and outright political corruption (Watergate), he saw a time coming when people would be exhausted and want a kind of humor that was lighter and more superficial. He invented his stand-up character with the silly hat, over-the-top delivery, and banjo in anticipation of that moment.

The moment came. The war ended. Nixon left office. The riots died down for a while.

Steve Martin leapt to the stage with happy energy dancing like King Tut and yelling, “I get paid for doing this!”

And, once again for people who follow my little essays, we come to the moment when we ask, “What the hell does this have to with writing and quantum theory?”

Right now, we live in the land of the political, ecological, military industrial train wreck we can’t stop watching as it happens. Most of us are sick to death of the endless wars, the obvious political corruption, and the corporate harvesting of our hard-earned money. Personally, I have lost two retirement accounts to corporate corruption, and for five years I fought with the banks to keep my house because I made the mistake of following their instructions in 2009. My trust landed me squarely in the debacle of fraudulent foreclosure scams. I was lucky. I was able to spend many thousands of dollars fighting. In the end. I managed to keep my house. Most did not, but that’s another story.

The point is that I’m not alone. None of us are. We are all just exhausted by the inefficient, ineffectual human stupidity all around us.

We are ripe for Steve Martin.

When I seek a new book to read, my emotional exhaustion means I don’t seek out the latest, greatest somber tome on social justice or personal triumph over childhood trauma.

I don’t seek out the classics unless I’m doing research.

I look for something that will make me smile and laugh. I look for a book that will give me a sense that the world can be right even though I know it is not. More and more, I look for books in which small groups of people, communities, come together to create actual, personal bonds. Better yet, I look for stories that show me those connections and make me laugh out loud.

So, this climate of emotional exhaustion and compassion fatigue is real. We live in it. We know it. We do what we can to fight it. We also, all of us, crave a kinder, lighter sense of life, community, and the world.

This deep, massive, underlying hope is an expectation, a proto-visualization of what could be—of what we want to manifest. As writers, we can give this nebulous hope form and put these visions out into the world as tiny seeds around which a new reality can crystalize.

Steve Martin may have once presented himself as “a wild and crazy guy,” but he also presented a sense of joy to the world, and around that sense of joy, others rallied. As his art matured, what began as silliness became satirical humor. His joy for life became both balm and social reform. It became a sort of call to action that people could embrace because laughing and joining together in common jokes let people address real problems in their hearts, their families, and the world.

Some weekend, when you are set up to binge a bit, walk through the progression of his acts and films. Go back and watch The Jerk, The Man with Two Brains, Roxanne, L.A. Story, Planes Trains and Automobiles, Father of the Bride, and Baby Momma. Watch the movement from the predominately silly with social undertones to the socially poignant with comedic undertones.

Do the same with the tales of Sir Terry Pratchett or with the progress of novels from Christopher Moore, to whom I am forever grateful for the greatest zombie line in all of literature, “First brains, then Ikea.”

Are these comedic writers created by their times? Are they creating their times? Are we, as writers, manifestations of the larger consciousness of the world around us, or are we creating the world around us by providing centers around which new visions of self and culture can be organized?

What we visualize can clearly influence our ability to perform. What we manifest in story can clearly influence the visualizations of the people around us. So, does our today’s project bring both salve and escape from our fear, anxiety, and fatigue? Can it? Can it be funny and provide insight and solution that creates a new world?

By all the muses, I hope so. Just for today, I hope my world includes something silly—something that makes me smile and laugh. I hope that my writing influences reality—creates an opportunity for others to visualize a better world in which people can look at one another’s differences, smile, and laugh because we all know we are all hurting and, in the end, we are all in it together.

-End-

Postscript: For people who are interested in taking a March 30th full-day class in Corvallis, Oregon from someone who does a very good job of manifesting humor and social consciousness, check out this link to a seminar offered by Willamette Writers on the River:

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/the-nuts-and-bolts-of-writing-and-selling-short-stories-tickets-21469413594