Greetings and Welcome to the Newsletter

Hi everyone.

Well, another month of pure exciting days in beautiful Spring Farm NSW. To be honest, when I am asked where I live, I have to Sydney because no one ever heard of Spring Farm.

As of the 2021 census, Spring Farm had 9,868 individuals, and the population was pretty young, with the median age of 30 years. It is on the east side of the Nepean River and some areas do flood (not us, thank goodness) and until recently; it was mainly farmland with a winery, an electricity substation, but as with many areas in southwest Sydney, the area is growing rapidly.

This means more fun for me as a writer as I see an increase of influx of folks from all over the world. (English, Scots, Indians, and many others). The more the merrier as catching folks at their best always makes for a delightful story.

It took me a while to recover from COVID which I manage to get on the cruise and in my haste (nay, stupidity) I let our GP’s recommendation to get the flu shot this month take hold of us.

Well, it knocks Miriam for a loop and for almost three days she was out of it with all the fly symptoms. I was fortunate I got nothing during the same three days but like everything in life there is always something lurking around so the combination of the aftereffects of COVID and the flu gave the sniffles for almost two weeks and a cough that made me sound like a hundred-year-old fart.

This meant we stay home indoors a lot, but we recovered and now we are going on a rampage by hopping on a Thai Airlines flight in May and heading for three weeks visiting Bangkok and then taking a few days in Phuket on the beach at a resort. I hope to bring back some stories from all this.

Well, enough about what is going on with me. Now comes the good stuff.

This month’s special guest author is Mr peter Draper, who is sharing with us the first chapter of his novel “The King of Gravesend is Dead!”  

This Month’s Guest Author

CHAPTER ONE

may 23rd

Brian Atwood stood at the lectern and unbuttoned his suit jacket.  Then he buttoned it up again and looked at the small card in his hand, then unbuttoned it.  Finally he spoke, “I’m useless at this crap. So I will just tell you that I have known Chuds Douglas since I was a young man.  We worked together a lot and we built a few good businesses.  When he left the country I was left to run the businesses, he had no problem signing everything over to me and I blew it, because that’s who I am.   When he came back I was a depressed layabout and everything was gone.”

“Chuds didn’t care, he started again and he took me with him.  We have Regal Modular now and I look after a very successful business again, he basically saved my life, and now he’s gone.  Gone for good this time.  We don’t have a body to mourn, burn or bury, but he’s gone.  The King is dead, and I’m gutted.”

He looked over at Ro who was sitting in the front row of the makeshift seating and gave a wistful smile, “Some of us here will miss him a lot more than me, Ro you brought a lot into his life, in candid moments he couldn’t stop talking about you, your relationship and what you meant to him.”

Brian paused, he needed to compose himself so he looked around at the 30 or so people in attendance, he knew them all apart from 3 men sitting  at the back in suits.  He suspected they were from the funeral company that they had to hire, apparently, even though there was no body to bury or cremate.  They looked harmless enough, which probably meant that they weren’t but he had no way to prove that.

His eyes met Anil’s, the lawyer that took care of all the legal aspects of the businesses, and he shrugged, meaning that he didn’t know what else to say.  Anil stood and walked to the lectern, whispering in Brian’s ear as he walked past, he took over the proceedings.

“Brian, thanks so much.  You obviously knew Chuds better than most here and I agree, it seems strange to have no body to mourn, no service to attend, which is why we are having a celebration of life right now. I can’t think of a better life to celebrate too.  Chuds was a lot of different things to many different people, but I think the main quality that we can all agree on is that he was loyal.  If you were a friend of his and you were attacked he would defend you to the hilt,” he looked at Wrong Way Ronnie as he said this and saw the nod of appreciation, “and if you needed help, and he could provide it, you knew it was coming.”

Anil noticed the three men at the back of the room for the very first time and tried to get some acknowledgement from them, but they sat, stoically still, just looking back at him. 

“I don’t think it would be fair to avoid the whole ‘bad boy does good’ aspect to Chuds’ life.  He was sometimes a bit of a villain, but a good one.  He never exploited anyone, just provided services that people wanted and always, and I mean always, looked after anyone that was in business with him.”  Anil looked at the attorney that worked exclusively on Chuds’ businesses, Deepa.  She was sitting next to Ro, holding her hand and as she looked over to Anil she nodded in agreement.  “Would anyone else like to say a few words?”

Wrong Way Ronnie stood and half raised his hand, and he walked towards the lectern.  As he passed Anil they exchanged a look and Anil said, very quietly, “Fucking behave up there Ronnie or I’ll sort you myself.”

 Ronnie stood there and looked around the group, he smiled at a couple of people then coughed into his hand before speaking.  “I just want to confirm what Anil said about Chuds having his friend’s backs.  I’ve known him a long time, we went way back and I made a big mistake not too long ago.  I put my saddle on the wrong horse in a certain race, and you might say I grassed on Chuds to a business opponent.”

Ro looked at Ronnie and whispered loudly, “Might say?”

Ronnie caught her eye and looked down, then said softly, “Alright, I’ll change my plea, I grassed on him.  But… but when Bash Basha had me worked over really good, Chuds had my back. He made matters right AND looked after my family while I couldn’t earn.  Our friendship was definitely a bit strained after that but he never stopped looking out for me and for that I’ll be forever grateful.” 

He looked over at Ro and said, “Ro, I am so sorry, anything I can do you just have to say it.  Also I’d like to say I had a few memorial souvenirs knocked up for this gathering, some t-shirts a few mugs and I’ve got a merch table set up at the back.”

The can of Fanta that Ro hurled at him missed his head by about an inch.

“Ronnie, go take that fucking table down now or I’ll put you through it myself. You have no fucking shame do you?”

Ronnie nodded and ran to the back to box up the mementos while Ro walked up to the lectern.

“Most everyone in this room knows me and my background and about my relationship with Chuds.  A few of you didn’t really understand how it happened, can’t work out how we ended up together, but he was a good friend to my Mum and he looked after me when I needed him and he never asked for anything in return. I’ll say that again for the people in the cheap seats at the back, he never asked me for anything in return.  That’s why I fell in love with him.  There I said it.  A lot of you saw and heard us bicker and often it sounded like we were fighting, but we weren’t,  I know that he loved me ’cause he told me a lot, and whenever he did I always told him to fuck off.  But I always told the closest person to me that was within both our ear shots that I really loved him too, and I made sure that he heard as well.  And I did love him, and I still do and I’m gonna look to a few of you here to help me make sense of this and find out exactly what happened.”

Ro looked straight to the back of the room at the three mystery men, never flinching, then she let her gaze wander around the room and finally said,  “All the businesses will carry on, he left them to me but,” she looked at Chud’s Son, Daughter and grand kids, “You will all be taken care of, you are directors of the company now and you’ll get taken care of too.”

 “Now, before I start to take this too seriously, Poncy Pete has put on a free bar in the next room and our restaurant, Fusion King, has laid out a street food buffet courtesy of Steve and Jun.  I intend to get shit faced, falling down drunk and you all should join me.”  She looked over at Chuds’ grand kids and said, “Maybe not you, but at least have a shandy on the house.”

She looked, once again, at the three men at the back and said, “You three, if you have a reason to be here you can tell it to ‘The Big Man’ over there,” she looked over at Deepa and said, “did you ever find out his name?” Deepa shook her head, “Well, you can’t miss him and I want to reassure you that he won’t miss you if you shouldn’t be here.”

Ro reached to the table behind her and picked up a bottle of red wine, “Ah, 2022, I hear it was a good year, and nicely chilled as Chuds liked it.”  She took a huge swig straight from the bottle and yelled, “The King of Gravesend is Dead, Long live the King.  Now let’s get hammered!”

 Poncy Pete threw open the doors to the next room and minced his way through, “This way you reprobates,” he screamed in a voice so high it woke the neighbourhood dogs.  

The Big Man, one of the heads of security from Regal Modular, honed in on the three men that had been sitting at the back of the room, but they turned and started to walk out of the room.  He got Ro’s attention and yelled, “Want me to interview them Ro?”

 She shook her head and mouthed, “Fuck’em.”

Looking over to Poncey Pete  she said, “Tell the band to start Pete!”

At the back of the room, on a makeshift stage sat the members of what was the first, and hopefully only, reunion of Sgt. Red Amber and the Green Lights.  All now ex policemen, a little heavier than they used to be, or in the case of Starvin’ Marvin, the lead singer, a lot heavier, the drummer started a swing beat and they eased into a jazzy version of Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze”.   Marvin, notorious for having absolutely no regard for lyrical accuracy crooned, “Excuse me while I kiss this guy” and the bass player hissed, “Get the words right you prune” but nobody cared.

People danced, raised their glasses to Chuds, kissed and danced some more. The band segued into The Eurythmic’s  “Sweet Dreams are made of this” except Sgt. Red Amber seemed to think that “Sweet Dreams are made of Cheese,” much to the bass player’s chagrin.  Once again, nobody cared and everybody danced.  Everybody except The Big Man who stood at the back keeping an eye on things in a supremely professional way.

He too had every reason to be grateful for Chuds.  He had been working for the Basha’s when Chuds recruited him and trained him, not only on how not to rely just on his size but also how to show restraint and how to identify potential troublemakers. He loved his life now and wanted to make sure that Ro knew she could rely on him, He would not be drinking this evening, instead he’d raise a glass on his day off.

After about 30 minutes of playing some remarkable smooth jazz and swing, Marvin took the mic from the stand and said, “Ladies. Gentleman and even Wrong Way Ronnie, you little pillock, attention please.  We have a special guest here and Ro wants to sing a song before she gets too drunk,  I want you to welcome to the stage Miss Ro and local guitar legend, Geoff Whitehorn guitarist for the incredible Procul Harum.” 

Ro walked up and took the mic as the keyboard player started the intro to “A Whiter Shade of Pale.”  Geoff borrowed the guitarist’s Strat and they did a beautiful cover version of the classic song that Ro and Chuds would always dance to. As she sang, her voice so clean and tuneful, she thought to herself, “Oh we skipped the light fandango alright, didn’t we Chuds,” and gentle tears started to flow.  Looking over at Geoff she nodded and he leaned into a beautiful guitar solo, full of emotion and soul.  As the song came to a graceful finish she looked over at Geoff once again and mouthed, “Thanks Geoff, you’re awesome.”

To everyone’s applause he handed back the guitar, kissed Ro on the cheek and waved at the group as he started to leave. Marvin took the mic and announced, “Ladies and Gents, Ro with special guest Geoff Whitehorn and the Green Light band.”  There were whoops, cheers and applause, “Geoff please don’t tell the Performing Rights Society what just happened.”  Geoff laughed, waved back and left after shaking the Big Man’s Hand at the door.

After the band had played for an hour, they left for their break and Marti and Johnny, who ran the karaoke business at Regal Modular took to the stage. While Johnny set the karaoke system up Marti said a few words of appreciation for Chuds and Ro and soon launched into “Since you’ve been gone”. This was the song that had caused her to split with Chuds and the band they were both in over 25 years ago, an event for which Chuds had apologized and Marti had claimed ownership of, telling him that it had turned her life around in a major way.

The karaoke went on and on, everyone took a turn or three and many favourite old songs were dusted off and dragged through the mud.  The party was a raging success and everyone thought Chuds Douglas had been given a great send off.   

UPDATE ON WRITING AND SELF-PUBLISHING AND MARKETING 

The month has been very productive for me.

I really do not have much of a life. My wife is TERRIFIC, for she does all the heavy lifting around the house; the cooking, the washing and more. I throw my back out when I help by vacuuming, but I am superb at eating all her excellent meals, so we do what we do best.

This means that I have time – a lot of time – and that time is invested in research, reading and writing. Lots and lots of writing.

In April, I completed an additional thirty short stories (one a day). This means that should have Stories to Share with My Partner – Book 7, might be out in late May or early June.

I also received back from my editor/proofreader my latest attempt at publishing – title ‘The Legacy Compass.’

The story revolves on a Cuban family displaced by the Cuban revolution in 1959 as they decide to leave the country for the USA and the patriarch, Francisco, does not want to leave the Cuba and wants to die in Cuba. He tells this to the family, and he gathers his three grandchildren (Raquel, David, and Andrea) and gives them a compass.

The grandfather says states that: “This compass will guide you to your greatest treasure. But its secrets will remain hidden until each of you has reached your twenty-fifth year. Only when you stand together, all three of you, will it reveal its true purpose.”

The editorial from the copy editor was good and only a few issues/suggestions for me to do which I will take under advisement and the start the interior book formatting and book cover. Keep you posted on this.

I also created three additional novel outlines: ‘A Night of Love,’ ‘The Teacher’s Assistant’ and ‘Maybe This Is Something’ which will be my attempt at a bit of romance (with some sprinkles of lust and sex, just to make things interesting).

This has taken me two weeks to do but they will be novellas (shorter than a novel) which should take less than 25 chapters for each book. I figure one a month starting in June and I should be done by November/December for this year’s productivity.

Before anyone panics my wife, Miriam will attest that on an ‘average’ day I spend an easy 8 hours reading, wring and researching, so creating these short stories and novels can be done. The rest of the time I spend sleeping (6 to 7 hours) a day and the rest is relaxing (the Coffee Muggers events or shopping, doctors’ appointments or watching TV).

I have substituted 40 hours in the office for 40 hours of writing.

Excellent results?

God and the few that were brave enough to make a purchase and do a review should answer that question.

The second quarter of the year has been horrific for bookstore sales. Both stores that carry my books sold none! The worst part they are not restocking their low supply since they both stated that ‘sales have slowed down due to the economic situation currently affecting many customers.

On the plus side, this month sales of books and audiobooks to the libraries were excellent, so go figure.

In the quiet town of Northport, New South Wales, nestled amidst rolling hills and grazing paddocks, there lived a man named Jim Bolton. He was a kind-hearted soul, known for his gentle smile and willingness to help anyone in need. Jim’s biggest fault was he never really ever followed instructions to the letter. He always thought there was a shortcut to everything.

But there was something unusual about Jim. The town’s citizens all diplomatically tried to ask Jim what had happened. Had he won the lottery? He was constantly happy.

They just did not know that Jim was in love with a ghost named Emily Pritchard.

Emily’s family laid her to rest in 1924 after she passed away from the Spanish influenza epidemic at the early age of twenty-four.

The papers at the time reported that Emily’s parents, who never got over her death, were the only ones who survived her.

For some unknown reason, Emily did not cross over, and her gentle personality made her a tender spirit who travelled within the perimeter of the Northport cemetery.

Over the many years, there were always rumours that a ghost haunted the cemetery but that it was not a malicious one, rather, a calm one, never causing problems. Somehow, the town’s folks decide that Emily Pritchard fitted the description, and the spirit received Emily’s namesake.

The town folk were correct, for it was Emily all right.

Emily never knew why she did not cross over. When she died from she had been thinking of her fiancée. That is why Emily did not cross over.

Well, at least that is what she thought, and that is what she shares with Jim Bolton after meeting him.

Emily wondered around the moss-covered gravestones in the town’s cemetery days and nights minding her own business.

Though she recalled how she’d become a ghost, she remembered her days fondly when she had been alive, and the town had been bustling with life.

     Jim had first encountered Emily on a moonlit night while taking a leisurely stroll near the cemetery. He had a few too many at the local pub, the White Sheep, where he had spent a fun time with a town celebrity of sorts, Danny Monk, owner of the bookstore, Village Books & Stuff, and he decided not to drive and not bother with an Uber and just walk it home cutting through the cemetery.

Jim stumbles and lands right in front of Emily’s grave.

Jim gets up from the ground and starts dusting himself off. And he feels an inexplicable connection to her instantly as she approaches him in her ethereal form. Her long, flowing hair glowed like silver strands, and her eyes sparkles with a warmth that pierced straight through his heart.

     “Holy mother of God are you a ghost?” was all he could say.

“Yes, kind sir, I am. I reside in this cemetery. Are you hurt? I noticed you tripped, disturbed my grave, so I had to pop up and look.”

“You popped up? Are you always…” and Jim points to the grave mound.

“Of course. I get tired and must rest so I lay here frequently. I sometimes hang around during the day when there are services of new arrivals and I welcome them. Other times I am out at night just enjoying the evening and sometime catching lovers coming to steal a kiss behind some of the tombstones.”

Jim takes a moment to read her tombstone: ‘Emily Pritchard, Beloved Daughter of Peter, and Rosalyn Pritchard. B: 1900, D. 1924.’

“My goodness. So young to have died,” thought Jim to himself.

Jim took another look around but could not find the parents’ tombstone. He was not sure if he should ask, but he did.

“Emily, your parents are not buried here. Do you know why?”

“Sir, how do you know my name?” Emily, in shock, asks Jim.

“I read your tombstone, Ms Pritchard,” responded Jim, almost apologetic.

“Ms? What is a Ms?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. They did not address you as a Ms in your times. A Miz is a neutral option that doesn’t indicate any marital status. It’s most commonly used for older unmarried women and for women whose marital status a person does not know, but you can use it for any adult woman. Again, my apologies for I forgot they did not use this terminology in your times.”

“Miz, I like it. I was engaged but then the illness took me, but I digress. My parents used to visit once a week, then once a month, then every few months. Then in 1926 my father got a commission to help build a bridge in Sydney, so they moved closer to the build. In 1929, my mother paid me a visit and delivered the news that he had died in an accident, and they had laid him to rest in Sydney. After that, I never saw her again.”

 “I was engaged to be married to Albert Thompson, but he had enlisted in the military before we married and perished during the Armenian–Azerbaijani War of 1918–1920.”

“So sorry to hear, Emily. Listen, would it be OK for me to visit you some evenings? We could chat a bit about your world when you were alive, and I can tell you about mine.”

“That would be lovely. I never got your name, sir.”

“Jim. Jim Bolton,” said Jim with a big smile.

“Well, Jim Bolton, when shall I see you again?”

“How about we make it a date for Friday evening?”

“A date? My, oh my, I started hearing that word in 1918 after my Albert was killed. My mother would say: ‘Go on a date, Emily. You are still young,’ but I just could not.”

“Would there be a problem today, Emily, for you to go on a date with me?”

“Not at all, Mr Bolton, not at all.”

“Please call me Jim. I will see you on Friday evening. No particular time?”

“No. come when you like. I will be here,” Emily says with the biggest smile Jim has ever seen.

The first date went well and so did the many other ones they had.

Jim changed. The town folk now saw him smiling all the time. Cheerful, open to conversation. When asked if he had found someone, his mood changed and he avoided the conversation, and in particular the answer, which he never gave. The town folk did not pursue it.

Weeks turned two months and Emily’s and Jim’s love blossomed over countless conversations under the starry skies. Jim would bring a folding chair to the cemetery, a thermos of hot tea, and a book to read to her, while Emily’s presence illuminated the darkness. They spoke about their dreams, their pasts, and their deepest desires. Jim’s love for Emily grew stronger with each passing day, and astonishingly, Emily felt the same way about him.

     However, their love faced a unique challenge: the boundary between the living and the deceased.

Jim could never hold Emily’s hand or feel the warmth of her embrace, no matter how deeply he yearned for it. And Emily, despite her ghostly existence, wished she could be by Jim’s side in the physical world.

     Determined to overcome the insurmountable barrier between them, Jim consulted the town’s old librarian, Mrs O’Connell. Jim did not want to give Mrs O’Connell too much information, so he steered the conversation as if he was trying to draft a short story for his writers’ group and needed some story ideas and research material.

Mrs O’Connell was more than helpful, for the library had an extensive collection of rare books on the supernatural, which, when added to Mrs O’Connell’s knowledge, proved invaluable.

     After a few days of research, Mrs. O’Connell discovered a long-forgotten legend about a magical amulet hidden within the heart of the nearby forest. This amulet was said to possess the power to bridge the gap between the living and the spirit world.

     “Now Jim, you know that is just a legend. Nobody really believes it,” she said.

“Of course, Mrs O’Connell, I understand. Just a legend. May I leave all my research work here? I will come back for it later,” and Mrs O’Connell nods in agreement.

With newfound hope, Jim ventures into the forest and, after much searching, Jim uncovers the amulet, an exquisite, heart-shaped pendant adorned with shimmering gemstones. When Jim touches the amulet, it emits a soft, radiant glow. He remembers part of what he read and what he needed to do so the amulet would work.

     Checking the time on his watch, Jim knows the library has, so he rushes to Emily’s side without confirming all the notes of his research. Reaching the cemetery, Jim approaches Emily with the amulet hanging from his neck. As he held it out to her, a miracle happened. The amulet’s glow enveloped Emily’s spectral form, and she felt herself slowly materializing.

     Tears of joy welled up in Jim’s eyes as he embraces Emily, holding her close for the first time. Emily, too, feels overwhelmed with emotion as she experiences the warmth of Jim’s touch.

     Their love, once confined to the realm of the metaphysical, now knew no boundaries, or so they hoped.

Suddenly Jim starts to slowly to dematerialise in front of Emily.

“What is happening, Jim? You are disappearing!” she screams.

Jim takes out his wallet and takes out a business card. He then takes a pen from his pocket. Handing his wallet and house keys to Emily, he then jots something on the back of his card and hands it to Emily before he completely disappears from this realm, leaving Emily in tears.

Emily reads the business card and starts walking to the address on the business card. When she arrives at Jim’s house, using the keys he gave her, she enters it and slowly closes the door.

The next day Emily goes to the library to speak with Mrs O’Connell and, according to Jim’s wishes, explains to her what has happened.

Mrs O’Connell goes back and does more research and comes back to Emily with a sad face.

“Ms Pritchard, I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do. Jim did not finish reading the instructions for the use of the amulet. There is no reversal. He just did not follow all the directions. Jim is gone from this realm forever,” a sadly spoke Mrs O’Connell states.

All Jim and Emily wanted to do was to spend their days exploring the town of Northport, holding hands, and living the love story of which they had always dreamed.

As Emily walks out of the library, all she can think about is that men, even in this era, cannot follow directions.

Jose’ Nodar    ©    2023

AUTHOR BEWARE

Since I started on my journey of writing short stories, poetry, and some novels, I discussed with many authors and read opinions on the strategy of price dropping your book prices to attract readers, which hopefully may lead to more sales down the road. I know a few authors that tried this strategy using different methods: amazon ads, book promotions services, etc and there have been mixed reactions which is because of many reasons: inflation, book niche, book price and a few more.

So, should you go ahead with a book price drop promotion for your books?

The reader may have read that book price drop promotions have become a widely used strategy for authors and publishers in the crowded literary market. These promotions involve temporarily reducing the price of an e-book, paperback, or audiobook to attract more readers and boost sales.

But do they really work, and what are the pros and cons of employing such a strategy? I hope to describe what I think, remember; I am just an author, not a publisher, and can only present to the reader my individual opinions. So, let us dive in into the pros and cons of book price drop promotions.

Let us start with some pros of price drop book promotions.

First, there is the potential first benefit of attracting more readers. By temporarily lowering the price of a book, it becomes accessible to a broader audience, especially those hesitant to pay full price. The increased downloads and sales can lead to a spike in the book’s rankings on online retail platforms like Amazon, making it more visible to potential readers. This improved visibility often has a snowball effect, as higher rankings can drive organic sales even after the promotion ends. That is why I recommend that authors use the services of www.worldbookreviews.com.au

Second benefit is a price drop promotion is an excellent way to introduce your work to new readers. Readers who might be on the fence about purchasing at a higher price may take a chance when they see the discounted rate. If they enjoy the book, they are likely to explore other titles by the same author and potentially become long-term fans. This strategy is effective for series, as offering the first book at a reduced price can hook readers into purchasing subsequent books at a regular price.

The third benefit is that a well-timed price drop may result in an influx of new readers, some of whom may leave reviews. Positive reviews are crucial in building a book’s credibility and attracting more readers. The increased visibility during a promotion can lead to more reviews, which help with marketing efforts even after the promotion has ended.

The next benefit is the short-term sales revenue increase which you may receive.

While a price drop promotion will reduce the profit margin per sale, they may result in a volume of sales that compensates for this reduction. The immediate boost in revenue can be helpful for self-published authors looking to recoup their investment in production costs or fund future projects.

            These benefits seem to be good reasons for introducing a price drop book promotion into your strategy, but read these few cons and then make your decision.

            The first, and in my opinion the biggest, con, is the risk of devaluing the book.

Frequent price drop book promotions can create an impression that the book’s lower price is its actual worth. This perception may deter readers from purchasing at full price in the future, as they may wait for another discount. If an author runs price-drop promotions too often, it can erode the perceived value of their work.
            While I cannot prove it, a price drop book promotion may lead to an increase in sales, their long-term impact can be limited. Once the promotion ends and the price returns to normal, the sales spike usually declines. The promotional effect might not result in sustained sales unless the author has a solid follow-up strategy, such as a sequel release or continuous marketing efforts.

            As many authors realise, the profit margins in book’s sales are small and reducing the book’s price means cutting into the potential profit margin. For authors who already have slim margins, especially self-published ones who invest in cover design, editing, and marketing, the reduced revenue from each sale can be a significant drawback. While volume sales can sometimes make up for this, there is no guarantee that a price-drop will result in enough sales to offset the loss in revenue.

            Finally, price drop book promotions are often combined with advertising on platforms like BookBub, Amazon Ads, or social media. These promotions are not free; they come with advertising costs that may eat into the revenue generated by the discounted sales. Authors need to calculate carefully if the cost of the promotion is justified by the expected increase in sales.

             In conclusion, do price drop book promotions work?

            The effectiveness of price drop book promotions depends on the author’s goals and strategy. If the primary aim is to boost visibility, attract new readers, or garner more reviews. The strategy of price drop book promotions may be quite effective. However, for those who are looking to maximise profit margins or establish their books as premium products, frequent price-drops may not be the best strategy.

            In my opinion, the key is balance and strategic planning. Occasional price-drop promotions, especially when launching a new book or revitalizing an older title, can be a powerful tool.

However, they should be used thoughtfully to avoid devaluing the author’s work and eroding long-term profitability.

Ultimately, a well-executed price-drop campaign can introduce a book to a wider audience, generate short-term sales boosts, and provide marketing leverage, but it should be part of a larger, carefully considered marketing strategy.

Let me know your thoughts on this.  Shoot me a quick email to info@jfnodar.com.au

José F. Nodar    ©    2025

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