If you’ve been paying attention, you’re aware that in order for an Indie Author to own his or her ISBN, they have to be purchased directly, in batches of 10, for a price of $245.00 plus a $30.00 registration fee, for a total of $275.00 for 10 numbers.

Or you can buy them one at a time, from My Identifiers (dot) com at $125.00 each, but that requires you purchase a subscription to the site My Identifiers and continue your subscription.

Lulu and a few other sites, like Createspace, can sell you one for around $99.00, but these numbers are owned by Lulu and Createspace, not you. Keep that in mind.

But you know all that. You’ve been reading this blog, and doing some research, so you’re fully aware. And I’ll grant you this, buying them in a block of 10 is the most economical solution. The price (including the processing fee) is then $27.50 per ISBN. And you already know, because you’re smart like that, you’ll need one number for your paper back, one number for your hard back, another number for your audio book, and yet one more number for that highly sought-after eBook.

So one title, if you go each route, will require no less than 4 numbers. That’s 4 of your 10 used up on one novel so far.

But wait – we’re not done yet.

Which format are you using for that eBook?

Did you realize, you’ll need A SEPARATE ISBN FOR EACH AND EVERY FORMAT?

“You’re shittin’ me!”

The standards regarding ISBN’s require that every – single – format needs it’s own unique ISBN. So let’s play Give Me An Example, shall we?

In The Time Of Dying (which has no ISBN, if you were wondering) is available in paperback, will later on this winter be available in hardback with added bonus material, is also available, through Smashwords, in no less than 8 eBook formats.

Eight.

Depending on your equipment, your needs, and your desires, In The Time Of Dying can be purchased as: HTML, Java, Kindle, Epub, PDF, RTF, LRF (the Sony eReader) and Palm Doc.

Eight different and distinct formats, each would require their own ISBN – if I’d gone that route. So my block of 10 ISBN’s would be used up, completely, by one single novel.

If I’d done this with everything that I have available now, each novel in each format, including paperback, I’d have to purchase 70 ISBN’s to a tune of $1,925.00 or I could go ahead and purchase a block of 100 for $960.00 (including registration fee).

The International Book Sellers Number was never designed to accommodate eBooks, and has failed thus far to catch up or entertain alternatives. Amazon refuses to even bother with ISBN’s on any of their Kindle editions, having instead invented the ASIN to track their Kindle eBooks. Even novels with ISBN’s don’t get them assigned when Amazon puts out a Kindle book.

ISBN’s have their place, I’ll give you that, but it’s a place mostly reserved for physical books, and Traditionally published authors. It’s a system designed to help Publishers track information related to sales, and for Bookstores and Libraries to keep track of titles and place orders. Until the system catches up with the eBook, and stands ready and willing to adapt and learn with the constantly changing times, I fail to see the need for any Indie author to bother. If you want to, feel free and don’t let anyone talk you out of it. But if you’re saving up for that ISBN because you believe that having it will somehow give your self published title more clout, more importance, and some form of prestige, keep this in mind – Anyone with a thick wallet can get an ISBN.

I don’t know about you, but a thick wallet and willingness to spend money don’t equal prestige, clout or importance in my world.

Power to the People!

Make Love, not War!

Is the turkey done yet?

Today I came across yet another group of people who seem completely ignorant as to the differences between Vanity and Self / Indie Publishing, and I have to admit, that kind of ignorance drives me up a wall.

I could ignore them, and I do for the most part, but I realize there are some out there who honestly don’t understand the difference. Some who are trying to get it straight in their own minds, or who would like to explain it to others.

So it’s for them that I’d like to put things very simply –

Vanity = Pay-to-Play

Self Publishing = Blood, sweat and effort.

If you’ve paid someone to take your novel and make it possible for yourself and others to purchase copies – if you’ve given a company several hundred to several thousand dollars to format, perhaps proof read, and set up your work in a POD model, then sold you a few hundred copies or promised you, for a fee, that you’d receive a blurb in some promotional paper somewhere – you’ve been Vanity published. If you forked over your hard earned cash to purchase a “package” of promotional materials, received a trunk load of your own book, and are under the impression you’ve just hit the big time – you’ve been Vanity published. If you’ve fallen for the idea that giving someone money will cause you to become a Published Writer of Books – you’ve been Vanity published.

If your book wouldn’t exist without you having cracked open your checkbook, you’ve been Vanity published.

If this makes you happy, then I’m happy for you. Some people enjoy being Vanity published, have the cash to spend, and get pleasure out of doing it. Vanity in it’s many forms has separated humans from their cash since Time began, and will continue to do so until we are all dust and silicone implants.

Vanity publishing isn’t bringing down the industry, ruining anyone’s chances for legitimate or Indie publishing, or “dumbing down” the reading public. Vanity has no effect whatsoever on traditional publishing because it never, ever, not even once, sits on the shelf next to a traditional title. The only way a Vanity published book makes it into the bookstore is if the author carries it in his or her self. Book buyers never see them, never know they exist.

Right now, a bunch of writers and wannabes have their panties in a bunch because the traditional romance publisher Harlequin is offering up vanity publishing. I’ve seen posts and blogs decrying the end of life as we know it, the dilution of a time-honored brand, and whoa-is-me fears of rubbing elbows with the unwashed.

Vanity has existed for a long, long time, and it hasn’t ruined traditional publishing yet. Again, those books don’t sit on the shelves in the bookstores. They’re not promoted, they don’t even get within sniffing distance of the NYT best sellers list. Oprah wouldn’t even stoop over to kick one aside.

In other words – OMG what’s the BFD?

Did you all forget Publishing is a business? And Business exist to make money. And there’s money to be made in Vanity publishing. Craptons of it. Too many writers and writer-hopefuls have a very exalted view of writing and the business of publishing that, frankly, just isn’t true. They should be more upset by the fact that most of the publishing houses now are really owned by only a very few mega conglomorates. Business people who probably haven’t read a fiction title since they were in Jr. High.

Now, how does Vanity differ from Self or Indie publishing?

Simple. No money exchanges hands.

The Self published author is using POD, via Lulu or Createspace or whathaveyou, to make their novel available to the buying public. They’ve done their own editing, proofing and formatting. They’ve probably purchased an ISBN (more on that further down this post) and they still own every single copyright allocated to their work. A Self published author hasn’t spent a single dime. The only expense is if he or she wanted to purchase a copy for themselves.

What about an Indie published author? What’s the difference, then, between Self publishing and Indie publishing?

That’s simple, too, and it boils down to a personal choice.

Where the Self published author will have used Lulu, or Createspace, et al, to purchase/supply an ISBN for their book – the Indie author hasn’t.

If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll remember that if you allow Lulu or Createspace or whoever you’re using to assign the ISBN to your book – they own that ISBN. You haven’t given up any rights, but they own your ISBN number. So while you’re a Self published author, there’s a tiny little piece of your work that you don’t own.

Is that a big deal? Only you can answer that. I say no, it’s not, but it’s a very personal choice and has some ramifications, mostly involving price. Let Lulu put an ISBN on your book, for instanct, and not only do they own that, they’re going to jack up the price of your book for the privilege of being listed in Bowkers and available to all chain retail outlets. Your paperback just went from retailing at $14.95 to a retail price of $37.95 – with all of the added profit going everywhere but your wallet.

The Indie author has either purchased his/her own ISBN, listing him/her self as the publisher of record – or – has opted not to bother with an ISBN altogether.

That, again, is a personal choice. There is no right or wrong here, including Vanity. If you realize what you’re getting when you dive in, and desire to swim in that pool regardless, then there IS no right or wrong. There is no inferior or superior, either.

And yes, I’m talking to you Traditionally published writers, as well. You’re not better than the Vanity, Self or Indy – you’re simply Different. You are Other Than. The Traditional author’s novel has been vetted by an agent, and editor, and a publishing company – and will get to spend a little time sitting on a bookstore shelf.  That is an important distinction, but not the golden ticket to Wonkaville.

The Self published, the Indie published, and even the Vanity people, are vetted by the reading public. They do not sit on bookstore shelves, but they are also not subject to remaindering. They’re not going to reach the NYT best seller list, but sometimes they sell more copies than a mid list author. They won’t get shiny display space in Barnes & Noble, but they won’t be removed from the shelf to make room for the next big title, either. Among the Self and Indies are just as many gems as the Traditionals, and just as many steaming piles of illiterate goo as the Traditionals (it’s all a matter of taste, determined by each individual reader). Which is why some love Twilight while others would rather scoop out their corneas with a soup spoon.

I have more to say about ISBN’s and why I’ve chosen not to use them, but I’ll save that for the next post. Until then,

Power to the People!

Make Love, not War!

No way are those boobs real!

First let me say, I love Dell computers. I have two Inspirons and a Dell Mini, and absolutely love them – as far as hardware goes, I’ve had no issues at all, and I’ve had other computers. Compaq, Gateway, even a custom-made number that caught on fire one morning and burned (melted) to the ground.

I love Dell’s COMPUTERS.

Lately, I’ve grown to hate Dell.

When I buy my computers, I like to purchase them directly from Dell, instead of buying them in a store somewhere. Mostly because you can customize every aspect of the hardware and software, and also because back in the day, that was the only way you could get a Dell, and I got used to that.

Several weeks ago now, I purchased a Dell Mini – in purple – to use as an external hard drive storage, and a mobile toy. It’s adorable, at only 2lbs it’s a lot easier to carry to a coffee shop for a day of writing than my 15lb Inspirons, and with the added battery I had Dell install, I can go without plugging in to the mothership for nearly 11 hours.

And yes, I bought it direct. In the stores, you could only get the Mini in black, and they didn’t have the spare battery, or the software I wanted. So I bought direct, knowing full well what that would mean . . . as in, extra added shite I’d have to delete right out of the box.

See, Dell loves to put on “extras” that you don’t want, don’t need, and really REALLY don’t want to leave on there. There’s the usual, stuff like McAfee, the industry’s worst anti-virus anti-spyware software available. Trial versions of things like MSN and Quickbooks, and that annoying and spy-ridden Google Toolbar thingie.

But Dell also likes to sneak this little program on there, called the Dell Experience or something (I forget the exact name) and that’s where the trouble starts.

See, the Dell Experience thingie looks, for all intents and purposes, like a helpful little tool, standing ready to assist you in teaching your computer what you’d like it to do. The first thing it wants to teach you is how to play Spy On Me. This little game is really played by Dell only, you’re just an unwilling participant. It’s a game that sends Dell every little tidbit of information about your day. When you go online, where you GO when you’re online, what you click on, who you talk to, what you buy, where you wander when you’re wandering, what you use your computer for, what programs you use, what you DO, every little keystroke.  It’s like a little reverse Lojack.

It’ll just sit there, happily eating up your hard drive, slowing down your computer, and spying on your every single move. Then all of that information is relayed to the Dell mothership, where it’s digested, and most likely sold for all we know. They say it’s for enhancing your experience. They tell you it’s for diagnosing things, and optimizing your computer for YOU. They say all sorts of things. Double-plus good!

Dell started doing this, well at least back to 2006 when I bought my last Inspiron. That’s when I found this new little program for the first time, and removed it before ever taking my new laptop online. I scrubbed that sucker clean off, then after removing all the other flotsam and jetsam Dell automatically loads, my new laptop was a speedy little camper, allowed to surf and work under the protection of better spyware and virus condoms.

Low and behold, two months after that, I got a call from India. Seems they’d noticed I hadn’t taken my new Dell Inspiron on the Internet as of yet, and they were here to happily assist me in learning how to surf the web and enjoy all the benefits I wasn’t using with my new laptop.

I explained to the nice lady that I had, in fact, been online for months now, after having deleted her company’s spyware. She muttered something about not realizing that could be done, and hung up.

For years, I’ve looked back at that and chuckled, and didn’t give it a lot of thought. Then when my new Dell Mini arrived, I knew to look for that same software program, found it (it will happily inform you that it’s going to send data about you and your computing needs directly back to the mothership, if you bother to read that screen) – and once again scrubbed my new computer clean. Then removed all the other garbage that was added “for my benefit” and got some real protection, then allowed the new little fella online.

Then it happened. I expected it, really, but at the time my mind was on so many other things that at first, I had no idea who this man on the phone was, and how he knew I had a new Dell Mini. These guys aren’t calling from India anymore, they’re calling from so far deep South I can’t understand a word they’re saying, and I even have relatives in Alabama! Then, after saying something rude and hanging up on him, I realized that was someone from Dell asking if he could please assist me in getting the most out of my new Dell purchase by learning how to get online.

Fark.

Well I figured, having hung up on him, it was in the past.

Until the next day, when another phone call came, this time a woman, from Dell, deep southern accent and talking as fast as a teenage girl on crack, once again wishing to ascertain how my day was going so far, was I in good health? Was I enjoying my new Dell Mini, and would I like her to assist me in going online?

I said something rude, I don’t remember what exactly (I have no patience for stuff like this) and told her never to call me again.

The next day, another man called. From Dell (do they have a Bayou office?). Asking how my day was going. I told him where he could go, and that he might need sunscreen, then told him never to call me again (they’re calling work, mind you, not home)

The next day, another one. Another woman. I didn’t even let her finish her “Hello”.

Today, another one. I demanded they stop calling, that if they phoned me one more time, I would never, as long as I lived, purchase another single thing from Dell.

I know they’ll call again tomorrow.

Maybe my next computer will be a Mac. Either way, I pity the sap who’ll be on the other end of the phone when they call again, because I’m not going to hang up until someone’s bleeding.  Unreasonable and silly?  Maybe, but being paranoid keeps me safe, and keeps shite off my computers. I prefer the shoot first, bury ‘em later approach to life.

Power to the People!

Make Love, not War!

“Hello, I was a PC. One more phone call from Dell, and I’ll be a Mac.”

So I’ve just created my first hardcover book, my older title When The Stars Walk Backwards, and I have to say I’m stunned at the size.  I don’t expect any sales, honestly, I just did this for myself and decided there was no reason not to make it available to anyone who might want it – but honestly it’s so huge the price is outrageous.  I had to lessen the font size just so Lulu could make a hard copy. They draw the limit at 800 pages, and this whopping tome came out at 867 pages !

After some fussing and shrinking, I finally managed somewhere around 738 pages, in hardback, with a dust cover.  Hopefully it turned out as nice as it seems, but rest assured – you could kill an intruder with this thing.  Unfortunately that also means it’s not cheap. By eliminating any profit on my part, I was able to keep it under $30.00, but seriously, that’s ridiculous.

The one thing I am proud to show off is the cover – I’ve found making covers to be incredible fun!  So, if you’re curious and want to see how pretty When The Stars Walk Backwards is, it’s now available at my Midnight Reading Lulu store.  If the sticker price makes you dizzy – well – you’re not alone!  But honestly, I really did this just for my own sake.  A bit of nostaligia, for a novel that represents a beginning, an indulgence, and just plain fun.

I’d been thinking, for some time now about doing this – and having toyed around a bit with some cover art and designs, I’ve finally decided that I’m going to release an older novel of mine in hardback just in time for the holidays.

Now, this isn’t anything new – in fact, it’s been around the block a few times, even on this very blog. It’s an older novel called When The Stars Walk Backwards, and was featured right here, a chapter at a time, a little over a year go (give or take). In the past, I’ve gone as far as to make apologies for this novel, having written it so long ago, and having grown stronger as a writer since then. But honestly, I’ll never feel the need to apologize for the story I told, or the characters I created.

It’s not War and Peace, but it’s not heaving bosoms of lusty vampire angst, either.

It won’t be available on the Midnight Reading website, and it won’t be made available it eBook form (at least not right away). I don’t want anyone confusing this novel for something I’ve just written, and I don’t expect – honestly – many sales at all. Mainly I’m doing this for my own benefit, and making it available for those who have taken the trouble of asking me in the past.

So, for those of you who always had a soft spot in your hearts for When The Stars Walk Backward, you’ll be happy to know the hard cover will be available via Lulu shortly (I’m just working out some kinks and details in the design and back flap). For those of you who prefer not to sample my writing from 11 years ago, just keep enjoying In The Time Of Dying until something new comes out in 2010.

And in honor of Veteran’s Day here in America – everyone thank a service man or woman today. And if you’re a veteran, or currently serving in any branch of our fine Armed Services – I just want to say,

Thank You!

Power to the People!

Make Love, Not War!

Give a Veteran some Tongue Today!

For my fine ferreted friend Ed who was wondering what, exactly, is DRM – I figured a quick explanation might be in order.

DRM stands for Digital Rights Management, but it may as well mean Don’t Read Me ! It’s a method of encryption that prevents a file from being user friendly, and assumes everyone in the three universes are criminals, hell-bent on breaking the law and stealing money right outta your pockets.

And I’m not really exaggerating, honest.

A file protected by DRM can’t be opened by other applications, shared with people freely and openly, or altered in any way, shape or form. It was created for the paranoid who believe that the internet was created for porn, the world is flat, the moon is made of cheese and everyone is a thief.

Lemme give an example:

You bought a book (let’s say my latest In The Time Of Dying) it’s big and thick and has a lovely cover (hey, it’s my blog) and you’re all excited about sitting down on the couch with a hot buttered rum, propping your feet on the coffee table and cracking that sucker open.

Only you get halfway in to Chapter 2 and the kids come running into the room and turn on the TV. They’ve brought a big bowl of popcorn and just slipped in the DVD of Transformers 2, in surround. Well you’ve been drinking hot buttered rum, which frankly would make anyone a little queasy around popcorn and kids, and Transformers 2 is so loud you can’t hear yourself think.

So you get up, gather your mug of rum and your copy of In The Time Of Dying, and head out to the other room. You get comfy in the recliner, take a sip of rum and . . . can’t open the book!

Try as you might, you can’t pry the cover open. It’s just a paperback! You haven’t had that much to drink! What’s going on? You shake it, you flip it back and forth, you try again, but it won’t open!

Then you notice a little tiny print warning on the back: “This copy for Couch Reading Only.”

You’ve purchased a book that you can ONLY read on the couch, in the family room. When your wife walks by, you hand the book to her and ask if she can open it, and she can’t. Then she notices the warning – this book can only be read on the couch. She doesn’t want to go near the family room and the Transformers 2 noise, so she carries your book to the living room and sits on the pretty couch you barely use, but she can’t open the book!

WTF? She’s on a couch! Why can’t she open the book? It says right there “For couch reading only” But then she has a closer look.

Apparently that copy of In The Time Of Dying (stop it with the plugs already!) is only for reading on the couch IN THE FAMILY ROOM.

Frustrated, you grab the book and storm back to the family room, ignoring the din that is Transformers 2 on the surround, sit down on the couch, and damn if that book doesn’t just flop right open to your spot in the middle of chapter 2! Now you’re so frustrated, your blood pressure went up and it’s clouding your vision just a tad. You don’t really want to go find your glasses, so you bring the book closer to your face to make the text larger and BAM! It pushes itself further back.

Seems you’re not allowed to increase the size of the text. And don’t even think about turning on that reading light! You didn’t purchase a lighting option!

Well that’s a right pisser, ain’t it?

If you’d downloaded a copy of In The Time Of Dying from Smashwords, you’d have a DRM-Free copy, that allows you to read the book on your laptop on the couch, or from your Kindle at the kitchen table, or on the toilet using your PDA. You could even read it on the bus from your smartphone.

AND – if you were to find it so entertaining that you simply had to share, and really felt like screwing the author out of her $1.40, you could email that book to your friend, who doesn’t have a Kindle or a PDA or even a smartphone, but he could read it on his Sony eReader or his desktop computer.

(or you could buy a hard copy and read it in the tub, on a plane, in the kitchen, in bed, in the car, on your easy chair, at your desk, in the waiting room . . . )

Many people believe DRM is the savior of the universe, and will bring an end to illegal file sharing. It prevents Joe from buying a book, reading it, then loaning it to Kim, Karen, Frank and Earl. It also prevents Joe from taking his Kindle eBook and reading it on his laptop. Or taking his PDA-copy and sending it to his crackberry.

The rest of us see DRM as the most user un-friendly way to alienate your reading public.

Everyone has their own opinion, and should. But for me, it was very important to find a way to offer up my work in a DRM-Free environment. Does it mean sometimes people who didn’t pay for my book will get copies?

Sure.

Do small children steal candy? Yes.

Are all children candy thieves?

Obviously not. And having previously stated that I’m not writing for money, I can reiterate here that it means more to me to have Readers than Buyers. I wouldn’t post my work for free on the internet if writing for money was my only goal. I WANT Joe to buy a copy of the eBook In The Time Of Dying, fall in love with it, and loan it to Kim, who sends it to Karen, who emails it to Frank who has to share it with Earl. Because out of those four who’ve just read it without paying me, maybe one of them will love it so much they’ll buy a hard copy for themselves, or as a gift to someone else.

Of those four who’ve just read it for free, maybe three of them will come back and read my other work. Maybe two of them will follow me, and read new work as it’s published.

And maybe they’ll tell two friends, who tell two friends . . .

The music industry wasn’t prepared for the internet, and the resulting implosion created a thing we call Digital Rights Management.

In the publishing industry, it might as well stand for Don’t Read Me

So this week, just a couple of days ago, I signed up with Smashwords and published In The Time Of Dying through them as a cross-platform eBook, completely DRM-free, and I gotta say, it couldn’t have been easier.

All you have to do is sign up for an account – completely free – then read their formatting guidelines. It’s very important that you follow the formatting guidelines to the letter, in order for your eBook to work in all formats and have the professional, readable image you’re striving for.

The guidelines are a snap for anyone at all familiar with writing. Honestly, it’s just a matter of stripping your document of all the formatting garbage that Word has piled on, which can be done two ways:

Follow their step by step process to identify formatting issues and alter them one at a time.

OR

Copy and paste your entire Word .doc into Notepad and then back again to Word, then add the required front copyright notice and edition page. Notepad, or Wordpad will strip all the formatting right out of a document for you.

After that, you simply log in to your Smashwords account, publish your document, add a cover and some descriptive information, chose how much of your work will be offered as a free sample – the default was 50 percent, but I switched mine to 25. I figure if they wanna read it for free, it’s on the webpage.

In your Smashwords account, you can upload a profile image, and type in your biography, even direct people to your website or your Lulu account where they could purchase hard copies of the work.

You also set the price, just like Lulu they’ll show you right away what portion they’re keeping, so you can adjust the price accordingly. And since it’s a non-exclusive contract, I kept the eBook price there the same as at Lulu, so neither are in competition for price.

After that, it’s just a matter of giving Smashwords some payment information – they’re perfectly happy sending money to your Paypal account – and you’re set.

You can view how many times your sample has been downloaded, how many sales you’ve made, and you’ll get to see what other author profiles were looked at by people who’ve read yours.

It’s interesting, useful for us Indy authors, and I was making sales the very next morning. If your work qualifies (and in order to qualify you simply follow the format guidelines, provide a professional-looking cover art and own the work) then you’re listed in the Sony e-reader catalog.

But the best part about Smashwords is, not only do they create an eBook for the Kindle, the Sony eReader, the iPhone and Smartphones, they’re also – all – completely DRM-Free. Eventually I plan to have all of my novels available through Smashwords, so they’re more widely available and freely distributed.

When you’re an Indy, you need to utilize every avenue available for marketing and getting your novel out there, to the reading public, making the purchase of your book as effortless as possible. So far, Smashwords seems to be a fine addition to any Indy tool box.

Power to the People!

Make Love, Not War!

Did I just step in cat yak?

Aka: My final decision on ISBN’s

So this weekend, in case you didn’t realize, I’ve published my newest novel In The Time Of Dying. I went the usual Lulu route, and I’m also going to try Smashwords for the eBook as well as Lulu.

I sat down on Saturday to create the hardcopy, and decided I was curious enough to see what it would be like to choose the Lulu option of a free ISBN (owned by Lulu) so as I was preparing to upload the formatted file, I clicked that box instead of the usual. At first, it all seemed very normal. They wanted me to read the licensing agreement that said Lulu would be the owner of the ISBN assigned to my novel, and while I would own the novel and all the rights, the number would always be theirs.

This wasn’t news. I knew this, and I’ve discussed it here at length. There are pros and cons to taking this approach, and neither one is right or wrong – it’s a personal choice.

So to further my curiosity, I picked the option that would put my novel out in the wilds of the Bookselling Marketplace. And by that, I mean any retailer dumb enough to be willing to stock or order it !

Things were moving along just fine. I was a little peeved by Lulu’s insistence at this stage that I would have to purchase, review, and approve my hardcopy before it would be made available – due to the ISBN assignment and all. The reason that peeved me was because I wanted it released NOW, and had been too busy to get this done any sooner.

But then it happened. I’d reached the stage of setting the price and I was confronted by a real surprise.

Because assigning an ISBN would place my novel in the general Marketplace, where retailers could order it – and return it – and discount it – and offer it up for whatever price they felt like it – - the list price to sell my 665 page Trade Paperback would be no less than $34.95.

WTF?

Yeah, $34.95 for a Trade Paperback, 665 pages.

Oh, sure, they’d automatically granted me a profit of $13.40 whether I wanted it or not, but they’d given me no option to remove that, which would have altered the final sale price. No, they set that all in stone, and when I clicked the “What’s This?” link I was directed to a very convoluted, and frankly confusing, explanation of Retail, Remander, Returns, Sale Prices, Discounts, Profit Margin, and I’m pretty sure there was a line in there about blood, turnips and first borns.

My momentary freak-out included a panic that Lulu had undergone some sort of catastrophic change in pricing, and that a novel I would have priced UNDER $20.00 would now, regardless of choice, be sold at prices even I wouldn’t pay.

Fearing that was the case, I backed all the way out of there, started again from scratch, and followed my routine – choosing NO ISBN at all, like all the others. I followed my usual steps, and when I finally reached the pricing section I was once again in familiar territory.

So long as I did not want my book to contain an ISBN of my own or Lulu’s possession, and so long as I didn’t care if Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Joe Blow’s Books and Tea Emporium could stock, discount, or return my novel – I could price my lovely little Trade Paperback of 665 pages at a modest $19.05

What does this all mean?

Well, I’ve made my decision about ISBN’s for one. They’re an antiquated tracking system designed for the “man” to keep track of things hardly anyone keeps track of any longer. They’re markers of a dusty system that is going to have to grow with the times, or find itself obsolete.

Which is to say, I’m not interested.

I can’t see what an arbitrary number will do for me, aside from forcing me to charge ridiculous prices for my novels and ensuring zero sales. Or offering up a profit margin for booksellers who can then return the purchase for full refunds. ISBN’s don’t guarantee sales, or reviews, or even any sort of respect.

Low prices and well written novels are the only avenue to sales and building readership. Consistency and reliability garner return visits, quality stories win a writer respect. So from this lesson, I’ve come to the definitive conclusion that ISBN’s are not for me. I’m going to remain fully and completely Independent. Forging my own way, good, bad or indifferent.

Your mileage may vary

Power to the People!

Make Love, Not War!

Buy my new Book!

Earth was used up, and humanity had a choice – leave, or perish. And so they left, in great ships full of colonists and scientists, with soldiers to protect them all.  Hurling through space in a timeless sleep. Waiting for the ship’s computers to find their new home and wake them.

But when they wake, they realize things have gone horribly wrong. They aren’t where they should be. The ship has malfunctioned and landed them on an alien planet not even on the charts. A world bathed in permanent darkness due to an unusual orbit.

After a single night of fire, death, sabotage and destruction, this world is now their home.

They’ll have to make a life here without going mad in the eternal darkness. A task made even more dangerous when they realize they’re not alone.

Buy the book, or read Online as chapters are posted.

It was Spring, 2009, and my body was beginning to do things I didn’t much care for, but like most of us tend to do, I chose to ignore it for a while. “It’ll clear up,” I figured. Only three months later, when it hadn’t, I decided it was foolish of me to be avoiding the doctor, after all – I have excellent health insurance.

So in I went, and after a few rather unpleasant tests, and what turned out to be a smooth surgical procedure (one of those nice day-surgery visits) I was on the road to recovery.

What I hadn’t counted on were the biopsy results. Early Stage Endometrial Cancer, is the fancy description they gave me, and while I spent a solid 24 hours in a slight panic, after talking to my doctor the next day I was relieved to hear that they might have already removed it all during the procedure. All I needed to do was return in six months for another biopsy, and if it’s coming back, a nice tidy hysterectomy should take care of things. If it’s not returning, another six month check would be in order, but it was likely I’d dodged a bullet, as it were.

So I relaxed. In the past two years, I’ve had friends and in-laws diagnosed with some pretty terrifying cancers, a few have died, a few are terminal, and just that word – CANCER – was enough to unnerve me.

But then, not even a month later, my sister confessed to feeling a lump in her breast. She’s unemployed, and has no insurance at all, and had been pretending it wasn’t there for three weeks until she finally couldn’t stand the stress any longer.

We decided to remain calm, but we couldn’t ignore this. Our mother had pre-cancerous cysts and a double mastectomy in the early 1980’s and we knew these things could turn serious. So she went to see her doctor, and we paid out of pocket for an exam, then found out that she’d need a mammogram and ultrasound – and they’d “go from there.”

Well there was nothing else we could do, we’d have to get her the tests and pay out of pocket.

So she went in. The two tests would come to $400 and they only needed a $100 initial payment. We knew if there would be a biopsy required, that could run us into the thousands, but after some worried consideration and final resignation, we knew that if the clinic would allow us to make payments, we’d get by.

And sure enough – the tests showed a solid mass that would require a needle biopsy for further evaluation. Her doctor phoned up, and told us that just to see the specialist – just to walk in the door – would run $700. Not including the procedure, or the lab. And if this turned out to be cancer, we were looking at hundreds of thousands of dollars out-of-pocket.

That sent us reeling a bit, I don’t mind admitting. With her on unemployment, I’m the sole bread winner, and while we’re getting by, we’re not exactly as comfortable as we’re used to being. But what could we do?

That’s when her doctor really came through. She told us that thanks to the Susan B. Komen Breast Cancer Society, the mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy would be covered through the Health Department. Then, if the results required further surgery, she would be referred to Swedish Hospital here in Seattle where everything would be paid for.

The next week was filled with some tension. She had to make an appointment with the Health Department to meet with a Nurse Practitioner and fill out paperwork, in order to qualify for the free care she had to prove she was unemployed and had no source of income beyond unemployment checks.

That done, she was scheduled for a biopsy the following week.

Seeing how nervous she was, and knowing how nervous I’d felt myself, I took to assuring her of all the things this could turn out to be. After all, there are a number of reasons for a woman to find a lump or abnormality in her breast, most of which are NOT cancer. Women can form various cysts, or fibrous tissue, clogged glands, simple infections. There was no reason for us to panic, I told her many times. This was a single lump, very shallow, located just under the skin, and it would turn out to be nothing.

I spent that week convincing her we had nothing to worry about. Then, I used this little scare to finally go in and have my own very first mammogram. My doctor had been urging me to do this for years, and I admit I’d been avoiding having it done simply out of fear that they might find “something” and I’d have to deal with it.

I knew, for years, I wasn’t going to be able to deal with it. So I let ignorance be my bliss. There were no lumps, I told myself, my self-exams were always normal. My yearly physicals were always normal. Nothing to worry about, right?

So out of solidarity, while we awaited my sister’s appointment, I went in for my first mammogram.

I was nervous, I admit. After changing into the gown, the technician took me into this little room, with dim lighting, lovely photos of roses on the walls. There was soft mood music playing, and thick, pretty curtains covering the window, all designed to keep the patient calm and relaxed. The technician was very personable, explaining everything she was doing. I calmed down quite a bit, and we chatted while she took the images. It’s not a pleasant experience, but it’s certainly tolerable for the few seconds it takes.

Afterward, as I sat in the dressing room waiting to hear if the images were good enough, I felt very calm and rather pleased with myself for finally having done it. I knew, in the back of my mind, that breast cancer is more and more a survivable thing. And that early detection, as in all cancers, is the key. I also knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there was nothing wrong with me. After all, I’d just been told a few weeks ago that I had early stage endometrial cancer, so nothing else was going to happen.

One cancer’s enough for anyone, right?

A few minutes later, I was told the images were fine, and that I’d be called the next week if the doctor wanted more images, otherwise I could come back in two years.

Happy, and feeling pleased with my own sense of bravery, I left, and for the rest of that weekend continued to assure my sister that she had nothing to worry about. We figured she’d have her biopsy, find out it was benign, and then relax and enjoy the Fall.

Then I got a phone call.

They wanted me back to have another look at “something” they found on one side. So I made an appointment for the next week, and then went all white.

I remember feeling cold, and scared, and then for a couple of hours my brain just went wild. I began to quickly research what this could mean, and ended up on way too many cancer websites, painting myself a terrifying picture of what the future could hold.

It was easy to ignore the nurse’s words on the phone “This does not mean you have cancer, it could be any number of simple things.” And it was even easier to ignore all the information I was finding that told me, first and foremost, not to panic. But slowly, over the next few hours, it did begin to sink it. I realized I couldn’t very well try to convince my sister she had nothing to worry about if I wasn’t willing to believe that myself.

So I put it aside, as best I could, and eventually the time came for my sister’s biopsy. Our mother came along, nervous as she could be, and I’d already decided I wasn’t going to tell her about my call-back. It was enough to deal with, having her upset over one daughter, there was no sense bothering her with another when it all might well be nothing.

My sister’s biopsy went just fine, and she was given a 3-4 day wait for the results. So we returned to our habit of assuring each other these things were nothing, just benign little growths, and we’d be just fine. But then Wednesday rolled around and it was time for me to go in and get more pictures done.

I was slowly freaking out, I admit, and by the time I was sitting in the dressing room waiting, I was pretty stressed. The technician took two more films, and I sat and waited to hear if that was enough, my mind racing and trying hard to think of the novel I’m writing, or the pendants my sister was making at home, anything but what was going on. Then the technician came in – the doctor wanted two more films – so we did it again, and again I sat waiting.

I soon grew tired of toying with my fingernails, so I found a tie on the gown I was wearing and started to wrap that around a finger, over and over, back and forth, concentrating on nothing at all and everything I could think of. Any second now, she was going to come in and tell me it was all good, they’d finally seen that there was nothing there, and I could go home.

Any second now.

I’d be on my way home.

Then she came in – he wanted two more films, a slightly different angle. The stress was starting to really get to me. Why couldn’t they see what they were looking at? What was taking so long? Was there something there, or not?

I played with the little tie some more, felt a little faint off and on, started to worry a bit. Then she came back in.

“We need to do an ultrasound,” she said. “There’s something there they just can’t get a good look at. But don’t worry, just breathe, try to relax, it’s probably nothing.”

“Probably nothing,” I told myself as I got dressed, then waited for another technician to come take me to the ultrasound room. Once there, it was disrobe again, and let a student come in to watch. Oh joy. At least this time I could see what they were seeing, a little black circle on the ultrasound screen. Just barely under the skin, and completely contained.

A cyst? Well, maybe. Although . . . So the doctor comes in, and he has a look, also not completely sure what he was looking at, although he kept telling me it could just be a cyst or something similar.

“We need to do a needle biopsy,” he says finally, “So we’ll schedule you for next week. Could be a cyst, could be a cancer, but it could be a cyst. Although it might be a cancer, but it could be a cyst. There’s no ductile involvement, so it hasn’t gone anywhere else.”

My head was spinning. It’s like they want you to realize this could be something, but they’re required to reassure you that it could be nothing. I made it home and told my sister, and we both agreed it was best not to tell our mother. After all, it could still be nothing.

Today she got her results.

My sister has breast cancer. She’s at the Health Department as I type this, filling out some paperwork in order to get referred and have the costs picked up by the Department of Social and Health Services.

So how does this scary story end? I don’t know yet. It’s still in the making, so tune in at the end of the month, and I’ll finishing telling the tale. In the meantime, in honor of Cancer Awareness Month – get tested.

Man or woman, get tested. Early detection really IS the key to a cure. Awareness is Knowledge, and Knowledge is Power.