I've known all along this could happen, like death, and I've tried to prepare myself. But as it gets closer and closer, every day without a sale, I'm no more resigned than I ever was.
My book is about to hit the one millionth mark. On Amazon. The sales rank, that is, NOT, my dear friends, the sales.
I've seen it happen to others, and I've even gloated with shameful schadenfreude as the books of people even MORE famous than me sunk into seven digits -- books that have won awards, books that were reviewed in the New York Times, even books of people I was once married to.
As the dreaded milestone approached several times, I was saved at the last moment -- the last time, when I'd hit 957,000, by a mystery buyer. Ted swore it wasn't him -- offended at the very suggestion that he would intefere with his woman's Amazon rank. And he made me swear it wasn't, well, me. I swore.
Now I'm at 805,000 again, and I just know this is the time it's gonna happen.
I have a couple of printouts to prove the book hit 5 digits several times -- hovering at glorious 45,000th in the halycon days right after it came out. It has plunged into that lush territory a couple of times since -- usually for about three minutes right after a single buyer ponies up. Not that I'm constantly watching, you understand. But it's like going through one of my childhood home towns, Nellie or Blissfield -- you have to be constantly watching or you'll miss it. (OK, I just didn't want to say "blink" this time. But what a nice concise verb, what a fun cliche!)
I don't know what I'll do when it happens. I'm better off without lurid Bushmill's binges, I've learned. Maybe I'm better off without my Amazon bookmark, without my trigger finger on the tormenting mouse. I know, I know, on to the next thing, the next book, the next act of audacity and hope.
It's just that, I still love my baby and I haven't quite cut the apron strings. Here's her pretty cover, if you want to make my day and buy, buy, buy:
And this helpful link:
Not a hero
5 years ago