My life has taken a sudden turn.  I got old.  No longer do I make appointments to interview people for magazine articles or books, jump in my car, enter the destination address into the GPS and and cruise confidently along to spend some time with a fascinating interviewee. I sold my car almost a year after my husband died.  I decided that ninety was a good time to hand the keys over to someone else.

But that’s not the main cause of my discontent.  I don’t think that book resellers are fair to authors locally.  When they want a supply of books, maybe six or even three, they expect to call the author, place their order, expect a thirty-five or forty percent discount and free delivery.  They are to pay for them after they are sold, of course.

I don’t want to play that game. The one I want to play has the reseller going to the printer/publisher’s web page (Create for ARTISTS Of Sedona, JAVELINA (Have-uh-WHAT? and WIDOWHOOD HAPPENS; for THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT CAVE CREEK (It’s The People); and for FROM THUNDER TO BREAKFAST.  You can order over the phone for Xlibris.)

ARTISTS Of Sedona didn’t get the publicity that I expected.  It was a first, for heaven’s sake— the first the first full-color, narrative, art history book written about accomplished artists who lived and worked in and around Sedona, Arizona. I’ve had some reviews that have thrilled me silly.

Part of the problem is mine. I not only don’t want to be a ninety-year delivery girl, but I also refuse to be an accountant.  The printer/publishers do that and deposit my royalties in a bank account.

If there’s  anything that makes a writer’s life easier, it’s Kindle and other tablets that can use a Kindle app.  You order it through the web page and it is zapped to you in seconds.  I sell some books in Asia—Japan, I believe, but I can’t read the receipt I get from the bank.  Still, it delights me.




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