For the longest time it was my dream to have my first novel Untold published. After spending years searching for a publisher in vain, I decided to take matters into my own hands and self-publish. I’m not against self publishing . . . especially when it involves oddball genres. Self publishing was a mistake for this book, though. I worked with a company that promised the stars, delivered next to nothing, and took a large chunk of money from me in the process. Some editing was done on the book, but in truth I was such a young author back then that the story really needed a good overhaul.
And then there was the yearly sucker-tax maintenance fee. I had to pay $50 a year to make sure my book was still in print. Untold has never made more than $50 a year except the first year where I think I made about $275 . . . which didn’t even put a dent in the fees I paid to get the thing published in the first place.
I’ve paid the fee for the past two years mostly out of my desire to have the book still in print for the two to six people who purchase the book every year.
Now it is time for Untold to retire, though. Maybe I’ll re-write the work someday . . . or maybe I’ll just finish the audio drama based in the same world and then let these characters go for good. I don’t know. But I do know that it is time to put this dream to rest.
The last remnants can be ordered here.
And so I leave you with the saddest word in the English language: Ephemeral.
