Hi Reader,
I'm not a gambler.
But I kinda love watching people bet—the more, the better. It's fascinating and kind of dark. A study in human behavior.
By the way, that's a writer thing. Standing around—watching people.
I once stood next to a guy and watched him lose an absurd amount at a blackjack table at a resort in the Bahamas. It was an absolute train wreck that, apparently, the idiot could afford.
The dealers rotated and I asked him how he was doing.
"Down a quarter mil."
"When do you call it a night?"
"Another quarter mil."
I told him how bad he was probably going to feel the next morning after losing half a million dollars at the tables.
"But...maybe you'd feel better paying off my mortgage," I said.
That's when they kicked me out of the casino.
Worth a try, right?
I don't gamble because I'm competitive, I hate losing, and I don't like the odds.
That doesn't mean I haven't taken risks. I started a few businesses that turned out okay, but man, they felt like huge gambles at the time.
So what does this have to do with being an author?
Because I'm making a bet. And if it doesn't work out, it might be an expensive lesson in hubris.
I just lowered the price of Fortunate Son's ebook from $4.99 to 99¢. Nothing crazy about that.
You're wondering what I make when I sell a book for under a buck.
If it's sold on Amazon, I make 35¢. Direct from my store, I make about 66¢.
I hope that doesn't sound like bragging.
You gotta sell a lot of 35¢ books to pay an electric bill.
So what's worse than pricing your book for a pittance?
Spending money advertising your 99¢ ebook.
I see you squinting over there. "Well, I guess it could work if he paid pennies to advertise it."
Nope. Looks like I'm running about $3.20 to sell one copy of Fortunate Son.
"Say what?"
That's right. And my royalty?
Still 35¢.
"We'll make it up in volume," as the saying goes.
You might be wondering if I've lost my marbles. Possibly. I'll let you know in six months.
Welcome to the blackjack table. You've got a great seat to see what happens next.
I know what you're thinking.
"I wouldn't call this gambling, Andy. I'd call it stupid."
Fair. But hear me out.
I'm hoping to get more than seven nickels for my advertising spend.
I'm playing the long game—lose some money fast and pray to make it up later.
Stop calling me stupid.
I'm paying to find Emma Noble fans. Maybe even Andrew Bridgeman fans.
Why do I think this will work?
My read-through is good.
That's how many people read Fortunate Son and then go on to A Noble Sin.
How many will continue to Noble Reckoning?
Not sure.
That's the math and the gamble.
I've dissected, boiled, dried out, and chewed on all my numbers for the past two books.
If my numbers are right, I could even spend a bit more than $3.20 to advertise a 99¢ ebook.
Possibly.
What I know for sure is that, in the end, I have no control.
It's all up to Emma Noble. She has to do the heavy lifting. She's got to earn the next sale.
What I can do is pay attention to my costs and hope for the best. Because if I'm wrong and this doesn't work out...
I'm spending $3.20 to make 35¢.
Repeatedly.
Yeah. That does sound pretty dumb when you say it out loud.
But if readers enjoy the books and keep reading? This thing might work. In the next six months, it will have become clear if I'm a genius or a poorer version of myself.
Gambling or math?
We'll see what the readers decide. Because if they don't keep reading... I suppose I've found a form of gambling dumb enough to require an executive MBA.
Here's a teaser:
What if the FBI told you the crime of the century—the kidnapping everyone knew about—was you?
In five days, your birth mother will be inaugurated Vice President of the United States.
And the reason you’ve finally been found is the first step in a terrorist plot.
Welcome to Fortunate Son.
⭐️ 4.5 stars and over 3500 ratings on Amazon & Goodreads
If you're interested, click the link below.
If enough of you buy directly from my site, I can get a coffee next week. 😎
I hope you have a wonderful weekend.
Happy Friday!
Andy
