More on Perceived Ebook Price Fixing

Today The Guardian (via Publisher's Weekly) posted an article on Apple's struggle to Defeat Amazon. More on the big, bad Amazon and efforts to justify an agency model of price threshold to perhaps guarantee the survival of other heretofore giants in the publishing industry.

There seems to be nasty growing pains at the upper echelons of the publishing world. I sense much desperation to hold a place that tended to squeeze the availability of the printed word as in narrowing the choices available, attempting to define what sells, and creating boundaries that tended to squeeze out creative, more niche, talents, and went for the sure sales. I understand the need to stall monopoly. I understand the need that in order to survive, a company, even large corporations, need to show a profit and they don't want their books becoming loss leaders for a company such as Amazon, who has broadened its merchandise scope. Really, I do understand this.

But, the costs, long-ranging, in production of ebooks versus long-ranging in production of a mass market paperback, trade paperback, hard cover, is not the same. Once that ebook is produced, one does not have to revert to more print runs, one is not subject to returns, one is not subject to landfill for books that do not sell as well as anticipated.

The argument that Amazon's market share has been reduced as a direct result of this sort of agency model is...well, suspect. Let's see, the market is flooded with all brands and models of tablets, such as Kobo, B&N, Google, Asus, HP, etc., etc. It seems to me that new consumer/readers will be purchasing as a first choice using a company that provides the app that makes it easiest to purchase what they want. In many cases, that will include discounts and gift certificates for new owners of these devices. My daughter just purchased two Nook tablets for her household, where do you think she's going to buy her books? I can't seem to find a Nook app for my Android tablet, I had a seamless download of the Kindle app. If someone has a Sony reader, or a Kobo reader, where do you thing they're going to purchase? Oh yeah, then there's the iPad. Mustn't forget that one.

I tend to be a bit savvy about techie stuff, so I'll probably be purchasing from a large range of sources, often small publishers because I know the author makes more when I do that.

I doubt I'd put the fluctuation in market share down to the agency models. That justification doesn't hold water. To me, what I see is that the consumer is caught in the cross-hairs of this battle. They are the ones who will suffer and pay the price. Right along with the authors aligned with the major publishers, especially mid-list and new talent. High prices for books mean less purchases made by the average consumer. And again, I see this particularly when you're talking about an ebook, where there is likely not the same reprint and stocking issues associated with those sales. Who's really being affected here? What is really impacting the market fluctuation? Or is it just an "I've got more clout than you and I don't care who suffers, as long as you get your wings clipped"?

I read a lot, and as I've mentioned before, it's across mediums. I have one research book on my Kindle DX, I have one short story up on my Android tablet, and I have a hard cover from one of my favorite authors. Yup, I'm into reading a bit each day from all three.

But for readers out there who want a good read, perhaps you might check with my publishers, they're always giving good deals on books. Take a minute to check out Amber Quill Press and Samhain Publishing if you want good prices for ebooks, and great stories to read, and formats that will work well on pretty much any readers, with customer service departments that are on the ball, ready to help. I'll also recommend Loose Id. Some wicked great reads from these publishers.

And now I've got to get back to writing.

Prices on Ebooks Higher Than Paperback?

Will Publishers Kill Amazon's Golden Goose?

That's the headline of a recent article via Publisher's Weekly. I've actually witnessed the higher price for an ebook when I was browsing the other day. As a reader, what this means when I see a paperback is more costly than an ebook, I'm going to pick another book. I'm still going to buy, just not YOUR book. Honestly, I think this is going to backfire on the publishers who are attempting to do this. There are just too many good stories out there at reasonable prices in ebook format. To me this is shooting yourself in the foot, and shooting your authors, too.

Sad, very sad. Please get your head out of the sand and do what's right for your authors and your readership. Honestly, I'm not likely to pay the same price for an ebook that I am for a paperback. And I'm certainly not going to pay a higher price. I will go somewhere else. There are lots of other options. I know for a fact that there are smaller publishers, with some very fantastic writers, and I will be entertained elsewhere.

This is a different market, a very digital and global world, and we need to adapt to that changing environment and marketplace. This is the age of transition, and growing pains can be very achey. But the growing does not stop just because it hurts. Really, is this "feud" more important than your readership? As a reader and as a writer, I'm thrilled about the expansion of the industry.

As a writer, I would hope the publishers I work with continue to price my books reasonably, and responsibly, so readers won't hesitate to give my stories a try. Especially if they've not read one of my stories before. Anyone heard the term "competitive pricing"? That is just savvy marketing on all levels in my opinion.

Ereaders aren't going away, tablets aren't going away, ebooks aren't going away.

Please adjust.

Just saying...

Dominoes - No, not the pizza company...

I was reading a totally unrelated research book the other day and there it was. I had a moment of epiphany or revelation regarding the third story in the Humanotica series, and suddenly it was like a row of dominoes, where you tip the first one and it starts a chain reaction. I get so excited when that happens.

It gives you this ahhh feeling, or maybe it's more of an ohhh sort of excitement. And you just lets the images keep flowing, trying to transcribe, jot them down, so you can remember for later. I stuff them into the folder, because really, I'm working on line edits for Haevyn right now and I can't get distracted by Kestra, although she's really looking for attention, but anyway. And let me just tell you, the cover for Haevyn is looking awesome. I've gotten a quick first glimpse of it. I'm so excited.

But rolling with the ideas, and letting a plot and the characters sort of marinate, and then, all of a sudden, one things leads to another, and to another, and suddenly the story and characters come to life, they begin to move, to relate, to dimensionalize.

I could say more about Kestra, but not right now. I'm going to reset those dominoes and let's see what else happens. A new pattern may just cause a chain reaction in a a whole other way I never even thought of. That's usually the way these things happen. And that's what I love above creating story. God, it's exciting!

The Crow and Symbolism

Saw this guy the other day. He sat for a long time just letting me take his picture from several different angles. I'm thinking he might have an eye toward the picnickers behind me. There were a number of them in the park the other day. I think I like this picture best. I really do love my digital camera.

Not too lean a fellow. Looks like he lives a pretty good life, at least this time of year with lots of people out enjoying the good weather.

Looked up some stuff about the crow. Have a little guide book for birds in this part of the world.

Northwestern Crow. Resembles the American Crow, except smaller and more slender. Not sure this guy fits that description. A mobbing sort of behavior. Likes to harass the American Crow. Likes shorelines, tidewater areas, edges of coastal forest. This one was staying pretty close to the water in the local park.

Liked the movie, The Crow, too. Love dark stuff like that, liked the sort of Romeo and Juliet, star-crossed lovers angle, and the revenge, of course.


The Crow animal totem. Information about the crow, associated with the raven. Can be found here. An omen of change, be willing to walk your talk. Symbols of creation and spiritual strength. Keeper of the sacred law.

I pulled down one of my books on symbols, An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols by J.C. Cooper, and alchemically, nigredo refers to the first age of matter in the Great Work. The Egyptian pairs crows to denote conjugal felicity. In Greek, the crow is sacred to Apollo and Athene. In Shintoism, holy crows, messengers of deities, are associated with temples.

Messengers, change, spirituality. If I say it, I've got to mean it. Creation. What was this crow trying to tell me? Must think about it in the context of my life.

Something to consider.

In speaking with Haevyn...

I'm working my way through the almost final draft of a WIP that's been making me crazy. I've been having conversations with three of the characters. So, there's Haevyn, who's in a newly-formed special branch of the Regulate military. A very special branch. She's secretive, she has been from the start. She won't even talk to me, the person who's transcribing her story.

"Why him, Haevyn? What is it about him that keeps you coming back?" I take a bite out of the double cheeseburger.

There's a look in her eye, I can feel those secrets there, hiding, cringing in the corner, in the shadows. Her whole demeanor goes still, almost like a statue. I bet she learned that stance when she was in training. But then she slides a glance toward me.

"Do you mean, Grisha?"

"Yes, him," I say, then take a sip of the coke. Mind you, I was having this discussion in a McDonald's at Walmart's. Call me crazy, but she finally opened up about Grisha. Why here, why now, in the middle of a freaking fast-food place, I have no idea. But, hey, I'm going with it. I rummage for the notebook, the pen, I'm ready. "He's just a simple fisherman, really has nothing in common with you."

I see a curl of the lip, but in contrast there's a sheen of tears in her eyes, and she gets that far away look. Whatever memory it is, this seems to be one of the good ones. "He makes me laugh. He makes me...safe."

"Safe?" I ask as I dip the tip of a really salty french fry into the cup of catsup and pop it into my mouth.

A tear rolls down her face. "I've known Grisha since we were school friends. He was there at the most embarrassing moments of my life. He was there...before."

"But he doesn't know everything about you, does he?" I offer her a napkin, which she refuses, lifting her chin, a rather stubborn, set look to her face. The cheeseburger is starting to taste like dust. I so feel for this woman. I have to keep digging because there are so many layers to her.

"He knows enough. I don't need him to know more. He makes me laugh, he makes me feel safe. And in Quentopolis, that's a damned hard thing to do."

"And the other one?" I can't help asking.

"The other one?" For a moment she seems confused and then a look of understanding comes into her eyes. The tears dry and now I see something different. A fire simmering just below the surface. "You mean the warrior...from cockrage. I only met him the other night."

"Yes, but, that was quite a meeting wasn't it? Does he make you laugh?"

A look hinting at different secrets comes into her face, the heaviness of expression, the sensuality is almost tangible. Something darker here, burning in her gut. "He's a warrior, he's seen battle, he knows. And my goddess, to see him fight, to watch him take a man." She releases a shuddering breath.

Is it hot in here or what? I hunt around for the fire extinguishers. I clear my throat. Okay. Keep the conversation going. "What does he know?"

"The secrets. He's been to the abyss. He understands the darkness, the danger. He understands the primal rage that tries to consume you. He's felt it, he's been there."

Ahh, now I'm beginning to understand. These two men are very different indeed. Hmm, wonder how this will all work out for Haevyn?

But, boy, am I glad she finally opened up about the men in her life. Damn, she's been close-mouthed.

Of course, there is that other dude who needs to open up more. Jericah thinks he's too high and mighty to speak with this writer. If he's such a damned powerful sorcerer, how'd he get stuck in such a predicament anyway? In your face, pal, start talking. He's going to have to talk to me one way or the other. I get them all to reveal...eventually. I'm darned tenacious about that. I've got some ideas about his secrets. We'll see how right I am.

In the meantime, I've got to get the groceries. After all, that's really what I'm supposed to be here for.

Guest Blogging Today - The Erotic Mind of a Twisted Fantasy Writer

Today I'm guest blogging at Gabriella Hewitt's blog, talking about my novel, Silver. Take a moment to stop by. Musings from my twisted imagination, one might say. Something to start your week out with. The Erotic Imagination of a Twisted Fantasy Writer.

Nightingale - Available 3/27/11 - Almost Here!

Nightingale by Darcy Abriel

Release Date - March 27, 2011
Genres: Erotic Gay Dark Fantasy Romance
Purchase Link: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/Nightingale.html
Author Website: http://www.darcyabriel.com



What's the story about?

The thirst for deliverance and absolution are transformed into the explosive flames of a glorious undeniable, and forbidden, passion when a mysteriously charismatic masked man encounters a brilliant and handsome composer. Four lives are intertwined and nothing is as it seems. Only the ultimate sacrifice will satisfy the greedy appetite of fate...



A Bit of Tasty Scene to Tempt You...

"You like being ordered, don’t you? You like men." His voice was a steamy intimate whisper against Carne’s ear. "My touching you is arousing. How many men have you been with, Geraint? And women? Have you a patron among them?"

There would be no prevarication. This man, in some supernatural way, would peel Carne’s secrets from his soul. And Carne couldn’t stop it from happening, he could do none other than yield himself. "I-I think you know my preference, Maître . I think you know it well enough."

His mother had thought it was the music tutor who had ruined him. She blamed herself for Carne’s eccentricities. But Carne had known from an early age, when he’d secretly watched the actors changing backstage, when it had been the men who he fantasized about, not the women. He had understood his predilection for men before his mother’s latest lover had seduced him. But he never told her the truth before she died of consumption in the poor house. He never absolved her of her false guilt.

But the women give you fine jewels, don’t they? Little gifts because you please them so very much. They yearn for you to spend time in their bed, they are eager for you to sleep with them, to show them even more of your secret magic. To ply your command of…instrument in a much more personal and intimate fashion."

Yes, but I don’t give them what they want. I’ll sire no bastards. Ever." He was never going to subject a child to what he had suffered. And since he had no plans to marry, nor a desire to lie with women, he offered them no encouragement to pursue him. "So maybe they want me more because of it. But the men. They can be even more generous than the women." Perhaps so generous because they sought to assuage their guilt for wanting him instead of the beautiful actresses for whom he composed his arias to make their voices shine.

"They can also be more brutal. Is that what you like about them?"

Carne didn’t respond right away. It was that, but there was more as well. "Not all of them are brutal," Carne finally responded. "Some of them are quite…feminine in their desires."

Maitre released Carne. He stepped away and folded his long limbs into an upholstered gold-and-black embroidered wing-backed chair. He crossed his legs and studied Carne. "Tell me," he encouraged in his intriguing smoothly alluring voice. "Tell me about the feminine ones. Stroke your cock while you tell me your stories." He skimmed his long index finger along the globe of the glass containing the absinthe. Carne remembered the taste of that finger inside his mouth.

Carne’s fingers curled around the breadth of his prick, stroked up and down. He’d spent enough time in the company of men to instinctively know what they wanted. How many "patrons" of his technique and talents had there been over the years? They all paled into significance next to this man.