Worst Selling Authors
by Alasdair McPherson
Genre: Humour
Swearwords: None.
Description: Introducing 'The McPhersons' - a generic name for new awards for writers.
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I have just signed up to Facebook, who obligingly suggested a few possible ‘Friends’. Most of them were fellow authors so I linked into their profiles in the hope that I would meet a compatible spirit: I do not do soul mates any more having concluded that they only exist in Victorian novels written after 1920.
It took several hours of trawling through the profiles before a couple of surprising truths dawned on me; I was so astonished that I went back over the entries to be sure I had got it right!
In the first place, all eight of the authors I checked on were best sellers! I admit that I was a bit sceptical at first but they are all authors of fiction with no reason to lie, unlike non-fiction authors who have only the haziest notion of the boundary between fact and fiction.
I got a bit depressed, to tell you the truth, not only because I am a worst selling author but because these people are still spending their time on Facebook.
I really love writing, developing ideas and striving to find an interesting way to present them. I like to think that if I was a bestselling author I would devote every waking hour to writing. Someone else would clean the house, walk the dog and go to the gym twice a week on my behalf while I lounged about in a silk, quilted dressing gown. (If you aren’t thinking ‘Noel Coward’ you are probably too young to be reading this)
I was just dictating my latest masterpiece when the dream got side-tracked and I had to be very firm with myself to make my amanuensis somewhat less attractive and a good deal less willing to satisfy my fantasies.
The truth is that, as soon as I had the cash from bestselling, I would be off to Humberside Airport to catch the first flight that did not terminate on a rig in the middle of the North Sea. I would swan off to the places in the world where they knew how to treat me like royalty.
The one thing I would most emphatically not do is spend a moment telling people about myself on Facebook. I would be more inclined to wear aviator glasses and have a bodyguard to keep the paparazzi at bay. Electronic friends have their place but I would rather go to the pub and splash out a bit of my royalty money. Free spending is a lot more satisfying than kicking sand in their faces (If you don’t think ‘Charles Atlas’ you are definitely too young to continue reading this.) for failing to recognise my genius in the past – the present, then, if you are going to be picky!
The other thing that struck me when I sifted through the lives of authors on Facebook was that they all hinted at a swap arrangement: ‘I will buy and read your book if you will buy mine’. I am too lazy to collect the proof but I suspect that nine out of ten e-books published are sold to the authors of other e-books. The remaining one is sold to, and perhaps read by, family.
I say ‘perhaps’ because not only did my sister, who is red hot on family unity, con her daughter into buying my book but she admitted to speed-reading it(Home Counties speak for ‘skipping huge chunks’). Mercifully, she withheld her opinion on the quality of the writing!
Cleaning the toilet after walking the dog in a downpour, I got to thinking about all this and that led me to literary awards. (If you are still with me you are saying ‘lateral thinking’ to yourself.) The present awards go to bestselling authors who have to be given substantial prizes to attract their interest –J.K. would probably stick a cheque for a couple of thousand in her purse and forget to cash it! Awards for worst selling authors would be much more cost-effective. A first prize of, say, fifty pounds would certainly put my first royalty cheque (£12.98) in the shade.
It is a field that might be exploited by publicity-hungry charities: ‘The Oxfam Prize for the Best Book written by a Worst Selling Author’ has a certain ring to it. Better still, they could appoint the supporters of the charity to be the voters for the prize. In order to vote you would have to buy and read the e-books on the short list. This bonanza of sales would ensure that even the losing worst selling authors would be winners!
Swearwords: None.
Description: Introducing 'The McPhersons' - a generic name for new awards for writers.
_____________________________________________________________________
I have just signed up to Facebook, who obligingly suggested a few possible ‘Friends’. Most of them were fellow authors so I linked into their profiles in the hope that I would meet a compatible spirit: I do not do soul mates any more having concluded that they only exist in Victorian novels written after 1920.
It took several hours of trawling through the profiles before a couple of surprising truths dawned on me; I was so astonished that I went back over the entries to be sure I had got it right!
In the first place, all eight of the authors I checked on were best sellers! I admit that I was a bit sceptical at first but they are all authors of fiction with no reason to lie, unlike non-fiction authors who have only the haziest notion of the boundary between fact and fiction.
I got a bit depressed, to tell you the truth, not only because I am a worst selling author but because these people are still spending their time on Facebook.
I really love writing, developing ideas and striving to find an interesting way to present them. I like to think that if I was a bestselling author I would devote every waking hour to writing. Someone else would clean the house, walk the dog and go to the gym twice a week on my behalf while I lounged about in a silk, quilted dressing gown. (If you aren’t thinking ‘Noel Coward’ you are probably too young to be reading this)
I was just dictating my latest masterpiece when the dream got side-tracked and I had to be very firm with myself to make my amanuensis somewhat less attractive and a good deal less willing to satisfy my fantasies.
The truth is that, as soon as I had the cash from bestselling, I would be off to Humberside Airport to catch the first flight that did not terminate on a rig in the middle of the North Sea. I would swan off to the places in the world where they knew how to treat me like royalty.
The one thing I would most emphatically not do is spend a moment telling people about myself on Facebook. I would be more inclined to wear aviator glasses and have a bodyguard to keep the paparazzi at bay. Electronic friends have their place but I would rather go to the pub and splash out a bit of my royalty money. Free spending is a lot more satisfying than kicking sand in their faces (If you don’t think ‘Charles Atlas’ you are definitely too young to continue reading this.) for failing to recognise my genius in the past – the present, then, if you are going to be picky!
The other thing that struck me when I sifted through the lives of authors on Facebook was that they all hinted at a swap arrangement: ‘I will buy and read your book if you will buy mine’. I am too lazy to collect the proof but I suspect that nine out of ten e-books published are sold to the authors of other e-books. The remaining one is sold to, and perhaps read by, family.
I say ‘perhaps’ because not only did my sister, who is red hot on family unity, con her daughter into buying my book but she admitted to speed-reading it(Home Counties speak for ‘skipping huge chunks’). Mercifully, she withheld her opinion on the quality of the writing!
Cleaning the toilet after walking the dog in a downpour, I got to thinking about all this and that led me to literary awards. (If you are still with me you are saying ‘lateral thinking’ to yourself.) The present awards go to bestselling authors who have to be given substantial prizes to attract their interest –J.K. would probably stick a cheque for a couple of thousand in her purse and forget to cash it! Awards for worst selling authors would be much more cost-effective. A first prize of, say, fifty pounds would certainly put my first royalty cheque (£12.98) in the shade.
It is a field that might be exploited by publicity-hungry charities: ‘The Oxfam Prize for the Best Book written by a Worst Selling Author’ has a certain ring to it. Better still, they could appoint the supporters of the charity to be the voters for the prize. In order to vote you would have to buy and read the e-books on the short list. This bonanza of sales would ensure that even the losing worst selling authors would be winners!
About the Author
Originally from Dalmuir, Alasdair McPherson is now retired and living in exile in Lincolnshire.
He says he has always wanted to write, but life got in the way until recently. He has already penned two novels and is now trying his hand at short stories.
He says he has always wanted to write, but life got in the way until recently. He has already penned two novels and is now trying his hand at short stories.