Selling More Deaths Than One

In terms of book sales yesterday was an up and a down. Down because my four hour book signing session in The Ullapool Bookshop yielded sales of just three copies of More Deaths Than One. Up because the novel's Amazon sales ranking had in the previous 24 hours shot up by a mere three hundred thousand places.

So why didn't I feel particularly put out by the Ullapool down? Well, having all your life earned a fair old living out of marketing stuff you don't get distressed by failure to achieve everything you expected. Or indeed anything. Nobody selling things ever does. Without wishing any basphemy even JC himself only convinced twelve people in his thirty years. There always will be far more dissenters than assenters, otherwise we'd all be rich and the world would be full to bursting of unwanted crap, physical or non-physical. (Hey, maybe the world really is getting that way because of too many salesmen with too many pitches, however unsuccessful!)

Also I felt the Ullapool exercise was OK because I very much enjoyed the three sales I did get. Talking to interested strangers about something as personal as a published novel is always going to give the author a lot of pleasure. By the way I should explain that there were very few people about in Ullapool, much less coming into that bookshop on a cold and wet February morning. How many fingers and toes do you have? And finally I enjoyed the experience of being for four hours in a house of many books. So thank you, Don. We'll do this again when the sun shines and the place if full of visitors from 'down south' with loadsamoney in pockets and purses.

As for the the Amazon up-graph, I have absolutely no idea why so many sales of More Deaths Than One suddenly came about. Maybe the much vaunted, top secret Amazon logarithm has made a mistake! Or maybe this is the rumble of an on-coming, still distant tsunami of sales for my novel. Why not? Anyone can dream.

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