I woke up this morning to a huge number of page reads, or at least huge for me. Very rarely do I have any in the morning, though often I have some; it depends really on whether people have started reading off in Australia, or England, or whether some Americans read so late in the night that it was actually counted this morning.

Last night it appeared to be a combination; five different books, one read both in India and Australia, one only downloaded with just one page read. One was read in Canada but probably late at night. Here, after all, it is only 8 am, and it's not that different in Canada.

Sometimes you get a huge number dumped at once; this was the case last night. Before I went to bed, at about eleven, a woman told me she had read my book and actually showed me the review. At that moment, zero, but this morning, all of them. It's like she plugged her kindle in online, and it took Amazon a while to grab all those pages and count them. When they did, it was already morning.

As the new year rolls in, it's good to have things happening. Often it is in return for a promise I've made to read something of somebody's, but that's what the New Year is all about, or at least one of the things it's about. It's snowy and cold outside, no fun being out there, and though I've promised to clean out the garage again it's not happening, too cold, and I am much happier in my chair.

On the global scale I much prefer .com reads because they pay better and I primarily see myself through my .com ratings. In that regard it's good to have decent ratings going into the new year (I feel like taking a photo of my ratings log just for new years' sake), but, I also feel that it's good just on prinicple to be read in Australia, India and UK, and I wouldn't mind if somebody in France or Spain picked up my books too.

The downside is simple. My mere obsession with this - the fact that I know it at all, that I write it down, that I pay close attention - comes at the expense of my writing itself. I have done almost none over the Christmas holiday. And it's not even a "holiday" here, although my kids are out of school. They don't bug me at all. I could probably be writing another book, or several, but I'm not; I'm sitting here obsessing about my ratings, and reading other people's work. It's mixed. Usually I enjoy it. I've read lots of different kinds of things. I've found new audiences.

I wish everyone a happy and prosperous New Year. I can't say mine is exactly "prosperous," but it's at least starting with a little hope.

local author's fair

I had a minor success at the library's local author fair. Really it has more to do with my image of myself as an author than sales. In sales, I sold three and traded three; I'll take my $24 bucks and plow it back into the business one way or the other.

I got all thirty books out there this time, all on the table at once. That alone was a kind of organizational miracle. Of course I had been planning for it as last year there were some key ones I didn't have. This time I had them all. And though I had to put some beneath others, it was good knowing they were there and being able to see them all out.

There were a lot of people who didn't really want to visit much; they kind of tolerated what I had to say, but in the end they were all about moving on. Perhaps they had bought one earlier (I was not the first author for anyone; being virtually in the middle, almost everyone had talked to at least three or four authors before me). Maybe I should rethink my placement next year, as I might have done better with better placement. I sold two of the crime stories book, which leads me to believe that people looking to Christmas shop for others are basically looking for something quick, easy, light, pleasurable. They were buying gifts. Sometimes they were having them wrapped.

As I sat there, my thirty books splayed out in front of me, I had time to reflect on my act - what I brought to the fair, the way I presented myself. Some authors did better than me that way. They had little metal book-holding shelves, or cards, or little laminated things that presented their press. One had put my review on her bookmark, and I took that bookmark as a souvenir. Lots were giving away candy. I had no freebies, no cards, no nothing. A plan, I told everyone: I have a plan to make this better for next year.

If charm could have won people over, I still would have sold only a half-dozen; there just weren't that many people there. As it was I was lucky to sell three. And I no longer have much charm. What I have is eagerness to talk about all the work I've done. But people don't care about that.

In a way, I was representing Galesburg. We had a dozen authors; we were there; we sold books. Galesburg has a writing scene; we were it. I am basking in the glow.