The Sky Is Falling! Kindle Select Pays By The Page

First of all, I need a Puppy Break.

Aren't they cute? That's Trouble (with the slipper in his mouth) and Mocha the Great Watch'em Dog.

Now that my breathing has returned to normal - let's talk about Amazon's newest program in Kindle unlimited. The Blogosphere would have us think it was designed to make us Indie Writers insane.

Remember, these changes only apply to e-books enrolled in Kindle Unlimited.

Look at the puppies, and breath. (Make sure Carole isn't around.)

My mother's Short Stories are released in Kindle Select. Usually I put them in Select, wait a week, crank out all the free days and when the 90 days are up, I go ahead and release them from captivity.

I do that to give them a boost. I might get 1 or 2 halo sales, but not too many.

So I understand why ANY changes are making other people crazy. The whole WORLD is in chaos! The economy stinks, mad-men with guns are walking into churches and killing middle-class citizens, Steven Colbert has vanished and Jon Stewart is quitting. (Ulp, back to the puppies.)

The fact that Publishing Bloggers, like The Little Red Hen, are screaming "THE SKY IS FALLING!" doesn't help me a bit.

It's okay, really, it's all click-bait.

Look at the puppies. (Carole isn't around, it's safe.)

Maybe Amazon is trying to lure the Novelists back to Select/Unlimited. If that's true, then it's going to pay to be a Novelist again. At $0.60 a borrow, Select and Unlimited don't pay a lot, so longer works shouldn't be trapped in the system.

I used Select when it first came out, hit the Amazon UK Best Seller's List and rode that pony for 10 long and lovely weeks. Then the algorithm changed, and that pony didn't go as fast or as far after that. My work settled deep in the mulch layer, and has never been able to dig it's way out. Yikes!

Here's another pretty face:

That's Grumpy, in full length fur. Ain't he squee-worthy?

We work hard for our sales. Some people have success, others don't. It really sucks to go from Best Seller to micro-seller. But that's what happened to me. When Amazon changed over to Kindle Unlimited, my sales tanked. I went six months without one damn sale on Amazon.

Publishing is a craps-shoot. It's worse than D-n-D. You roll the dice, pay the price and there's nothing in the world that will give you a +1 bonus.

The Honeymoon is long gone.

For me, the advantage, when there was one, of releasing Mom's short stories to Select/Unlimited is pretty much gone. Amazon's lowest price, $0.99 yields $0.35, which is better than $0.01 or $0.10. With an average of 12 d/ls for 2 free days, no halo sales and no lift in sale's rank, why wait 90 days to hit a dozen more markets?

I can get a better run on Apple's iBook with either Smashwords or D2D, WITH halo sales and a bump in sales rank.

The playing field levels out.

For a rational examination of Amazon's new policy, I recommend this post The Great Amazon Hysterian...Part 31 by David Gaughran. 

For a gentle scolding if you've already become hysterical Elizabeth Hunter posted this gem: For Indie Writers: You Have The Control. Own it!

PS - Please buy my books.*

* (They say Barry Eisler ends his posts with 'Buy my crap.' I figured 'what the hell?')

Saccharin for the Mind

The old mare and me

Just got done watching an old movie - a gooey saccharin horse story.

You know the kind - Wild Black Stallion can only be ridden by Sweet Young (virgin) Girl. Family farm under attack by the Evil Business Man who will cheat to win.

Yawn.

I've been around horses all my life. Had my first pony at four and still have horses five decades later. In five freaking decades, the story's plot hasn't changed. The tropes are ALWAYS the same.

Wild Horse, Evil Man wants to Break the Wild Horse. Only the Virgin can Tame the Wild horse. In many, many ways this is the Tale of the Unicorn. You know, where the Wild Unicorn can only be Tamed by the Virgin.

I wrote 'Impressive Bravado' because I was sick of the Myth of the (Magick) Horse Whisperer. Well, I'm just about as sick of the Magick Horse, too.

Pop culture has reduced the relationship between human and horse to Magick, where the horse is a Unicorn in disguise. Humans have become so detached from nature, in my lifetime, and horses so Disneyfied, that a true relationship between our species is nearly impossible. (I will stop there with the Disney Rant, I promise.)

The average person can't comprehend the complexity of equine/human relationships.

They are a prey animal. We are a predator. In order to have a relationship, there has to be trust. In order to have trust, there has to be communication.

Words are great, when the horse is trained to recognize words. Most horses don't even know their own names. What horses understand is body language.

They read us, like we read books...or computer screens.

A horsewoman, who has passed now, used to call it "Black Stallion Syndrome" which references a series of books by Walter Farley about a boy shipwrecked with a 'wild' black stallion. The boy 'tames' the stallion - they get off the island and they have an unbelievable racing career that isn't possible for a 'wild' horse.

The only horses who race in Thoroughbred races are...guess hard now...Thoroughbreds.

Oops.

Later in the series, it's revealed that this 'wild' stallion is actually a registered Thoroughbred, the pampered pet of a Sheik.

Okay...all better now.

My point, and I always have one, is that by passing horses off as 'Magick' creatures we sell them far, far short...and set humans up to get hurt mentally and physically when we interact with this powerful, complex and fundimentally gentle species.

Here's something I wrote after an encounter with a "PETA" person.

A Real Horse Story – What PETA Doesn’t Know

4/26/01

I was reading a PETA pamphlet about horses in a store the other day. A nice young woman came up to me, seeing the pamphlet, started to talk. She echoed the pamphlet's wrath about the treatment of horses by humans. There were a few issues that I agreed with her. But then she said something I found really foolish:

          “Horses are so beautiful, they should be allowed to run free, without humans bothering them. Humans are so cruel. Riding horses is torture! Did you know that they actually pound nails into a horse’s foot? How horrible! Horses are such timid animals, they never would harm a human.”

          I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Horses were timid?

They should run free?

Being ridden was torture?

Horses never hurt humans?

I was nursing a couple of small bruises on my thighs where my mare Oppie had tried to buck me off. I’d been thrown into the kneepads of my saddle. I considered myself lucky, the last time she had managed to dump me, I’d gotten a concussion and broken two teeth.

There was a rope burn on my hand where her year old 500 lb., baby Tanamara had tried to drag me down the pasture instead of following me like a lady. I also had a bruise on my leg where my gentle old gelding Ned had objected to the way I tightened the girth around his belly so he had cow-kicked me in the leg.

          I was nice to this innocent person. I swallowed my laughter. “Have you ever owned a horse?” I asked her, already guessing what the answer would be. She was happy to bubble over with her experiences with horses.

         No, she hadn’t. Nor had she ever ridden a horse as an adult; but a pony ride as a child of five had made her fall in love with horses. I guessed it had been one of those carnivals where very, very gentle ponies were put in a walker to go around in a circle. But she had read a lot of books about horses.

In the face of such an expert, I was hesitant to open my mouth.

          At the same impressionable age, I had been given a small, untrained pony as my very own. It took all my eight cousins to train him to accept a rider. As the canny little beast tossed one of us, another had climbed aboard. It had been a rodeo on a very small scale. Only by sheer numbers and adult supervision had we been able to survive the carnage. After a week, the pony had learned to tolerate a rider, while most of my cousins were turned off horses for life.

         Then there was my herd of three registered Quarter Horses. If my horses had been "allowed to run free" they would die horribly.

Ned who stood 66 inches at the shoulder, ate 40 pounds of good hay, a gallon of sweet feed, all the grass he could chew, PLUS drank 10 gallons of water per day, would waste away to a skeleton in a week on a diet of just grass. Who would carefully tend his brittle hooves? He needed special plastic shoes, dietary supplements and twice-weekly treatments with expensive oils to stop his feet from cracking so badly he couldn't walk. Turned out on grass, without my care, he would die.

Oppie, fastidious as any Queen, would be highly insulted if I wasn't around to keep her bedded down properly in straw or shavings. She went so far as to do her "business" in her stall so her pasture wouldn't be dirty. Her kidneys would rupture if she hadn't had a place to potty in descent privacy!

As for our 500 pound yearling Tanamara, she was known to throw tantrums if not the center of attention. She would even try to chase off her "uncle" Ned, twice her height and weight in order to get a human to pet her. She could also be a terrorist; snaking her head and threatening to bite if she thought she would be shorted a treat.

Timid was not a word that I could use to describe any of my pampered herd. But the horse expert from PETA was still talking.

I wondered if she knew how many bales of hay a horse ate in a month or how much grain or how many loads of manure one produced. My herd ate 30 bales a month while on winter pasture, 300 pounds of grain, drank 900 gallons of water, they got their feet trimmed or shoes reset every 45 to 60 days. They also produced about 3 - 100-pound wheelbarrows of "compost" that forked out in 30-pound increments every week.

My life revolves around horse care, feeding schedules, shoes, and vaccinations then once every couple of weeks; I get to ride for an hour or two. I returned to college to get a better job so I could afford to keep my horses. I have worked as many as three jobs to support my horses.

I never told that young lady that I owned horses. It would have been a lie. I am their servant.

The truth is always much messier than fiction.

I Almost Forgot - e-Festival of Words

The eFestival of Words is hosted by Bards and Sages Publishing.

eFestival of Words Virtual Book Fair

eFestival of Words Virtual Book Fair and Host of the Best of the Independent eBook Awards

'The Emissary - Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse' has been nominated for Best Novella. This link goes to my Amazon author page because two more books in the series are due out in the fall of 2014.

I am eternally grateful for the nomination. I've been working very hard on the next three books in the series.

Currently The Emissary the e-book is free on Smashwords. That link goes to the series page, so you can see all the books in the series.

Paperbacks...those might be ready for Christmas 2015. I'm not sure about 2014. Depends on finances. I may have to go to Kickstart. If so I'll update this page.

I feel the best way to introduce the series is by posting the blurb.

Can four women and six horses make it 100 miles and arrive alive? In a world where the muerto viviente - walking dead -- prowl, Bethany McLeod must take her sisters Alexis, Dani and Julie cross-country to Fort Chatten, Kentucky, a journey of 100 miles.

It's just three years since the Zombie Apocalypse. The McLeod and Davidson's clans survive in a world where the muerto viviente - walking dead - infest the cities and towns.

Alexis McLeod is a healer, eager to prove herself. She volunteers to travel to Fort Chatten, the home of the Davidson clan. Led by Bethany, the four sisters risk their lives to help Clan Davidson.

Armed to the teeth, the sisters are horse archers, light cavalry, quick enough to avoid the muerto.

Militia, marauders and mad-men abound, the stinking dead walk the land, eating everything in their path.

But what will they find if they get to Fort Chatten?

This story is suitable for all ages. 

The Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse - Smashwords
K. A. Jordan - Amazon US Author Page
K. A Jordan - Amazon UK Author Page
The Emissary - Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse - B&N

Grumpy Has a Job!

Meet Grump the Alpaca and Evil Ian the Buff Orphington rooster. Grumpy lost his life-long companion, and I was afraid he would pine away. Oddly enough, Grumpy has taken a shine to the poultry in general and the lovely, but nasty Evil Ian.

The top picture shows Grumpy on guard. My Jack Russel, Trouble has come out to play. You can see Trouble in the second picture. That's Grumpy stamping his foot, warning Trouble to keep his distance, or else.

This is the 'or else' I was talking about. Grumpy targeted the little chicken-chasing dog for a bad stomping. Luckily for Trouble, I was there to protect him. He zipped around me, barking like a big bad dog, but hiding under my feet. 

"Don't worry, little buddy. I'll protect you!"

Trouble was still at my feet in this picture, and Evil Ian was coming in for the kill himself. Once Evil Ian was my favorite. He would sit on my arm and eat from my hand. But by the time this picture was taken, Ian had earned the 'Evil' by attacking me, the dogs, and anyone he could target.

It is great fun to watch the animals interact. That is, as long as Evil Ian didn't attack me. However, there was just one more species that needed to make itself known...

This is Tanamara, the young mare, who is in line to be Queen and doesn't let any of the other animals forget it. The alpacas were the newcomers, so they were the lowest critter on the totem pole. 

The young mare didn't want that fuzzball alpaca to get too close to HER human (that's me). And the old gelding came around to back her up.

Sorry Grumpy, you aren't the Alpha of this herd. This is Mare territory.

Stay tuned! You never know what I'm going to see and what I can get photos of. The animals here have their own world, and a strict pecking order.

It Isn't Paranoia When They're REALLY After You

Andre Jute Exposes My Secrets -  isn't that what friends do for each other?

My husband and my father both have asked me "Who is this guy?"

I hardly know what to say. I guess this is another few seconds of fame.

The Game of Musical Dogs

Frizbie the Bitchen' Frizzy

Often animals come into our lives in different ways.

Frizzy is a little white fluffy dog, kinda cute, in that lapdog way. Since he's been here he has learned a proper Terrier bark. Not his normal high-pitched, ear-piercing yap, but a deeper bark that sounds exactly like Trouble. It is uncanny.

He's the only dog in the bunch who is utterly clueless. I've got two Jack Russel Terriers and a JRT, Mini-pin, Chihuahua and Beagle mix. All three are much smarter than Frizzy.

For instance - Mocha the Mutt wants on my lap, but a dog is already there. She goes looking for his favorite toy, or a chewy, gets up on the couch, plays with it to get his interest, then drops it to the floor.

The other dog is supposed to jump after the toy, so Mocha can curl up in my lap.
JR will simply look at her, unless it is his ball. Then he HAS to get it.

Trouble fell for this trick - over and over - until he figured it out. Now he will get up if he's in the mood to play. Otherwise he stays put.

Frizzy hasn't figured it out yet. He falls for it every time. So he doesn't get a lot of lap time. No sooner does he settle in than Mocha will dig up something interesting and toss it to the floor.

Poor dumb Frizzy - he hasn't got a chance. The Jacks are too smart for him.

If I hold still, they will play musical dogs all day. Some times I will watch TV and have a different dog in my lap every time I look down. It's a little disconcerting.

Company gets the same treatment. You sit down, you have a lap, therefore you will have a dog in your lap in short order.

My mother can't sit down without having a dog on each side of her. She gets aggravated at Trouble because he always wants to lick her face. (I can't stand it either, I've seen them wolf down horse turds. No dog is going to lick my face.)

JR is the worst one for Mom to deal with because he's the heaviest and he leans on her. She doesn't want to pet him, but she doesn't have much choice.

Oddly enough she never tells the dogs to get off the couch.

I tell them 'off' quite often, only Mocha slinks away like she's been punished.  But she's dominant anyways, she needs to be told.

This canine ritual comes in handy when you have company. If the person is upset about something - they will have a dog to pet and they will calm down.

It never fails.

Knock Knock - Mother Clucker

Pick Your Battles is an utterly hillarious blog that I wouldn't believe except for the pictures.

It just goes to show that no man is a match for the twisted female sense of humor. NO MAN.

Because when Man pisses off his Woman strange things tend to happen. Like she brings home a sheet metal sculpture of a chicken - well a rooster. And we all know what the other name for rooster is.

The um - chicken/rooster jokes going through my head have kept me in gales of giggles since I first saw this.

If ever a story deserved to go viral - this is the one.

Just keep in mind that this started over towels. Now it's totally out of control.

Hermit Kitty

Yes – it's true! Ms Kitty has gone hermit.


With my only connection to the interwebs a dialup connection (gasp!) I've holed up in the wilderness.

This drastic measure – yes, it's drastic YOU try to survive on a dialup connection – is solely to see if I can get some work done. I've been ADHD for so long that I'd given up hope of ever finishing ANYTHING.


However, I'm relieved to announce progress! I have finished and published "Impressive Bravado" a short mystery/satire about horses and the horse show industry. I did a DWS with it – finished it and threw it at Smashwords as a freebie.


Once I get some feedback on it, I might edit it a bit more. However, I doubt it. If I spend any more time on it, I'm going to have to charge for it.


Why did I do that? Two reasons both equally important at this point.


Advertising my skill as a story-teller. Unless people know that I can write, they will never buy my work. Somewhere along the line I've got to prove myself.


Ego (or self-esteem if you believe in Indigo children and other mythological creatures) as it's been more than 2 months since I've sold a single copy of "Let's Do Lunch" – I'm a hurting kitty.


"Impressive Bravado" is a short story in the Ms Kitty style of humor and satire that takes a poke at horse people in general and best of all – 'Horse Whisperers' in particular. It's already been 'bought' by 30 people since midnight last night.


I suppose the shit will hit the fan as soon as someone who knows horses reads it. I hope so – I need some free publicity.

He Broke my Fraking Foot!

With my apologies to Battlestar Galactica for stealing the 'cuss' word. But I'm in pain!

Ned the idiot, my 16 hand 2 inch thoroughbred gelding stomped on my right foot tonight and smashed my foot and broke my little toe.

I just started a new job now I'm laid up!

I had to call a girlfriend to take me to the ER. I had to call my hubby home from a conference. Call my new boss at home. Call my parents and my sister for help with the horses this week. (Most likely the next six weeks.)

I forgot to pick up crutches and I'm terrified that I'll puke up the pain meds.

I can't walk and I work on the 3rd floor of a building with no elevator.

Murphy's Law strikes again.

Content Advisory in Effect -- Not!

Been slaving over the pitch for Amazon.com Breakthrough Novel Award. I can hardly spell discipline without looking it up, however, that is exactly what I need.

The horses are outside and hungry and the hubby has collapsed, I have to find time to finish that stupid pitch! Add to this two Jack Russels, a mutt, a cat and a sick husband - all clamoring for my attention, well the pressure is on. Now that I've declared my intention to enter this contest, I've had to re-write my first Chapter, ripping the first six pages out to get to a place where I had relevant dialog to start with. (Ack!)

However my opening quote is a good one. "So what does a guy have to do to get a plate of fried chicken and French fries in this place?"

I think of this as the 'grunt' work of writing. The pitches, the queries, the contests, researching markets and struggling to turn this beloved story into something more than a mere file on a disk. Without 'readers' writers aren't anyone. But finding the way through this maze to the prize of publication at the end - well that's a different can of worms.

Yet, for the writing to have meaning (ie. Readers) traversing this maze is required. (Oh Joy!)

Blogmanship has it's advantages. One can pretend that people are reading a blog, even if no one is, they might.

Someday.

I've started thinking that networking sites could easily outlive the people who put them up, as a blog could. There's something to keep you up at night, eh? One hundred years from now, which web-sites will be 'national monuments?'

Classmates.com perhaps? I've got photos up there, will I be leaving that for posterity when I am no more? Hey there's a happy thought -- Not! I have a few photos that I'd like to post of my favorite teen years. Wonder if the other person involved would object?

This brings me back to the photo issue for the contest. Can you believe they want a photo of the author. (Me?) My very first publicity shot is a old tin-type of me in a hat with a bottle in one hand and gun in the other. (Rotflmao)

Why not?

My wicked mind reels at the prospect. Better not. Anything that much fun would get me into trouble.

Can you tell that I'm punchy from slaving over that bitch of a pitch?

I'm getting close, I'm tripping over my own feet to have this come out better than any other blurb I've ever written.

Applied Technology

What a beautiful day! Hot, dry, breezy, a perfect day to use the solar clothes drier.

It is a very handy device, quick and quiet. I can load it down with two washer loads of clothes and they dry in no time. If I'd been in a laundry I'd have to pay a buck a load. So I saved three bucks already this afternoon. I may be able to save more money yet today.

It's hard to believe that this incredible invention is illegal in parts of the country. Yep, try to use one in a sub-division and see what happens. You'll have the owners association breathing down your neck the minute you try to use it.

People just don't understand technology. The simplest devices are scorned, then made illegal to own or operate. Granted, setting one up can take some time and ingenuity and quality replacement parts can be tricky to find. But the money I save justifies the initial investment.

The technology isn't perfect. It's OLD, but it's not perfect.

If it ever breaks down, I'll have to spend some time finding what I need to fix it. Getting the smaller replacement parts has been a real pain.

They just don't make good clothespins any more.

What?

Did you think I was talking about some high tech appliance?