“As always”: This past summer I experiment with charging money for my Smashwords titles, just to see if people who paid would be more likely to write more positive reviews, This was based on a hunch about how people feel about “value” (My bottle of Ibuprofen is “value sized”, where ‘value’ means nothing more than ‘more’). Wrong.
It didn’t make any difference. I still saw the same range of reviews. I’m glad about that. I’d be disappointed in people if they felt they had to say something nicer simply because they shelled out a buck.
So that’s the end of the experiment, and all my books are free again from Smashwords and their affiliates (Apple, Barnes & Noble, Sony, Kobo, etc …). I’m relieved about that too, because my stories were nagging me – hey, they said, we want to be read, not sold! it didn’t cost you anything to write them, did it? so what the heck? (although they did not use such polite language).
the end of writing a story is always a strange feeling for me – part of me is still thinking about it, while most of me is moving on. By now I’ve written so many of the darn things they’re beginning to feel like a box of too many Christmas tree ornaments. They all have sentimental value, but there’s only so much room on the tree!