Self-published authors are fully aware that perhaps the easiest part of the writing journey is the actual writing. Well, compared to the marketing aspect I believe it is.
I have read a lot of articles, suggestions and tips and tricks to market the book to the reading public. It is, to say the least, a lot harder to market eBooks than perhaps their hard or paper-back relatives.
This is despite the millions of eReaders out there.
Then there is that other fickle part of the publishing cycle, the need for reviews.
Proper reviews of course.
As we are learning, reviews can be bought. And Amazon is out there seeking what it calls unverified reviews and the reviewers and it had brought with it very strict control over who can leave a review, especially on Amazon.
Another sote where reviews are taken seriously, is the Goodreads website where I have established a presence, and expect in due course, some reviews.
But, all the advice I have seen and read tells me that reviews should not be paid for, that reviews will come with sales. It might be a difficult cycle, more reviews means more sales, etc.
And getting those first sales …
Therein lies the conundrum. It is a question of paying for advertising or working it out for ourselves. I guess if I were to get more sales, I could afford the advertising … yes, back on the merry-go-round!
And yet, the harder the road, the more I enjoy what I do. It is exhilarating while writing, it is a joy to finish the first draft, it is an accomplishment when it is published, but when you sell that first book, well, there is no other feeling like it.
A fine day, on this trip a rarity, we decided to take the train to Windsor and see the castle.
This is a real castle, and still in one piece, unlike a lot of castles.
Were we hoping to see the Queen, no, it was highly unlikely.
But there were a lot of planes flying overhead into Heathrow. The wind must have been blowing the wrong day, and I’m sure, with one passing over every few minutes, it must annoy the Queen if she was looking for peace and quiet.
Good thing then, when it was built, it was an ideal spot, and not under the landing path. I guess it was hard to predict what would happen 500 years in the future!
I’m not sure if this was the front gate or back gate, but I was wary of any stray arrows coming out of those slits either side of the entrance.
You just never know!
An excellent lawn for croquet. This, I think, is the doorway, on the left, where dignitaries arrive by car. The private apartments are across the back.
The visitor’s apartments. Not sure who that is on the horse.
St George’s Chapel. It’s a magnificent church for a private castle. It’s been very busy the last few months with Royal weddings.
The Round Tower, or the Keep. It is the castle’s centerpiece. Below it is the gardens.
Those stairs are not for the faint-hearted, nor the Queen I suspect. But I think quite a few royal children and their friends have been up and down them a few times.
Self-published authors are fully aware that perhaps the easiest part of the writing journey is the actual writing. Well, compared to the marketing aspect I believe it is.
I have read a lot of articles, suggestions and tips and tricks to market the book to the reading public. It is, to say the least, a lot harder to market eBooks than perhaps their hard or paper-back relatives.
This is despite the millions of eReaders out there.
Then there is that other fickle part of the publishing cycle, the need for reviews.
Proper reviews of course.
As we are learning, reviews can be bought. And Amazon is out there seeking what it calls unverified reviews and the reviewers and it had brought with it very strict control over who can leave a review, especially on Amazon.
Another sote where reviews are taken seriously, is the Goodreads website where I have established a presence, and expect in due course, some reviews.
But, all the advice I have seen and read tells me that reviews should not be paid for, that reviews will come with sales. It might be a difficult cycle, more reviews means more sales, etc.
And getting those first sales …
Therein lies the conundrum. It is a question of paying for advertising or working it out for ourselves. I guess if I were to get more sales, I could afford the advertising … yes, back on the merry-go-round!
And yet, the harder the road, the more I enjoy what I do. It is exhilarating while writing, it is a joy to finish the first draft, it is an accomplishment when it is published, but when you sell that first book, well, there is no other feeling like it.
We were in London in Summer, it was a fine afternoon, going into the evening and we decided to get on the London Eye. As you can see from the clock it was near 7:00 pm.
This photo was taken as we were coming down.
Those long evenings were quite remarkable, not in the least going to a pub and sinking a few pints! There was one such pub not far from Charing Cross Station
This is the famous clock tower of the Flinders Street Station (the main train station for suburban trains) in Melbourne.
We were staying in a hotel (The Doubletree) directly opposite to the station and our room overlooked the station and the clock tower. I took photos of it during the day:
and this one, at night. It came out better than I thought it would.
A fine day, on this trip a rarity, we decided to take the train to Windsor and see the castle.
This is a real castle, and still in one piece, unlike a lot of castles.
Were we hoping to see the Queen, no, it was highly unlikely.
But there were a lot of planes flying overhead into Heathrow. The wind must have been blowing the wrong day, and I’m sure, with one passing over every few minutes, it must annoy the Queen if she was looking for peace and quiet.
Good thing then, when it was built, it was an ideal spot, and not under the landing path. I guess it was hard to predict what would happen 500 years in the future!
I’m not sure if this was the front gate or back gate, but I was wary of any stray arrows coming out of those slits either side of the entrance.
You just never know!
An excellent lawn for croquet. This, I think, is the doorway, on the left, where dignitaries arrive by car. The private apartments are across the back.
The visitor’s apartments. Not sure who that is on the horse.
St George’s Chapel. It’s a magnificent church for a private castle. It’s been very busy the last few months with Royal weddings.
The Round Tower, or the Keep. It is the castle’s centerpiece. Below it is the gardens.
Those stairs are not for the faint-hearted, nor the Queen I suspect. But I think quite a few royal children and their friends have been up and down them a few times.
It’s not for the faint-hearted, so that’s why we took the grandchildren skating.
Unless you are a skater of the roller variety there is little for the guardians to except sit back relax and listen to the head banging music that is luckily for us, of our era.
ACDC, ‘Thunderstruck’, over the loudspeaker system is just like being at a rock concert.
Little by little the floor starts to fill with skaters of all types of skill level from the side wall huggers to the almost falling over, and of course, the experts who glide effortlessly in and out of the novices.
First game of the night for anyone who can actually skate, collect little red witches hats, those that get one stay in, those that don’t, well, you know how this works
Fewer and fewer witches hats each time leads to an eventual winner, a youthful skater of considerable skill.
Now we have Queen. Not exactly headbanging but a classic, ‘We Are The Champions’. This cuts to a track by The Vapors. How do I know this? We have a video screen. I’m just surprised some of these songs had a video made of them.
Well, there is always Shazam.
The second game of the night; I think only the organizers know what it is about. I try to get the gist and instead wished music would come back.
Ok, those that couldn’t skate still can’t, and after an hour there is attrition. More room for those who can.
But wait there’s more, the doors are still open and more people are arriving.
And thankfully we’re back to ACDC.
I have three grandchildren out on the floor each with a varying grade of skill. They don’t do this very often so each session begins a little rusty and by the time they go home, it’s too soon to go. At least they can stay on their feet and not, as some do, crash into the walls, thinking that is the best way to stop.
Bring on the music! Next is the Divinyls.
Forget that, we now have Men At Work. ‘I Live in a Land Downunder’. I’m missing the full effect of the stadium sound because one of my charges had decided to practice in the baby pen, a small area set aside for beginner skaters to get their bearings, or practice before they go out on the main floor.
I suspect this is a ploy for her to get me to buy a slushy without the other two. Sadly that will not work. We’ll have to wait and see till after the session. Only an hour to go.
The sad pleading eyes are meant to weaken my resolve.
An exhibition of speed skating in different directions give our charges a chance to rest, relax, and have their slushies. A timely break before the last session.
But what the heck, we’ve got ‘you got nothing I want you’ve got nothing I need’. Good old head banging music. Then I’m in seventh heaven, with Michael Jackson blasting through the stadium. It’s not hard to imagine his ensemble dancing on the floor, ‘don’t stop till you get enough’.
Bring on the kaleidoscope lighting.
No, forget that just bring back ACDc. Oh, they just have. ‘Highway to hell’!
Last game of the night, just when the three girls are just about out of steam. Red Rover. They sit this one out, and as the skaters get fewer and fewer, the speed and evasiveness of those left is breathtaking, and end up with a few collisions with the floor.
Of course, it could easily be Collingwood depending on who you barrack for in the local football competition, as it is Fitzroy, but the map and my GPS tells me the street is, for all intents and purposes, in Fitzroy.
Not that there is a football team for Fitzroy any more, that moved north to Queensland a long, long time ago.
But…
Going for a wander up and down the street shows two or three very different sides to inner suburban living, and the effect that comes from a diverse range of cultures, the city has acquired over the past few decades.
Once viewed as almost the slums of Melbourne, these inner suburban areas have moved upscale to become havens for the more wealthy middle classes and a home for many diverse outlets, not the least of which are eateries.
And. In just this small section of Smith Street, there are a lot of eating establishments, from the Old Kingdom Peking duck restaurant to a small place selling Falafel, and then everything in between. It says a lot about how Australian eating habits have changed in a single generation, where back in those infamous old days you would be lucky to have a fish and chips/ hamburger shop and one or two Chinese restaurants.
Now, intermingled with gourmet bakeries and cozy coffee shops, there are a plethora of other eating establishments that cater to any cuisine you can imagine. In fact, it’s possible to dine out on a different cuisine every night for a fortnight and only traverse about half a kilometre up and down the street. It could be ideal if you lived in one of the small fronted houses just off the main carriageway in a leafy narrow side street or laneway.
And, as you would expect in an inner-city suburb, the streets are narrow and made more hazardous for traffic because of the trams, a familiar sight in many of the streets in this area, and a much-used form of transport for workers making the short trip into the city. It’s almost possible to take the extra half hour, and walk.
The street is lined with old buildings, some dating back to about 1868, there’s around the turn of the century, but most are not inhabited except for the street level where there is an eclectic mixture of furniture, haberdashery, and clothing stores catering to a particular group of people, what some call yuppies or upwardly mobile men and women who are between 25-35, with high paying jobs, and preferably no children.
Then there a subgroup walking there streets, homosexual men, some wheeling adopted children in pushers, others walking hand in hand out for a Saturday afternoon stroll where they can feel safe among many others. It’s very different from other places I’ve been, but one can imagine there are places like this in every city all over the world.
But as a backdrop to the appearance of wealth, the shopfronts that cater to those upwardly mobile upper middle classes, there’s that exact opposite in full view, the homeless, and beggars, sitting on the ground outside the more run down shops soliciting alms, asking for a spare dollar, and even one asking for a cigarette.
Everyone walks past them, imagining no doubt there are not there, or that if they ignore them, they will go away. I think not. And, I suspect, more will come out of their daytime hiding places and take up residence in Smith Street itself.
The only surprise is that the local council has not asked the police to move them on. It’s an interesting juxtaposition of inhabitants in an area that no doubt can only attract the upper middle classes, as anything and everything is relatively expensive, particularly real estate, and permit driven parking spaces.
Would I live here? No.
Would I come here to wine and dine?
Maybe, if I could get parking, which there appear to be very few spots or any other form of parking such as under the local supermarket which can be very expensive. And if you are lucky enough to find a spot, who has the time or the memory if continually feeding a parking meter every two hours, particularly if you’re having a good time.
Equally, it’s a place I would not feel comfortable, even if it was once a safe haven, which up to a few years ago, I’d probably think it not. In fact, at times I was not sure what to make of some of the people on the street, but I guess if I lived here, it would no doubt be the norm.
Would I recommend people to come here?
Of course. One of the more interesting places in Melbourne to experience grassroots cuisine that is incredibly diverse in it range and price, and even from a place with tables and chairs that may have seen better days, but you haven’t come to see the furniture.
And to my mind, the dining is definitely better, here than perhaps Carlton, which in itself is Mecca to a plethora of university types, both teachers and students alike, and the coffee culture that pervade that area of Melbourne.
I have no doubt you will come and leave with a very good opinion of the place.
As for me, I came here for an engagement party held at the Hotelito de Jesus, a Mexican restaurant, serving a variety of Mexican dishes. As I’m no expert of that particular cuisine, everything was going to be new.
It was. It’s spicy but not too spicy, the pork belly excellent, the canapés delicious, and both the mushroom-based and shredded beef based mini tacos were equally scrumptious.
All of this was washed down with two particular Mexican beers, two of several available in bottles, cans, or by the glass.
Oh, and you can get sangria by the jug too if you like. I would have, but my passion for trying different beers won out.
It’s not for the faint-hearted, so that’s why we took the grandchildren skating.
Unless you are a skater of the roller variety there is little for the guardians to except sit back relax and listen to the head banging music that is luckily for us, of our era.
ACDC, ‘Thunderstruck’, over the loudspeaker system is just like being at a rock concert.
Little by little the floor starts to fill with skaters of all types of skill level from the side wall huggers to the almost falling over, and of course, the experts who glide effortlessly in and out of the novices.
First game of the night for anyone who can actually skate, collect little red witches hats, those that get one stay in, those that don’t, well, you know how this works
Fewer and fewer witches hats each time leads to an eventual winner, a youthful skater of considerable skill.
Now we have Queen. Not exactly headbanging but a classic, ‘We Are The Champions’. This cuts to a track by The Vapors. How do I know this? We have a video screen. I’m just surprised some of these songs had a video made of them.
Well, there is always Shazam.
The second game of the night; I think only the organizers know what it is about. I try to get the gist and instead wished music would come back.
Ok, those that couldn’t skate still can’t, and after an hour there is attrition. More room for those who can.
But wait there’s more, the doors are still open and more people are arriving.
And thankfully we’re back to ACDC.
I have three grandchildren out on the floor each with a varying grade of skill. They don’t do this very often so each session begins a little rusty and by the time they go home, it’s too soon to go. At least they can stay on their feet and not, as some do, crash into the walls, thinking that is the best way to stop.
Bring on the music! Next is the Divinyls.
Forget that, we now have Men At Work. ‘I Live in a Land Downunder’. I’m missing the full effect of the stadium sound because one of my charges had decided to practice in the baby pen, a small area set aside for beginner skaters to get their bearings, or practice before they go out on the main floor.
I suspect this is a ploy for her to get me to buy a slushy without the other two. Sadly that will not work. We’ll have to wait and see till after the session. Only an hour to go.
The sad pleading eyes are meant to weaken my resolve.
An exhibition of speed skating in different directions give our charges a chance to rest, relax, and have their slushies. A timely break before the last session.
But what the heck, we’ve got ‘you got nothing I want you’ve got nothing I need’. Good old head banging music. Then I’m in seventh heaven, with Michael Jackson blasting through the stadium. It’s not hard to imagine his ensemble dancing on the floor, ‘don’t stop till you get enough’.
Bring on the kaleidoscope lighting.
No, forget that just bring back ACDc. Oh, they just have. ‘Highway to hell’!
Last game of the night, just when the three girls are just about out of steam. Red Rover. They sit this one out, and as the skaters get fewer and fewer, the speed and evasiveness of those left is breathtaking, and end up with a few collisions with the floor.
This is the famous clock tower of the Flinders Street Station (the main train station for suburban trains) in Melbourne.
We were staying in a hotel (The Doubletree) directly opposite to the station and our room overlooked the station and the clock tower. I took photos of it during the day:
and this one, at night. It came out better than I thought it would.
