I love Amazon. It is a cargo cult. I click around the site and a couple of days latter my self-gifts appear over the horizon and are unloaded. Presents appear at Christmas from them via friends unsummoned.
Amazon is a virtual Santa Claus.
What is even more exciting is watching my novel on the Amazon charts. Like a proto-pop star I’m riveted narcissistically to my own rise and fall.
Suddenly I’ve shot up from 300,000 to 1200 and hit 32 overall in Thrillers. As this is my first book, it is a ‘noob’ pleasure to be flanked by John Le Carre, Oscar Wilde, Lee Childs and Dan Brown.
As Miss Piggy might say "Moi!?!"
Armageddon Trade did hit number 8 in Thrillers in the summer and skimmed the top 100 overall in books. But this was only a few days of delight until Amazon went out of stock and I plummeted from A list to non-entity faster than an X-factor finalist.
Now days from Christmas Im back flying high.
Its strange to have this funny little dream of minor bestseller-dom come true. It was the visualisation of future success that kept me going as a forlorn unpublished author slogging up the mountain that is writing a novel.
Like actual mountain climbing, the view from the top lasts for only moments, so Im going to enjoy it.