Thinkingdog Publishing

I am tired. Not the “oh I stayed up a little too late reading” kind of tired. Not even the “my dog insisted 5:47 AM was a perfectly reasonable time to begin the day” kind of tired. No. I am the kind of tired that comes from falling down a social media rabbit hole so deep, I’m fairly certain I passed at least three alternate dimensions and a dancing algorithm named Chad. Somewhere along the way, I watched approximately ten thousand videos—give or take a dramatic exaggeration—on how to “optimize your content,” “hack the algorithm,” and “go viral overnight.” Yech. Every single one promised a formula. A trick. A secret. A step-by-step plan to become wildly successful if I would just… be slightly shinier, slightly louder, slightly more something . And do you know what I realized? None of them were me. Not one. I am not a 30-year-old with flawless contouring, botox and a ring light that could guide ships safely to shore. I do not have a “hot take” about anything except ...

There’s something wildly comforting about a simple phrase. “Just Do It.” It’s bold. It’s clean. It doesn’t overthink things. It doesn’t spiral into a late-night identity crisis while holding a cup of reheated coffee and wondering if it should also start a podcast, a newsletter, a YouTube channel, and possibly learn interpretive dance for marketing purposes. It just… does it. And honestly? That’s where the magic is. Because here’s what I’ve learned the hard way (and by “hard way,” I mean slightly frazzled, mildly sleep-deprived, and being judged by a very fluffy Papillon named Blueberry): the moment we quietly sneak one tiny word into that phrase— all —everything changes. “Just Do It All.” Oh. Oh no. Now suddenly we are no longer inspired athletes in a motivational montage. We are overwhelmed authors staring at a never-ending checklist that includes social media posting schedules, ad campaigns, newsletter funnels, branding strategies, reader magnets, SEO optimization, an...

There is a myth floating around the internet. A persistent little fairy tale. Apparently, somewhere between publishing my first cozy mystery and lovingly introducing the world to magical dogs, ghosts, and small-town secrets, I became independently wealthy. I would very much like to know when that happened. Because according to my inbox, I am absolutely swimming in consultant-level disposable income. Every single day, without fail, I receive approximately seven emails. Sometimes more. They arrive like clockwork. They are polite. They are enthusiastic. They are confident. “Dear Author, Let me put your book on my premium reader list.” Which book, my friend? I have fifteen. Are we talking about the one with the ghost? The one with the magical Papillon? The one with the small-town murder wrapped in Christmas cookies and secrets? A hint would be delightful. Next email. “Let me optimize your categories and keywords.” Marvelous. Again — which book? I would love to know whi...

  I have a confession. You may have noticed that I give books away. A lot. It’s not because I enjoy throwing my hard work into the literary void like a parade float tossing candy to a sugar-starved crowd (though that does sound fun). No, there’s a method to my madness. A sneaky, strategic, brilliant (if I do say so myself) plan behind the generosity. But before we get to that, let’s talk about something I have waxed poetic about many times: Amazon reviews. If you’ve followed me for a while, you know I treat book reviews like they’re a rare and precious mineral. You may have even caught me dramatically swooning over a five-star review. (Or whispering sweet nothings to my laptop screen when a particularly glowing review comes in. Don't judge.) The truth is, for indie authors like me, reviews aren’t just nice—they’re survival. They tell Amazon’s mysterious algorithm that my books are worth recommending to new readers. They help readers decide if my story about a ghostly sidekic...

I want to create an Audiobook - should I?  Ever since the release of book one in the "Cannabis Preacher" series of thrillers, that question has been on my mind.  The "Cannabis Preacher" books were quite long. To produce an audiobook from each of the four, including voice actors and audio production with a turn key service, I was looking at around $15,000 per book. Financially, that was a non-starter for me at the time. That amount represented a LOT of books and audiobooks to sell to recover the investment, and I shelved my plan again.  With the popularity of the "Magical Papillon" cozy mystery series, I found myself coming back to the growing popularity of audiobooks. I knew that audiobooks could reach a wider audience and catered to busy readers who prefer listening while multitasking. The idea of bringing my characters to life through narration excited me, as it offered a new dimension to my storytelling.  The cozy mysteries were only 60-65,000...