And the Hits Just Keeeeep Oonnn Comin'

Just when I thought the deceit, the gouging, and the pilfering were distant scenes in my rear-view mirror, the gargantuan multinational gluttons enter stage left — bloated, smiling, and ready to take their slice of me.

If you've published a book, then you've probably lived out this scene. No doubt, it's a common bugbear for struggling authors and creatives like me. I'm sure the world is filled with disgruntled souls swallowing shit and pretending it tastes nice. Well, that's not me. That's not the Killian Kincade way.

See if you can follow along: you set a fair price for your first offering; a humble 250 page self-reflection piece you have poured your heart and soul over and into. You do it with integrity, because you actually give a damn about your readers and the message you want to share. You’re not trying to fleece anyone. You just want to share something real, something earned, pain endured that you think others can gain value from reading.

After all the setbacks and kicks in the head, the day finally arrives when that labour of love is shared with the world.

And that's when the system kicks in.

📉 The Setup

Tip #01: 'Standard Practice' translates to 'Strategic Pickpocket' in Greedian.

Let’s rewind. Calm Amidst the Chaos was meant to launch in July 2025. But thanks to a 'Seasoned New York Editor' who promised the world and delivered a mess, I lost six months and $1,500. Worse than the time and money, I lost faith.

I lost trust in the very industry I'm busting my balls to break into. As a consequence, I had to learn every aspect of the publishing process from scratch: artwork, layout and design, editing, proofing, ISBNs, metadata, distribution, checkout flows, marketing cadence; the whole damn rock show.

I would be lying if I said that betrayal didn't almost break me. But I licked my wounds until they healed, then picked myself up again thinking 'finally all the punches have been thrown'.

🕳 The Sinkhole

Tip #02: If your royalty can't buy you a potato chip, it's not partnership, it's plunder.

I thought my dues had all been paid. I thought I was finally on the race track and ready to race hard, but nnnooooo, I find out, I had merely jumped up a weight division and had to get back into the ring once more.

After doing the days and days of research required just to set the right price; I set up an account for distribution, input all the details including the ISBNs (yes, plural: don't get me started on that one) and hours later, finally arrived at setting the pricing. Hooray, I'm just about there.

What I wasn't prepared for was the 'wholesale discount'.

Let me break it down for you. I chose $16.99 AUD as the retail price. It's modest, affordable and although not going to make me rich, I probably won't have to eat out-of-date Two Minute Noodles from the seconds store for dinner every night.

The global distributor, the one who promises reach, credibility, and legitimacy, doesn’t just take a slice, they carve out a wallop: frankly I've got very little of my arse left to take.

There's a minimum of thirty‑five percent before you even blink and that's cooked into the code; you can't change it. And if you dare to question it, if you think maybe you can negotiate, think again, they’ve knitted fear into their documentation.

In the not-so-small print, they whisper about 'industry norms,' they warn about 'retailer expectations,' and state if you don't conform to Standard Practice of fifty‑five percent (as if it’s gospel), your book is unlikely to be picked up by retail outlets, both online and bricks and mortar. It’s not advice, it’s coercion. It’s Greedian scripture designed to make you believe that daylight robbery is the only way forward.

I swallowed that bitter pill, thinking maybe that was the cost of entry. Maybe it's the toll you pay to play in the big leagues. I swallowed my pride (and my angst - you can read about it in my book) and lifted the retail price to $22.99 so I could barely break even, then went outside and punched myself in the face repeatedly.

But just as I was coming to terms with that gouge, the multinational online retailer stepped into the ring.

Here was I champing at the bit to finally see my work out there in the real world, only to have the joy sucked out of me once more. The major global online retailer, the smiling giant that everyone tells you is essential, sank their shipping fee into the retail price.

My original retail price of $16.99 went to $22.99 (of which I get $2.89) to $32.23. And they don’t add it transparently, they don’t show it as a separate line item. Nnnnnooo, they bury it in the cost of the book itself, so the reader pays more, the author earns less, and the machine grins while it pockets the difference.

That was the moment the floor gave way. I set a fair price, the audience paid a premium, and I was left with $2.89. Less than the cost of a potato chip. Less than the bus fare to the shop that sells the damn book.

🔎 The Learning

Tip #03: Truth is the only weapon left in a system that disguises exploitation as opportunity.  

But what makes my wine taste like piss is the retailer's revenue sits at six hundred and twenty billion dollars, the distributors at fifty‑one billion, while we, the honest, hard working people creating the stuff, end up with a handful of coins rattling in the bottom of a tin.

It’s not just numbers. It’s the bitterness of constant clashes with corporate greed. Every step forward feels like another punch in the gut, another reminder that the system isn’t broken, it’s built this way. Built to siphon, skim, and engineered to convince us that exploitation is opportunity.

And we're supposed to smile, swallow it, and pretend it tastes nice. But I won’t. Not now, not ever.

So what's the lesson here? What wonderful insights do I have for you that shifts the needle against this outrageous imbalance in equity? Unfortunately not much other than fight back, which admittedly, is getting harder and harder. With each passing year the machine gets stronger and our options plummet on a diminishing scale.

So, truth is all I have to offer: The retailer decided to slap on an extra $10. Why? Because they offer 'free shipping.' Which, of course, isn’t free, it’s baked into the fucking price. They absorb the shipping cost into the retail mark-up, and we creatives get none of it. And don't you dare try to tell me there's not a small 'admin fee' of some kind that goes straight to the bottom line of the online retailer.

Wake up Amigo! Let's do the math:

• 300,000,000 print books per year

• $1.35 of the shipping cost unaccounted for by the boots on the ground third parties

• $17.50 average price per print book

• = USD $405,000,000 siphoned by the 'shipping illusion'

That’s not a typo. That’s the truth. We product producers get less than the cost of a jelly bean while their shipping buffer, their algorithmic mark-up rakes in half a billion dollars, all while they pretend they’re doing us a favour. Give me a break!

🕳The Closing Thought

Tip #04: If you want equity, stop feeding the giants your magic beans.

The Paradox of Publishing

So here’s the paradox. We’re damned if we do, damned if we don’t. We either suck up getting gouged by the giants or we get ghosted by the gatekeepers.

Is there any silver lining? Well, nothing that's going to quickly shift things in a big way. But I do have this:

• Build your own vault: It’s harder, it’s slower, but it’s yours. Develop your online presence and leverage the clout of the machine to drive traffic there. That way you control the game, you set the price. I have my first book on sale on my website Paradiddle Publishing for $16.99 plus postage. The reader pays a fair price, and after shipping costs, I may be able to add supermarket brand tomato ketchup to my out-of-date Two Minute Noodles.

• Lean into eBooks: The machine takes a smaller slice here (for now). Use it. It's not perfect but it's a foothold.

• Explore audiobooks: Technology is developing at a pace that is spinning the heads of even its creators. Creating quality audio is no longer a barrier. Audio gives you another channel to reach readers and a greater opportunity to make your wares more affordable.

• Create direct-to-reader subscriptions: memberships or Patreon-style tiers let your readers support you directly. In return, you offer something extra like early drafts, bonus content, or behind-the-scenes viewing.

• Grow your mailing list: It's community, not dependency. A chorus is harder to silence than a soloist.

• Host live sessions: Readings, Q&As, salons - they build intimacy and remind your readers you're real. Yes it's a slow burn and a tough slog, but so is being paid $0.0116 per page of your heart and soul.

• Offer bundles and extras: Signed copies, essays, bookmarks, companion pieces. Small touches that giants can't replicate.

Here's the dirt. Your readers can either buy your book direct for a fair price, or they can pay $32.23 online and pretend the shipping is free. But it's not their call, it's yours. It's all about how you market your wares and promote the truth. I know developing your own online presence is a harder road, but sometimes, that road leads to a better future for all concerned.

This blog's image says it all. The disbelief. The absurdity. The rage. It’s funny, but it’s prophetic. It’s the face of every author who’s ever been shafted by a system that pretends to care.

So what are you going to do now? Send me a message, or let's connect on your preferred social platform. I don't frequent social media, but when I'm jacked in, I do so with purpose and focus and I will always respond to you.

So, where does that leave us? Firstly, I hope that this is the last sour blog from me for a while. I want to write about the uplifting side of being a successful author but to be fair, it feels like the gut punches have been coming thick and fast since this journey began.

Secondly, I don't know about you but I’ve had enough. Enough of the lies, of the mark-ups, of the betrayal. Enough of being siphoned in silence. The bottom line is, this paradox ends when we stop playing their game.

So here’s my message:

Stop asking for permission. Stop waiting for validation. Stop playing the game.
Build your own vault. Forge your own cadence. Launch your own myth.

Now — it’s our turn.

Greedian (n.)

The language spoken by corporatocracies, boardrooms, and publishing platforms when they dress theft in legitimacy.

A dialect where “partnership” means profit siphon, “standard practice” means strategic pickpocket, and “royalty” translates to crumbs swept from their banquet table.

Fluent speakers smile while they skim, cloak gouging in jargon, and convince creators that exploitation is opportunity.