I occasionally sell special editions of my books through Kickstarter, which is a crowdfunding platform described in detail below. Sometimes those “Kickstarter campaigns” are for new-release books and sometimes they’re for classic reader favorites that I’ve decided to create beautiful collectors’ versions of. It can be either or both, but you should know that no matter what, Kickstarter is a “special occasion” sort of thing: I promote them for a short time, and then those special-occasion campaigns end.

I don’t launch EVERY new book on Kickstarter (and I don’t do a special-edition Kickstarter campaign for every book in my backlist), but a few times a year, I’ll run one of these campaigns. For that reason, I decided to write this guide for people who don’t yet understand the whole “Kickstarter thing” in the hope that when my next campaign rolls around, you’ll understand what’s going on and might choose to join me and my most fervent fans in all the special-edition excitement.

Anyway, I guess we should start with the most obvious question:

What the hell is Kickstarter?

If you’re asking, it’s probably easiest to understand if you have an actual example to look at. So:

Click here to open the Kickstarter campaign for my book Gore Point in a new browser window.

NOTE: The above-linked campaign ended in mid 2024. You’re viewing its archived campaign for reference, but you can’t buy from it anymore. (See Point #1 below.)

Kickstarter is a creative crowdfunding platform. It’s not charity and it’s not begging, which are two misconceptions I’ve heard plenty. You can ask people to help you pay your rent on GoFundMe or IndieGoGo, but not on Kickstarter. Kickstarter projects must have creative merit. The whole point is to allow creators to test far-out ideas by seeing if people will buy them in advance. 

Personally, I use it because it allows me to play a bigger and better game than I could without the support of Kickstarter backers. 

As an Artisan Author, I want to make beautiful books. To me, that means elegant hardbacks with texture on the dust jacket and the book itself – maybe foil stamped, maybe with spot UV treatment that makes certain parts elevated and shiny, maybe with embossing, debossing, sprayed edges, custom endpapers (that first sheet you see when you open a hardback), ribbon bookmarks, maybe interior illustrations … you get the idea. 

I’d never be able to sell books like that through the usual routes, but Kickstarter eats them up. Voila! Suddenly I’m able to feasibly offer beautiful books (or even just plain ebooks for people who want to read them early but don’t care about special editions) in the campaign, then release those books in the normal ways and places later on.

What’s especially cool is that in addition to just letting me sell beautiful books, Kickstarter also lets me create all sorts of bonuses to go with them.

Through Kickstarter, I can offer signed books. I can offer things like audio commentary. I can offer extra-book bonuses, exclusive bundles … even in-person meetups. If you still have that other window or tab open showing my Gore Point Kickstarter (link above), take a look at the rewards on that page to see what I mean. Very little of what you see being offered there is reasonable (or even possible) without the excitement of a campaign. 

In brief, Kickstarter lets me reward my most enthusiastic fans. Readers who join my Kickstarter campaigns get my best books earlier than anyone else, and in some cases get stuff that nobody else will ever be able to buy. 

Got it? Cool. Okay, so here’s another question you might be asking:

Why go to all that trouble? Why complicate the book-launch process like this? Why can’t you just release your books on Amazon and other stores from the start like everyone else?

There’s a simple answer to this. It’s not black and white (seeing as I won’t ALWAYS release first on Kickstarter or another non-Amazon platform), but what’s true is true … and what’s true, for authors like me, is this:

Building an author platform on Amazon is a terrible idea. 

Amazon can – and often does – change the rules for authors whenever they want. They can (and have) cut royalties, closed author accounts for no reason at all (and then refused to explain why), or hidden a given author’s books from search so they can promote other books that make Amazon more money instead. The other bookstores are better, but it’s still unwise to build your empire entirely on ground owned by any company other than your own. 

It’s necessary for authors to publish on Amazon and I’m grateful for the opportunity, but honestly it’s become a shit show in the past few years. I publish every book there at some point, but it’s my least favorite choice and therefore sometimes comes last in line.

Now, I want to be crystal clear at this point: If you prefer to buy books on the usual bookstores instead of on Kickstarter or my store, awesome! I love that you want to read my books and you should get them however is best for you. It’s just that sometimes I need to look out for myself, and that may sometimes mean that Kickstarter or buying direct from my store comes first … and the other stores come second.

Okay. Now that we’ve made our little side jaunt into “why not,” let’s get back to Kickstarter. If you’re considering supporting one of my Kickstarter campaigns (which means the same as “buying one of my books on Kickstarter”). Here are some things to know: 

Point #1: Kickstarter campaigns run for a limited time.

The first thing to keep in mind is that Kickstarter isn’t forever. Campaigns are limited-time launch-style events that begin and then end, and after they close down, they’re closed forever. If you want to buy something from a Kickstarter campaign (for me, it’s usually special-edition books and cool bonus stuff to go with it), you have to do it while the campaign is running. Most campaigns last between 14 and 30 days, though some outliers are shorter or longer.

After that, the page stays on Kickstarter, but it’s inactive. You can look at it, but you can’t join it (i.e. “buy stuff from it”) anymore.

Point #2: The purpose of Kickstarter is to show creators (like me) whether or not a project is worth doing.

Personally, I use Kickstarter as a way to gauge interest in versions of a book that cost money to produce and are only worth making if people actually want to buy it. Kickstarter answers that question for me: If enough people join (buy into, or “back”) the campaign that it reaches its “funding goal” (an amount of money that the creator (me) has decided is “enough to make it all worthwhile,” I create the special edition books and send them out.

If the project doesn’t reach its funding goal (something that’s never happened to me, but it does happen), the whole thing just fizzles out: backers don’t pay and the creator doesn’t make and deliver anything. When you back a campaign, you’re pledging to it, not really paying just yet, so your credit card is only charged if the campaign is successful. If it’s not, your card isn’t charged.

POINT #3: Buying a book on Kickstarter doesn’t have to be confusing or difficult or weird.

If all you want is a plain old ebook, cool! You can choose to only buy a single ebook in my Kickstarter campaigns, same as you’d normally do. The process of buying is a little different, but that’s all it is: buying a normal ebook. (And no, “a little different” doesn’t mean “hard.” It’s not difficult to get or read an ebook sold through Kickstarter (or my store) … and after you do it once, you’ll have no problems at all in the future.)

But you don’t have to stop at ebooks. You can buy normal paperbacks, normal hardbacks, signed paperbacks and hardbacks, and more.

Also, this is worth noting: If you do opt for a physical book, you’ll ALSO get the ebook! Every physical-book-buyer also receives the ebook version to read while they wait for the physical book to arrive.

That brings us to another point: On Kickstarter, most backers end up with bundles of goodies … not just a plain old book! (Again, just look through the “Rewards” section to see what I mean. Everything higher than the $10 “ebook only” level has more than just one thing in it.

POINT #4: “Tiers,” “Backers,” “Rewards,” and other Kickstarter jargon really just amounts to “buying stuff.” 

On Kickstarter, instead of buying single items that you then receive right away, you instead “back the campaign” at whatever monetary level you choose … and get the reward for that level of “backing.”

But don’t let the jargon confuse you. It all boils down to simply buying stuff today that you’ll receive after the campaign (which runs for a limited time) ends.

Different “tiers” of support are listed along the side of the page (or in a different tab on the same page, depending on what device you’re using). Each tier comes with a different set of items that you get if you “back” at that tier level. Kickstarter calls those items “backer rewards” because you (the backer) will be rewarded by me for supporting the campaign after the campaign is over.

I know it’s confusing at first, but in the end, despite using words like “tiers,” “backers” and whatnot, a Kickstarter transaction is still just an exchange of money for stuff (just books, or books and other cool reads).

So for instance, if you “backed the Gore Point campaign” at the $30 tier, your “rewards” for that tier are a paperback plus an ebook. There were 11 different tiers in that campaign, each offering different stuff that you’ll receive if you choose to “back” at that tier. 

POINT #5: You’ll get your stuff after the campaign ends. 

You get your stuff AFTER the campaign because in theory, Kickstarter creators are using their backers’ funds to MAKE the stuff they’re giving away as rewards. For authors, we usually have the books already made, but we don’t print them until we know how many copies to print and ship, as determined by the campaign.

Make sense?

Not getting your stuff instantly might seem like a downside, but try to remember that the campaign exists TO HELP CREATE the best books I can. You’re my co-creator, and we’re building the books together. 

Normally, readers don’t even have access at that early stage. Normally, readers have to wait until months and months later, after the author makes safe and conservative (i.e., NON-awesome) guesses at how much to invest in their books, and then has to upload, print, and release them. 

You’re not actually getting your stuff LATE if you buy on Kickstarter. You’re actually getting these books months before everyone else, even if there’s a delay between the time you “order” them (i.e., “back the campaign”) and when you receive them. In most cases, the books aren’t even on Amazon and the other stores until several months later. 

Kickstarter backers get first access if Kickstarter is involved at all. Period.

POINT #6: It’s fun as hell, and it brings the Truantverse community together!

Kickstarter is its own community, and individual campaigns are something groups of like-minded people do together. That’s what makes it so cool: Instead of ME making books, WE ALL make them together. 

WE decide how good the books get.

WE decide what bonuses end up being offered. 

WE co-create … because I can’t be an artisan author without a bunch of amazing artisan readers.

POINT #7: If you’e like, you can always ignore my Kickstarter campaigns and just wait to buy books in the usual way.

Still not into the idea of Kickstarter for new books? That’s fine! Just because I might choose to launch a book on Kickstarter first (which will happen for some but not all of my books) doesn’t mean you have to buy it there. If you prefer, you can just wait until I release that book on “normal” bookstores like Amazon, which usually happens a few months after the Kickstarter ends.

It’s all good, however you choose to read!

Still have questions? Ask them in the comments!

The post What’s this weird-ass thing about you “releasing some of your books on Kickstarter,” Johnny? appeared first on Johnny B. Truant.

I always wanted to be an author. Not all authors can say that, but I can. I remember sitting on my grandparents’ porch in Bradenton, Florida, maybe eight years old, banging the keys of their ancient typewriter. The typewriter sat inside an openable shell with a handle, like a heavy little suitcase. I have no idea what I wrote on that porch (it’s been lost to the sands of time), but I know for sure that my first work contained an illustration of a bad guy exploding on a sci-fi fence after being shot with a sci-fi laser weapon. There was much sizzling and fire. 

I got a bit more serious about my author career in college and began submitting short stories to literary magazines. That’s the way things worked back then: You wrote something, then mailed it to a magazine to try to get it published. You then got a rejection letter from some weirdo with a power complex and did it all over again. The goal was to crush the writer’s spirit as quickly as possible. I literally papered my wall with rejection letters. 

When writing proved impractical, I instead got degrees in molecular genetics and philosophy. I also did this stupid shit to my hair:

Fortunately, it didn’t last long. My hair was back to normal by the time I asked Clinton’s secret service guys if we could get a picture together when Clinton spoke on the Oval at Ohio State University, which was good because they’d have arrested me if I still had the old hair.

After college, I started a PhD in genetics. Then I had some weird breakdown, quit everything, and thereby rendered all the money my parents spent on college useless and wasted.

Life happened. I was aimless and depressed, working as a barista at a Barnes & Noble cafe. My new wife supported us and began wondering why she’d been promised a PhD and ended up with a coffee jockey instead. I wrote sales copy, articles about Human Resources … any “writing work” I could find, since barista’ing didn’t pay too well. 

After a series of events you won’t care about, I met my friend and eventual writing partner Sean Platt. We wrote approximately 100 bazillion words together (not an exact count) and published them as ebooks. The DIY publishing world was new then, so we grew along with it. We had a podcast. We wrote books for authors. We tried to figure our things out while the industry figured its things out. 

There was a brief golden age. But then everyone started publishing, including a lot of people who either 1) didn’t care too much about storytelling but saw publishing as a get-rich-quick scheme or 2) did care about storytelling, but couldn’t stop to enjoy it because the only way to sell more books was to write more books. (This is where I remind you that I was one of the authors of Write. Publish. Repeat. and apologize for my part in flooding the market. There’s a whole lot of great, sincere, and talented writers out there … but let’s be real; there’s a lot of crap, too. ) 

There’s nothing wrong with writing and publishing a lot of books. I write fast, so Sean and I published plenty. At first it felt like a good thing, because we could tell more stories than the one-book-per-year trad publishing industry allowed. But then the whole hot mess turned into a slippery slope, and Kindle Unlimited turned a lot of reader paradigms from “buying a book” to “signing up for an all-you-can-eat-buffet,” and soon authors were telling us they couldn’t take vacations because they were like sharks now: If they stopped moving forward, they’d die. 

I left the indie publishing spotlight. I wrote quietly for five years in a self-imposed cave, aware that my books were selling less and less but still trying to keep up by mass action: by just writing more, pushing forward, and trying to pretend it was all still fun for me. 

Then, at the end of 2023, I emerged from my cave for the first time in years and attended a conference. What I saw there changed everything. 

Yes, most writers at the conference were still trying to beat the clock and stay ahead of the reaper by writing as fast as possible (by then, AI-writing had upped the ante, turning fast into even faster) … but a splinter group of authors was doing the opposite. That odd crew was slowing down instead of speeding up, taking more time and care with each book, and even making their books beautiful. Some were even creating special edition paperbacks and hardbacks — the kind of thing people collect and cherish. Those books were works of art in and of themselves, above and beyond just reading material. 

The new branch of artisan authors wasn’t trying to reach as many readers as possible (an approach that requires compromise, because mass-market writers must cater to mass-market wants, needs, and restrictions). Instead, they were starting to hyper-focus on getting just the right readers for their books instead of just any readers. They were, in other words, seeking quality readers over a quantity of readers. 

To put it another way, while most authors were continuing to go wider in their reach (more books, more readers, more advertising to get the word out there), this group was going deeper. 

More attention to each book. More attention to each reader. A focus on maximally serving their ideal people by being their own authentic selves as much as possible … instead of toning their style down so they could build a scalable, mass-producing publishing machine. 

I spent the rest of 2023 reinventing myself … which really means that I finally allowed myself to write and publish in the way I’d wanted to all along, but been warned never to do.

Fuck the old way. Fuck thinking like an algorithm and churning out mass pulp driven by mass-action tactics. Instead I leaned in, and started calling myself an “Artisan Author.”

Where I used to think more, I now think better. Where I used to think wider, I now think deeper. Whereas I used to focus on quantity, I see now that the changes in the market — and in my own world — give authors like me permission to de-emphasize quantity and focus on much more on quality instead. 

(Maybe this is where I should point out that I’ve written around 150 books, so my catalog is still big and I still work fast. Everything’s relative, people! Einstein taught us that.)

But you’re a reader, not an author. You probably don’t care what’s going on in publishing … just the books that come from it, and your experience in reading them. So what does all of this mean for you, the reader? How does my story about becoming an artisan author change the way I write, publish, and produce books for you to read? 

Well, it’s pretty simple: 

My books are normal books … but now I’m thinking of them as art projects, too. 

Maybe you don’t care. That’s fine. If you want, you can just buy my books and read them like any other. But if you truly love books, I think you’ll dig what I’ve been up to. I’ve been putting extra flare into them – thinking about the experience of holding a book in your hand, if you get it in paper. That’s what I mean by “art projects.” 

In my opinion, being truly immersed in a good book isn’t just about reading black and white words in order. That’s part of it, of course; without a good story, a book is just dressed-up pulp. But there’s more to it, in my mind … or at least there can be. 

I began thinking this while reconditioning some books that were originally published by my friends at Sterling & Stone. While I was reformatting and republishing them on my own, I decided to spruce them up a bit while I was moving things around.

The first book I did was Pretty Killer. The process was so badass. 

Most of my sales were and remain digital, but once I started thinking in artisan terms (which, by the way, began with the catchphrase “beautiful books”), I became hot to see what I could do with paperbacks. So that’s what I hit first, following my excitement in the way I always wanted to do.

This is Pretty Killer. I love this cover so much.

The thing to know about Pretty Killer (co-written with Sean Platt under the pen name “Nolon King”) is that it’s a dinner-party murder mystery. The adjectives that best describe the story are old Hollywood noir and feminine revenge. So, throughout, there’s this devious but extremely elegant interplay of terrible plots and refined snobbery. That’s basically my favorite thing to write. 

Because it had an elegant, haute cuisine feel to it, Sean had the idea to write Pretty Killer in Courses instead of Acts. He even had a friend who’s a professional chef create a menu for our fictional meal. 

From the beginning I thought: This is an elegant affair, so we need to present it elegantly. I thought it would be cool to create fancy images as section separators, and we could create an actual invitation to introduce the book. Problem was, that was a lot of work and it was out of my lane when the book was with S&S. Because it’d be a dick move to put a bunch of work on someone else’s desk and insist they do what I wanted, I let the idea go. We just used text as the separators, sub-optimal though it may have been.

Once I began revamping with “artisanship” in mind, though, I decided to change that. Here’s how the book begins now: 

I also decided that Sean’s chef friend’s fine menu deserved better than just a list of foods in Helvetica on an otherwise blank page, so I made up course cards.

There’s one for every section (Drinks, Appetizers, First Course, Second Course, Dessert, Digestif), but I’ll show you the Second Course one because I actually understand these foods, unlike the fancy stuff in others:

This last one is cool. See, there are clues throughout this book, and I needed places to hide them … and also a way to reveal all those connections at the end without doing the whole “naked exposition” thing. You know the naked exposition thing, right? It’s when, at the end of a mystery, the detective simply tells everyone what happened and how it all worked. I’m not a huge fan, personally.

We decided that the best way to handle our own reveals was to create a bunch of “found documents” and give them to the reader instead: diaries, police reports, and various paperwork.

In the original version of Pretty Killer, we again could only present those as plain text files. In this new version, though, I decided that presenting the found documents as actual found documents would be much cooler. 

This one won’t spoil anything. It’s the PDR entry for a drug we invented: 

To finish it off, I created chapter flourishes, background images to match the look and feel of the other elements, and more. It was a full day of what we used to call “non-productivity” in the non-artisan days. I wasted so much time! Only … it wasn’t a waste if I was having fun expanding my creativity in ways my readers were going to enjoy and benefit from, right? 

It’s so cool. Now, in addition to being just a book, every book is a tiny little art project. Most won’t need anything what I put into Pretty Killer so I’m sure the definition of “art project” will take on many different forms, but know that the attention is there. For one book, it might mean adding a bunch of bonus material. It might mean creating some sort of Easter egg hunt, or a beautiful special edition hardback with sprayed edges and gold foil stamping. It could be anything, as long as it’s creative and special. 

Who knows? It’s all play now … and just like my readers, I plan to follow the story and see what happens.

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