The $0.99 Deal That... Wasn’t Quite

When I first set up a Kindle Deal for The Order of the Sacred Vow, I was genuinely excited. I’d timed it for June 1–8, eager to give readers a full week to discover Portia’s story at just $0.99. It felt like a generous re-introduction of the novella’s new edition. But here’s what happened—and what I’ve learned.

By the end of the deal, the price had crept back up close to its original. Some readers missed the offer entirely. And that’s on me.

And if you’re an indie author navigating the wild west of Amazon marketing? Learn from me: read the fine print, monitor your deal daily, and keep your readers in the loop.

Thank you for your patience—and for continuing to dream with me in the world of Amorphya.

—Jasmine 💚

What began as a design refresh quickly became something deeper.

I made the decision to unpublish the old versions of Poems from a Monster, The Order of the Sacred Vow, and The Fruits of Earth. I thought I’d simply reformat them, maybe adjust a few things. Nothing major. I needed a break from the emotional gravity of the Galatean Saga—after two years immersed in the story of Bem Parkett, I needed a breather. (And if you’ve ever read my acknowledgements for KoS: Invasion, you’ll know just how over-emotional that journey was.)

But as I opened those old files, something unexpected happened: I rediscovered the reasons I wrote them in the first place.

From Short Story to Full Novella

For Poems from a Monster, I added new pieces—verses written over the seven years since its original release. For The Order of the Sacred Vow, the transformation was even more dramatic: what was once a 5,500-word short story is now a 25,000-word novella. The second edition isn’t just longer—it’s deeper. More immersive. More me.

I expanded Portia’s arc, added psychological nuance, and wove in stronger threads of mystery and philosophical tension. I clarified the worldbuilding of Amorphya, making it feel lived-in and fractured, as it always should have been. It’s not just a facelift. It’s a new incarnation of a story that’s haunted me for years.

A Return to Themes That Still Matter

What surprised me most was how relevant the original themes still are to me now. Even across all my other work—including The Galatean Saga and even some of my poems—there’s one thread I keep pulling:

I’m endlessly fascinated by belief.

By what happens when people hold their convictions tightly enough to act on them. By the fallout of those actions. By the moment faith becomes doubt—or deeper faith.

With a background in sociology and human resources, and now working in engineering, I guess it makes sense. I’ve always been drawn to the structures behind human behavior. What shapes individuals? What fuels collective movements? What happens when ideology turns into action?

The Order of the Sacred Vow explores all of that. And this new edition lets it breathe in ways it couldn’t before.

So here we are. A second edition. A new beginning for a story I never really let go of.

Thank you for reading—and for walking into Amorphya with me once more.

Scoring the Sacred: A Soundtrack for Portia’s Journey

As the new edition of The Order of the Sacred Vow took shape, I found myself hearing it—literally. The sounds of Amorphya, the silence before a sacred strike, the chants of devotion before doubt. I began composing and curating an original concept album to score the novella’s emotional landscape. Each track maps to key moments, characters, and philosophical beats in the story. It’s music not just for ambiance—but for immersion.

You can now listen to the full concept album on Bandcamp, or stream it directly from my blog. Think of it as a soundscape for your reading, or a companion for your own reflections on belief, duty, and what lies beyond obedience.

🎧 Listen Now: The Order of the Sacred Vow

My mother raised me and my older brother on her own—our father left before I ever met him. All I know about him is what my mother told me: he was good with his hands: calligraphy, drawing, and woodburning. 

And I guess, somehow, I got that creativity from him, too. Also from my mother, who appears to have no creative bone in her, and yet she tells some stories with the power of conjuring images and feelings and build up worlds with nothing but spoken words.

We Had Nothing—But We Had Imagination.

We didn’t have toys, not really. But we had stories. Our favorite game was called “let’s pretend.” We didn’t know it at the time, but we were playing role-playing games—with our words, our voices, and the fierce worldbuilding that only two children who have nothing but each other can create.

That instinct—to imagine, to tell stories, to build entire lives in silence—never left me.

First, it came out in drawings. The halls of my school were covered in my watercolors.

Then came poetry. A teacher once referred me to a local publisher. I was so proud—until I realized the man behind the “opportunity” was just another predator hiding behind polite words. I learned something important then: in this world, talent is never enough. Especially if you’re a girl. Especially if you’re poor. Especially if you refuse to play someone else’s game.

So I Chose Survival.

I knew I wouldn’t make it as an artist—not without connections, not without money, and not without selling pieces of myself I wasn’t willing to give.

So I did what many of us do: I chose learning.

University. Master’s. A career that could pay the bills and help my aging mother—the woman who worked 40 years as a seamstress without ever compromising her values, even when there was nothing in the fridge and bills piling up.

I didn’t want to starve as an artist, because I already had as a kid.

I remember going to the flea market as a twelve-year-old to sell things from our home just to make it to my mother’s next salary. That kind of memory doesn’t fade—it etches itself into your bones.

But it didn’t kill my imagination. It only made me more determined...

My First Computer Was a Portal.

I didn’t get a computer until university. We couldn’t afford one before that. But when I finally did, it was like someone handed me a key to a locked room inside my chest.

I made flipbook animations with paper and pen before I ever had a mouse. Then Paint. Then Windows Movie Maker—slow, glitchy, but magic. I dabbled in sound, in images, in every medium that would have me.

Not because I wanted to be famous, but because I couldn’t stop imagining.

I didn’t call myself an artist.

But I never stopped being one.

And Now I Use AI—And I’m Told That Makes Me Fake?

Today, I finally have access to tools I only dreamed of growing up. I can write the stories in my head and score them. I can build worlds where words and music and images intertwine.

I can give voice to a saga I’ve carried in silence for years—stories like Moonborn and the Galatean Saga, where sound is emotion, and emotion is survival.

And now that I can make music, really make it... I'm told it doesn't count because I used AI.

As if anyone who’s never seen the years I spent reaching for creation has the right to tell me what I am.

And because I use tools like Suno or ElevenLabs or Midjourney or Kling to build what I couldn't afford to create any other way—I’m told I’m not a “real” artist?

By people who didn’t see the market stalls.

Didn’t see the paper sketches.

Didn’t see the girl who was told not to bother learning guitar because the family couldn’t afford one.

Didn’t see the poems that never got published because a man wanted something in return.

Didn’t see me learning, experimenting, failing, trying again—for years—just for the joy of it.

That judgment hurts.

But I won’t let it stop me.

Because these stories inside me—they’re mine.

And no one gets to take them away.

For Anyone Who’s Felt the Same

If you’ve been dismissed, laughed at, talked over—

If you’ve been told that AI tools are “cheating,” or that your voice isn’t real because it’s carried by new technology—

I want you to know this:

You are not fake.

You are not less.

You are not late.

You are not alone.

You’re a creator.

And the way you create doesn’t need to fit someone else’s mold.

It just needs to be yours.

I’m Still Here. Still Making. Still Imagining.

I may not have started with much.

But I have this now:

A voice. A story. A universe.

And the tools to finally bring it to life.

AI didn’t hand me a shortcut.

It handed me back a dream I thought I’d never reach.

So no, I’m not here to argue about whether it’s “real.”

I’m just here to create.

And if you're the same—welcome.

Keep building. Keep dreaming.

We’re the real ones.

The quiet ones.

The ones who never stopped imagining.

I Wasn’t Supposed to Be an Artist. But I Never Stopped Creating.

Recently, as I dusted off my social media presence in anticipation of releasing my Galatean Saga, I started re-engaging with author groups and communities I used to be a part of. After several years of focusing solely on writing rather than networking, I was eager to reconnect with fellow authors, share experiences, and navigate the ever-evolving world of book marketing. However, what I found left me deeply concerned.

A new breed of so-called "marketing gurus" has flooded the space, preying on hopeful authors with big dreams and little experience in book promotion. These self-appointed "experts" promise to transform your book into an international bestseller overnight. They claim to have the "secrets" of Amazon algorithms, the "strategies" for viral social media campaigns, and the "connections" to turn unknown authors into household names. Yet, when you scratch beneath the surface, their own followings are minuscule (often 50-100 followers), their engagement is almost nonexistent, and their credentials amount to little more than empty buzzwords.

And yet—they're everywhere. In the past week alone, I’ve been messaged by at least ten of them, all promising me the moon and stars for a hefty price. Their aggressive sales tactics target indie authors, self-publishers, and aspiring writers desperate to get their books noticed in an oversaturated market. Sadly, they wouldn’t be thriving if there weren’t victims—authors who, in good faith, invest in their empty promises, only to be left with nothing but a lighter wallet and disappointment.

The Red Flags of a Scammy "Marketing Expert"

If you’re an author navigating book promotion, here are a few red flags to watch out for:

1. Zero Proven Track Record – They claim to know how to make your book a bestseller, but they’ve never successfully done it for themselves or anyone else. Ask for case studies, testimonials from real authors, or concrete evidence of past successes. Most of these "gurus" can’t provide them.

2. Vague or Exaggerated Claims – "I will make you an Amazon #1 Bestseller in 24 hours!" or "I have a network of influencers ready to promote your book!" If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Book marketing is a marathon, not a sprint.

3. No Engagement, No Audience – Look at their own social media presence. If they can’t successfully market themselves, how will they market you?

4. High Fees with No Clear Deliverables – Some charge exorbitant fees for things like "social media management" or "Amazon optimization" but never explain what that actually entails.

5. Pressure Tactics – "You need to act now to get this limited-time deal!" No legitimate marketing professional will rush you into a financial decision.

What Real Book Marketing Looks Like

Book marketing is complex, and while hiring experts can be beneficial, there are real professionals out there who rely on transparent strategies, data, and experience. Instead of throwing money at the first person who promises success, consider:

• Reputable Book Promotion Services – Sites like BookBub, NetGalley, and Kindle Unlimited promotions are legitimate ways to gain visibility.

• Organic Platform Building – Genuine engagement with your audience through social media, blogging, or email newsletters is invaluable.

• Networking with Real Authors – Join communities where successful authors share their strategies and recommendations.

• DIY Marketing Education – There are great resources available for free or at reasonable prices. Books like Let’s Get Digital by David Gaughran offer real, actionable advice.

Final Thoughts

Writing a book is hard. Marketing it is even harder. But the worst thing an author can do is waste time, energy, and money on predatory "gurus" who exploit the challenges of book promotion. If you’re an indie author, remember—no one cares about your book as much as you do. Arm yourself with knowledge, seek out reputable advice, and most importantly, trust your instincts. If someone slides into your DMs promising overnight success, tell them thanks—but no thanks.

Have you encountered these self-proclaimed marketing experts? Share your experience in the comments!