Book Publishers To Avoid And New Author Scams
For getting your book published, you've gotta be careful.
When it comes to getting your book published, you've gotta be careful. Some publishing companies might seem nice, but they could be trying to trick you. Watch out for those that ask for a lot of money upfront. Also, be wary of self-publishing companies that don't have a good reputation. Avoid hybrid and vanity publishers too—they just want your money. To stay safe, ask for advice from other writers and do your homework. Look closely at any contracts before signing. Remember, good publishers will treat you fairly and be honest with you. Keep an eye out and protect your dreams!
About the Creator
Double9 Books
Double9 Books is a book publishing platform for all authors around the world. We are dedicated to offering the most comprehensive strategies for marketing and publishing books across the globe.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from writers in Art and other communities.
Tea set by a suffragette
Pankhurst is a name well known to the history of women’s suffrage. Who hasn't heard the name Emmaline Pankhurst, founder of the Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU), an all-women organisation campaigning for the right to vote? The group that helped to achieve the right to vote for women in Great Britain and Ireland in 1918. Some know of her daughter Christabel, both being honoured by the Pankhurst memorial in Victoria Palace Gardens, London, right next to the UK Parliament buildings. Sylvia Pankhurst is notably not included in the monument. Why? Because she split with the WSPU to campaign against Britain's entry into First World War.
By Raymond G. Taylor24 days ago in Art
Rising Tides
Mira stood on the crumbling edge of the boardwalk, watching the relentless waves crash against the sandbags hastily piled along the shore. The ocean, once a source of joy and tranquility, had become a menacing force, gnawing away at the town she had always called home. She wiped away a tear, feeling the sting of salt and loss. This was the third time in a month that the sea had breached the barriers, flooding streets and homes, and each time, the water seemed to creep a little further inland.In the distance, she saw her father and a few other townspeople stacking more sandbags, their faces etched with weariness and despair. Her father had been a fisherman all his life, and she could see the pain in his eyes as he watched the ocean that had provided for their family now threatening to destroy everything they had. Mira knew she had to do something. She had to fight for her home, for her family, for the future.Determined, Mira turned away from the churning waves and headed towards the town hall. The council meeting was already in progress, and she could hear the raised voices even before she reached the doors. Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Mayor Harding, an older man with graying hair and a furrowed brow, was trying to maintain order.“We need immediate solutions,” he was saying. “We don’t have time for lengthy discussions. Our town is drowning.”Mira took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Mayor Harding, with all due respect, we need more than just temporary fixes. We need a long-term plan to combat climate change. This isn’t just about sandbags and evacuations.”The room fell silent, all eyes turning to her. Mira felt her heart pound, but she continued. “We need to reduce our carbon footprint, invest in renewable energy, and work with other communities to push for stronger environmental policies. We can’t keep reacting to the damage. We have to prevent it.”A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, but not everyone was convinced. Councilman Reed, a stern man in his sixties, shook his head. “Idealism won’t save us, Mira. We need practical solutions that we can implement now.”“Practical solutions are important,” Mira agreed, “but we can’t ignore the bigger picture. If we don’t address the root cause of the problem, we’ll be fighting this battle forever. And it’s not just about us. It’s about our children and their future.”Her words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of what was truly at stake. The council members exchanged glances, and Mira could see a shift in their expressions. Hope, tempered with the weight of reality, began to take hold.The meeting adjourned with a promise to form a committee dedicated to exploring sustainable solutions. Mira felt a glimmer of hope as she left the town hall, but she knew the road ahead would be long and arduous. She decided to rally the community, organizing workshops and inviting experts to educate them on climate change and sustainable practices.Days turned into weeks, and Mira’s determination never wavered. She spent every waking hour spreading awareness, speaking at schools, and organizing beach cleanups. Her efforts began to bear fruit as more people joined the cause. The community garden project, aimed at promoting local agriculture and reducing carbon emissions, became a symbol of their collective commitment.Amidst the progress, Mira’s father grew weaker. Years of hard labor and stress had taken a toll on his health. Mira often found him resting on the porch, staring at the sea with a mixture of longing and resignation. She would sit beside him, holding his hand, and they would talk about the old days, when the ocean was their friend.One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the water, her father spoke softly. “You’re doing good work, Mira. I’m proud of you. But promise me, you won’t forget the joy this ocean once brought us.”Mira blinked back tears. “I won’t, Dad. I promise.”As winter turned to spring, the town’s efforts began to pay off. Solar panels adorned rooftops, wind turbines dotted the landscape, and the community garden flourished. The town was not only surviving but beginning to thrive, a testament to their resilience and determination.But the battle was far from over. Climate change was a global issue, and Mira knew that their small town’s actions, while significant, were just a drop in the ocean. She reached out to neighboring towns, forming alliances and advocating for stronger environmental policies at the state level. Her voice grew louder, gaining recognition and support.One morning, as Mira prepared for another trip to the state capital to speak before lawmakers, her father passed away peacefully in his sleep. The loss hit her hard, but she drew strength from his memory, from his love for the sea and the land. She vowed to continue the fight, not just for her town, but for every community facing the same challenges.Years passed, and Mira’s efforts blossomed into a statewide movement. Policies changed, industries adapted, and a new generation grew up with a deep respect for the environment. The coastline stabilized, and the town that once stood on the brink of disaster became a beacon of hope and resilience.Mira often walked along the shore, now fortified with natural barriers and thriving ecosystems. She would pause at the spot where her father used to fish, feeling his presence in the salty breeze and the rhythmic lull of the waves. The ocean, once a source of fear, had reclaimed its place in her heart as a symbol of beauty and strength.In the end, it wasn’t just the sandbags or the policies that saved them. It was the unyielding spirit of a community that refused to give up, led by a young woman who believed in a better future. Mira knew the fight against climate change was ongoing, but she also knew they had made a difference. And that, she thought, was worth every tear, every struggle, and every moment of hope.
By Babatola sefiu a day ago in Art
The Harvest
Koyi wobbled to her shabby wood and straw kaz, holding her machete and an old burlap bag with some yams. Someone had laid another basket in front of the patched up door—rose apples today. They were a bright reddish pink, looking waxy and crisp, just the way she liked them. The culprit knew her very well. Those would be crunchy, juicy and sweet—she could tell—but she gathered all the will she could muster and pushed the basket aside to enter her home. She had already said no repeatedly and would not be taking bribes.
By Lily Séjor3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.