Amazon Limiting Daily Number of New Titles Uploaded to Their KDP Platform

And I, for one, think it needs to be restricted even more.

Earlier this week, Amazon announced it will be lowering the volume limits on new title creations being uploaded to KDP. The limit? Three new title creations per day. This comes after generative AI novels and short stories have been seen flooding the Amazon platform and pushing human-created books off of the top 100 bestsellers lists.

For the most part, authors are thrilled. However, there are those choice few who have been outspoken about the new limits, citing those prolific writers who routinely upload numerous content files every week.

I’m about to be that person. If this new limit affects you in any way, you are part of the problem. Now that I have no doubt peeved some folks off, let’s dive into this.

Personally, I feel there should be a limit in place of one “new” title each month. Let’s face it, if you are one of those who are pushing out content this fast, or faster, chances are slim to none that it is worth reading. But in these new self-publishing times, quantity over quality seems to be the norm. Yes, I understand some writers will try to release entire series at one time, or within a few days of each other. Again, if I have to explain to you why this is an economic disaster for this industry, please leave it. Because, again, if this is how you operate as an author, you are part of the problem.

Finally, it looks like Amazon is trying to stem the avalanche of subpar material that has been hitting their proverbial shelves since the inception of KDP and ebooks. As I’ve said many times before, we need gatekeepers in the form of quality control. This is the first step I’ve seen Amazon take toward trying to obtain that since my self-publishing journey started back in 2003.

The whole GenAI craze is just the newest incarnation of the ghost-written crap that started up around 2015/2016. As with any half-assed venture, GenAI and authors who churn new content to flood the market every few days are making matters worse. They are literally cutting off their own noses to spite their face. And if your attitude is ‘Well, so long as I am making money, then I don’t care!’ then again, YOU are part of the problem. I’m not going to sit here and explain common economics to you. Heave knows I have harped on this for the past 8 years and made numerous posts about it. The problem is no one wants to listen. And with GenAI now taking Amazon by storm, my predictions of this industry collapsing in on itself are quickly coming to pass.

As I’ve said before – I hate to say I told you so, but, well, here we are.

Creating Effective Ads

Creating effective ads for social media and Amazon isn’t exactly rocket science. Sure, the marketing specialists and courses all want authors to believe there is this super “secret sauce” to getting these types of things to work for you. Honestly, it really isn’t that hard. The problem isn’t knowing how to do it, but actually getting it to work. And that is something that no amount of courses and training can adequately teach. But if you’re wondering how to create them and don’t want to float a loan to figure it out, or scour the internet trying to find something useful, then sit back and relax. The Ink Well has got you covered. Check out this free download that breaks down how to create effective ads. And if you like this, be sure to join us over at the Authors Help Desk on Facebook where our group of experts share this and other information on the publishing industry, all for free.

Abbadon – a Short Story

The night was black as pitch, the only light coming from the full moon hanging low in the sky. Malya drew her cloak tightly around her as she approached the ring of ancient standing stones on the windswept moor. This was the night. Tonight, during the Witching Hour, she would open the portal and contact the demon realm.

She could feel the power thrumming in her blood, the magic of her ancestors passed down through generations beyond count. They had said it would be the thirteenth witch, but the thirteenth had been named Amelia. And she had been nearly mute, a waste of a life, unable to comprehend the power she held in her hand. It had driven her mad. Had it not been for the actions of her own family, their legacy may very well have ended with her. But it had not. And now it would be Malya who claimed her destiny.

Carefully, she withdrew the ancient tome from the folds of her cloak, its pages crackling with arcane energy. She found the page with the inscription and chanted, her voice rising and falling rhythmically. She called upon her ancestors, and upon the elements, and upon the ancient deities. Come forth! Do my bidding!

The air grew heavy with ozone, the hair on her arms standing on end. The wind picked up, howling angrily through the stones. Malya continued chanting. She shouted the words against the gale. A glow appeared within the center of the stones, faint at first but steadily brightening. The stench of sulfur filled the air.

She was close now. With a final shout, she pronounced the demon’s true name as she drew the ceremonial dagger across her palm, letting the blood flow heavy and rich onto the blessed ground. The glow flashed blindingly, and a rift tore open the fabric of reality. On the other side, swirling shadows moved and twisted, demonic whispers echoing from the void.

Malya’s heart pounded in exhilaration and fear. “I call upon the dark powers!” she cried. “Grant me the knowledge of the ancients! I call upon Abbadon! Come forth now!”

A form coalesced from the shadows, a horned humanoid figure wreathed in black smoke. It fixed her with eyes of swirling darkness, black as the night around her, the golden flecks reflected in the faint glow of the full moon. When it spoke, its voice was as rich and soft as velvet, melodious and deep.

“You who have disturbed our slumber. State your desire that I may grant it, for a price.”

Malya lifted her chin. “I wish to learn the forbidden magics.”

His full lips lifted at the corners. “Is that all? Such a small request. Not worthy of my time.”

She returned his smile. “I wish for you to love me.”

“Ah, and so we get to the true nature of your commands, what hides in the darkest parts of your heart. So tell me, little one. What would you grant me in return for this type of devotion?”

She took a step forward, her smile widening as she held out her hand. “For this, I offer my soul in return. And my eternal love.”

The demon’s mouth opened wide as he chuckled. “So shall it be done.”

The rift exploded in a searing light, and Malya laughed.

Trapped – a LitRPG Short


As Brea opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the eerie silence that surrounded her. Nothing but the sound of her own breathing and beating heart. As she tried to sit up, the roar inside her own ears grew louder with the exertion. Her body felt heavy, like she was weighed down by an invisible force.

She managed to get her body to obey, her blue eyes surveying her surroundings. She was inside a dimly lit cave, the jagged rocks glowing softly. The air was thick with the musty, damp smell of earth.

She tried not to groan as she moved. She glanced down at her hands, letting out a small gasp. They were different, distorted, as if she were wearing gloves made of shimmering pixels. She plucked at her fingers, trying to remove the glistening covering, but she only grasped her own plastic-like flesh.

Where was she? She thought back, trying to remember where she had been right before she woke up. The last thing she remembered was being in her room, logging into her brand new virtual reality video game that had become all the rage. Then – nothing.

She stood up, wobbling a bit on unsteady legs. She surveyed the small cavern around her. Everything looked pixelized, distorted, and shimmering. That’s when it hit her. Was she – inside her new video game? Her heart flipped over inside her chest at the thought. Surely not. It had to be a joke, or a dream.

But there was no denying what her eyes saw clearly around her. She had somehow been transported into her game. But the question remained – how did she escape?

Her head moved, causing the scenery around her to flail around like a camera that had been knocked asunder. She stopped, placing her feet wide apart to stop the upheaval of her own stomach. She moved more slowly, the scenes righting themselves. The cave was empty except for a narrow tunnel that lead deeper into the earth. She knew she had to explore, had to find a way out.

She took a step forward, then another, and another, until she could walk without the world tilting wildly on its axis. The darkness seemed to press in on her, suffocating her with its weight. She stumbled and fell, scraping her pixelated hands on the rough stone floor. And then she heard it: a faint whisper, coming from the depths of the tunnel.

She followed the sound, her heart racing with fear and anticipation. The tunnel widened into a large chamber, lit by flickering torches on the walls. And there, in the center of the room, stood a figure of a woman. She was tall and slender, dressed in a flowing gown of crimson colored velvet. Her hair was black as midnight, her face white as snow and beautiful to behold. But her eyes gleamed with a wickedness that chilled Brea to the bone.

“Welcome, my dear,” the woman said, her voice smooth as silk. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Brea took a step back, her mind racing with questions. Who was this woman? Was she a player, like her, trapped in this imaginary world. Or was something else entirely?

“I see you’re confused,” the woman said, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Allow me to explain. My name is Lilith. I am the ruler of this realm, and you are my newest plaything.”

Her words caused Brea to falter. She swallowed the fear that caught in her throat. Lilith’s words were cold, calculated, and filled with a sense of power that made her feel small and insignificant.

“What do you mean, plaything?” Brea asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“Oh, don’t be so naïve,” Lilith replied, her eyes flashing with amusement. “You are here to entertain me. To play my games. And if you’re lucky, to survive them.” She tilted her head, regarding Brea. “But I must warn you. No one has ever played my games – and lived to tell the tale.”

Brea took a step back, her eyes searching for a way out. She wasn’t ready for this. But the chamber was sealed, and Lilith was blocking the only exit.

“What kind of games?” she asked after a moment, her voice trembling.

“All kinds,” Lilith replied, her smile widening. “Mazes, puzzles, battles, riddles. I have a whole world of challenges waiting for you.”

She shook her head violently as a sense of dread wash over her. She had to get out, had to find a way to escape this twisted game. “What if I don’t want to?” she asked in a whisper.

Lilith only smiled. “You’re wondering how to escape, aren’t you?” she asked in a voice low and laced with danger. “Well, my dear, the answer is simple. You have to win. And in order to win, you have to play the games.”

Brea’s heart thudded heavily inside her chest. But she felt a flicker of hope. If she could win the games, she could escape. She eyed Lilith. Somehow, she knew even if she refused, she would still be forced to play. She might as well get it over with. Finally, she nodded.

The woman’s smile grew wider. “Here’s your first challenge,” Lilith said, snapping her fingers. The walls of the chamber dissolved, replaced by a vast, dark forest. “Find your way out of this maze, and I’ll let you live to see another day – and another game.”

A second later, the dark cavern, along with Lilith, disappeared. Brea discovered herself standing in the forest, trying to get her bearings. The forest was dense, the trees towering high above her in every direction. She could hear the rustling of leaves, the cawing of birds, and the distant howling of wolves.

She took a deep breath and started walking, her pixelated feet sinking into the soft moss-covered earth. The maze was a blur of twisting paths and dead ends, and she soon lost track of where she was going. She tried to backtrack, but every path seemed to lead her deeper into the forest.

Hours passed as she wandered around the forest, time blending into itself until she thought she would pass out from exhaustion. Just when she thought she would surely go crazy from the never-ending sea of trees, she stumbled upon a stream. She fell to her knees, drinking her fill and resting upon the rocks of its bank. After a while, she felt more refreshed, more determined to finish this game.

A noise came to her ears, and she sat up to look into the trees across from the stream. Within the darkness glowed a half-dozen red eyes. As they grew closer, their owners emerged from the trees. She froze, her heart racing as she pack of wolves came into view.

She ran, her heart pounding, trying to find a way out of the forest. Her mind kept telling her it was futile; the wolves were faster. But she kept going, urging herself on. All too soon, they caught up to her. She fought them off as best she could, her pixelated hands turning into claws, but there were too many of them. She gauged at sides and punched snarling muzzles. For every wolf that failed, two more spawned in its place. Before long, she was completely surrounded.

Just when she thought she was done for, she saw a glimmer of light in the distance. Breathing labored, she ran towards it, her feet pounding against the ground. Seconds flew by along with the trees. Then, she burst through the trees.

She found herself on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast, sprawling city. The sky was blood-red, and the buildings were twisted and distorted, as if made of bones and flesh. She could see misshapen figures in the streets, their feet shuffling slowly. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

A sense of unease wash over her. This was not a place she wanted to be. But she knew she had no choice. She had to keep playing Lilith’s game, had to find a way to escape. She took a deep breath and ran toward the city.

As she came to the outskirts, she noticed the people she had seen in the streets were quite different from what she had witnessed from the cliff. They were dressed in rags, their faces twisted into grotesque masks. They didn’t seem to take notice of her presence. She swallowed down the fear that clutched at her heart.

She walked through the twisted streets, trying to find a way out. But every road seemed to lead her deeper into the city, deeper into the heart of darkness. She walked like this for hours, the sky only growing into a deeper shade of crimson as a light mist of fog clung to the ground.

Finally, she came upon a tall, dark castle, looming high above her. It’s black stone dripped with droplets of water, the iron barred windows looking forlorn where they stared blankly at the dirty city landscape.

The sense of dread intensified. This is where Lilith waited for her. She was sure of it. This hellscape is where the final game would take place.

She had to continue. If she didn’t, she would be trapped her for the rest of her life, possibly longer. She took a steady breath as she walked up to the castle gates, pushing them open. They groaned and creaked angrily on their rusty hinges, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. She walked on, her footfalls echoing off the walls, sounding hollow and far too loud in the otherwise eerie silence.

At the end of the corridor was a staircase. Her heart raced with anticipation as she climbed the slick steps. She climbed up one flight, then two, then three, then four. And then, at the very top, she saw her: Lilith, standing at the end of the hall, her eyes gleaming with a dim light.

“Congratulations,” Lilith said, her voice smooth as silk. “You’ve made it this far. But the final game is the most dangerous of all.”

Brea nodded, feeling her chest tighten with fear and dread. What did Lilith have in store for her this time?

“Here’s your challenge,” Lilith said, snapping her fingers. The castle walls dissolved, replaced by a vast, swirling vortex. “Escape from this dimension, and you’ll be free.”

The wind around her picked up, forcing her to raise her arm in a vain attempt to ward off the torrent. She tried to see into the vortex, but it was nothing but a blur of intermingling colors and shapes. She felt dizzy and sick just looking at it. Seeing no other options, she took a deep breath and stepped forward into the mass, her body dissolving into pixels. She could feel herself being pulled forward, her body disintegrating at a molecular level with every passing second. She opened her mouth, tried to scream, to fight against the darkness that rushed up to claim her, but it was hopeless as the blackness consumed her …

She opened her eyes with a start, her heart hammering heavily inside her chest. She looked around, but there was nothing but the smooth, white walls of her room. She was still sitting at her desk, the computer screen dark.

The game was over, and she had won.


When AI Ruled (Ruined) the World

I’m about to piss off some people. And if you happen to get mad about this post, chances are you are part of the problem.

I keep seeing so many authors going off about AI tools – AI art creation tools, AI writing tools, etc. First off, I’m not here to debate the whole “it stole IP” angle. Nor am I about to sit here and debate the ethics behind the use of AI. And I’m certainly not going to sit here and try to explain how these programs work to those who insist upon turning a blind eye to how these programs compare to how human artists create. Those are all completely separate topics.

My problem comes with the moral outrage over the use of these tools in a professional setting. The consensus is everyone is all up in arms about the ethics of using AI tools by “creators” who are looking for a quick, cheap way around producing cover art, and potentially “writing” short stories and full novels by using the AI tools available.

“It’s going to ruin real creators’ careers!” – “It’s going to replace creatives!” – “It’s going to unleash an avalanche of AI generated books with AI generated covers!” – “It’s going to drive down prices so creators can’t make any money!”

Where was this moral outrage 5 plus years ago when the industry got hit by a tsunami of unedited shit rough drafts masquerading as books, pushed by “experts” who taught the Minimum Viable Product model where the MO was to publish as many books as fast as you could with as little editing as possible, thus turning this entire industry into a get-rich-quick scheme, selling them at rock-bottom prices, stuffing the Kindle files with dozens of books and then enrolling them into KU so they would receive $20 or more per read, and crashing the market so spectacularly that it forced regular authors to either price their books at a few measly pennies, or quit altogether? Why did no one call out any of these bad players when they were busy decimating the publishing industry by flooding the market with subpar material that should have remained in the bowels of sites like WattPad and Inkitt? Why was no one riding their moral high-horse when authors were giving away thousands of books every single day and creating this whole “free entertainment” mindset among readers who now believe books are disposable recreational material? Where was all the concern when authors and “experts” were actively instructing authors to use bad business practices to increase their sales?

Everyone is so worried that AI is going to take the place of “real” cover designers. They’re concerned AI will allow a wave of AI-produced books to hit the market and thus “drive out real authors.” Yet no one gave a rat’s ass when the wave of ghost written crap hit KDP to the tune of over 100K+ new titles every month. I didn’t see the first author, or anyone who even remotely considered themselves an author, say the first word about how bad these “books” were for the industry. Publish fast and hard, publish to KU even though it was designed to rip off indie authors. Learn to use AMS ads and drive up the bid price until the only ones who can afford it are the ones with a huge marketing budget to burn. Churn out content every week, give it away, put it into KU, and offer incentives for readers to download those free books. Do whatever it takes to make sure your books get seen, get downloaded, and run over anyone who gets in the way.

Yet, not a single word from any of the morally outraged over AI when all this was going down circa 2018/2019. I see artists and authors and photographers and graphic artists throwing an absolute fit over AI artwork which is now crashing the market for those creatives who are reportedly losing 60%+ of profits. Now that it is at THEIR doorstep, affecting THEIR bottom line, suddenly all this unethical crap is bad and should be called out and let’s bash any author who dares to use something that might give them a leg up on the competition like, say, using a ghost writer to churn out a dozen books a year and saturate the market to the point where real authors were losing 90% of THEIR profits. But hey, that didn’t effect your precious photographers and wanna be authors or other creators, so they didn’t give two shits about all the authors being ran out of business among the throng of never-ending stream of shitty ghostwritten romance novels flooding the market.

So long as you’re making money, who cares, right? So long as you’re able to turn a profit, who cares how bad you are fucking up the industry for everyone else. That’s been the mindset of this industry for the better part of six years. Now it’s affecting other industries and other authors on a much larger scale, so people are finally starting to take notice of something I’ve been warning everyone about for literally YEARS

And guess what? At this point, this industry is so far gone, it has no choice but to crash and burn before it gets sorted out. Don’t shoot the messenger. If everyone would have pulled their heads out of their collective asses and said something back in 2015 when I first started telling everyone where all this was headed due to bad and/or unethical business practices, we all might still have a chance at making a decent paycheck off of our books without sacrificing our morals or floating a second mortgage in an attempt to be seen over the sewer stream that this industry has become. I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ – except I told you so.

But hey, you keep making that money as long as you can, and to hell with everyone else. Hope you have a backup plan for paying your bills once the market completely flat lines.