Propay: the Internet's Chastity Belt

I cannot recall a recent time when I have been so angry.

As you probably know, I started doing the speculative-fiction convention circuit about six years ago, upon the sale of my first novel. After a few years, I saw how silly it was for each of the authors to get a separate table in the dealer's room just to hawk our own books. It was a waste of space in the convention hall, a waste of time and money for us - you have to sell a metric ton of books to be able to make your costs back when you're solo on a table, and there's no one to back you up when you need a break from shilling your wares.

So I started sharing tables, first with a couple of my close friends who also were doing the circuit, and then bringing in other authors we met at conventions. Soon I began carrying their stock with me on tour, in the hopes that I could drum up a few extra sales for them at shows they couldn't attend. They were horror, science fiction, fantasy… and the occasional paranormal romance. You know, the genre that's burning up the top-ten lists?

Eventually it became an actual business, with commissions reinvested in the next show, the next table. My goal has always been just to keep it self-sustaining, and at that it's been… close. I established a web store so we could supplement our income selling our books to people who might not be able to catch up with us at conventions.

The idea was for small press authors to help each other, to stay alive in an economy where no one is buying books, to keep our work available in a publishing climate where bookstores are failing, chains are refusing small press and signings are harder to schedule.

Almost none of our titles are self-published. They are nearly all from traditional small press, with some published by New York conglomerates. Most are horror, science fiction or fantasy - the sort of books you'll find on the convention circuit.

They are NOT pornography.

And yet, that is what Propay is calling us.

After approximately one zillion requests from readers at conventions and online alike, I decided to look for a way to accept credit cards without having to use Paypal. I researched every service I could find.

Two friends from the convention circuit recommended Propay. Based in Utah, it had been around for five years and specialized in small businesses like mine. Its rates were reasonable and charges were simple to run and transfer. Both of these friends work like I do: they do trade shows or conventions, and supplement with online sales via a self-maintained web store.

I was careful, of course. I purchased an SSL certificate for the site via our hosting service. I checked all the caveats. Then I signed up for Propay. They took my money and gave me an account. "Welcome to Propay!" I announced to our fans via Twitter, Facebook and the mailing list that we were now taking credit cards. Huzzah! I even got my first credit-card order.

A day later, I was informed that due to the "high-risk" nature of my business, my account was being cancelled. They would refund my fee.

I was flabbergasted. What had I done wrong? I got the SSL certificate, which they didn't say I needed but which my separate reading said was a good idea. I sell books. How is that any more "high-risk" than selling yarn or corsets or perfume? What is it their concern if I go out of business?

I checked their list of banned businesses. It seems the "high-risk" part comes from their risk that I'm a scammer. No, I'm not a bail bondsman, a pharmacist (?) or running a pyramid scheme. I'm not doing anything illegal of which I'm aware and while I can't understand why they won't take on software or live-animal vendors, I still don't fit those categories.

Books are not listed as a high-risk category.

I called their customer service line and was put into the voicemail of "Spencer," in their risk department. I waited a day, and then I called Spencer back. He politely told me that he was the one who had personally reviewed my business and flagged it as an unacceptable use. As a pornographic merchant.

I really couldn't believe it. I laughed and said, "We do carry some romance novels, but they're not pornography. They're available at Borders, for heaven's sake."

Spencer told me he would have the rest of the risk assessment team re-evaluate it and get back to me by the end of the day.

I went to look at our site. What could have made them think I was hawking porn? We don't have pop-up ads with scantily-clad women waggling themselves at us - hell, we don't have ads at all. Our featured author this week is Angelia Sparrow, who does write mostly romance novels. Two of her book covers have shirtless men on them.

One has a cartoon couple sitting on a park bench together. Horrors!

I honestly felt they would take a closer look, realize we're not a porn merchant, and authorize my account. I mean, the list is ridiculous. Am I selling mail-order brides? A sexually-based dating service? A topless bar? Of course not. Homosexual content does not pornography make, not even for the Supreme Court.

Later, I got an email from Spencer: "We have reviewed your business again and still find it unsupportable through Propay. We are sorry for the inconvenience and hope you will find another merchant provider that can meet your needs."

Now I'm angry.

I guess I should have applied last week - Steven Shrewsbury was our author spotlight, and his covers have a snarling hell-beast and a swirling red darkness from which a demon will emerge. Perhaps that would have met with Propay's approval. Good thing they didn't see Sara Harvey's "Convent of the Pure"! That cover has a woman in a corset, holding a crossbow! The ghost of her dead lover dances behind her!

Dear Propay: If I were really selling porn, we'd be making a hell of a lot more money.

It is hard enough to be taken seriously as authors of speculative fiction that *gasp* occasionally includes sex in the Age of Sparkly Vampires. We don't carry smut for smut's sake. I carry work that has actual plot, stories and characters and intelligence in a fantastic setting. Books that could be characterized as paranormal romance or even erotica are maybe 13 out of more than 60 titles we carry, about half of which are on the web store.

I'm disappointed beyond words. Propay had an excellent structure, perfect for our needs. It was one $35 annual fee with a percentage taken from each purchase. By contrast, other services were horrifyingly overpriced for a tiny business like mine. Paying $35 a year is reasonable cost of doing business; $30 a month is not, unless our business picks way, way up.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't briefly consider taking down our romance section just for the day. Just to get the account going, get by the blue-noses at Propay. Once we were an established customer, they couldn't then go back and cancel our account. Hold off for a couple of days, then put the romance novels back up.

But that would mean validating their stupid morality play, and I refuse to censor my people to satisfy some bureaucrat in Utah. My authors do not write pornography. They write books of worlds far away and nearby, of the darkest desires of the human heart as well as the scariest creatures the imagination can brew in the shadows. My authors write fantastic books, and it's a pity that more bookstores don't carry them, that for many of them, Amazon and the Literary Underworld are the only places they can sell their stuff.

If Propay doesn't want our business as it is, it's their loss.

But more than taking my business elsewhere, I want to let my fellow entrepreneurs know that apparently Propay considers two men sitting beside each other on a park bench to be pornography. That they refuse to help my customers use credit cards because I might steal their money, because as a "smut peddler" I am clearly untrustworthy.

I am a writer, and yet I don't have words strong enough for this. Hell, maybe we should pick up some porn. It'll help pay the extra cost for processing those credit cards.