Let’s be honest, self-publishing is the last resort for writers who can’t get a publisher. Isn’t it?
For any writer, the idea of getting a deal with one of the major publishing houses is the stuff of dreams. You sign your name on the dotted line and then sit back waiting for a life of riches and literary fame. And it can happen… think of Sally Rooney (Normal People) or Jessie Burton (The Miniaturist) or Sarah Perry (The Essex Serpent). These are the new A-listers of the literary world, the elite; and the system works – for them as authors, for their agents, the publishers, the booksellers and, ultimately, their readers.
But by definition, the elite are few and far between. Ten years ago, I signed a contract with a major UK publisher. It started off well and I enjoyed what was, looking back on it, a honeymoon period. It didn’t last long. After all, as a B (or C) lister, I rapidly slid down the priority list. Within a couple of years, I was left with a number of titles the publisher was no longer willing to promote. I could do it myself, they suggested, but I thought why put in all that effort when the publisher was taking 75 per cent of my earnings. And that’s after the bookseller has taken its cut. It didn’t leave me with much.
Maybe, I thought, the answer was to self-publish.
Self-publishing