The Publishing Industry’s Costume Party: A Cautionary Tale in Three Acts
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Let’s talk about publishing. Or more specifically, the masquerade ball it has become from my own personal experiences.
As a self-published author with four books out in the world (and a fifth one sharpening its claws), I’ve danced with a few “publishers” promising to waltz me into the big leagues. What I got instead were two rounds of smoke, mirrors, and price tags disguised as “partnerships.” Spoiler: when the only thing being invested is your money, it’s not a partnership — it’s a transaction with a fancy feathered mask.
Act I: The Great Hybrid Illusion
The publishing world likes to throw around the term “hybrid” like it’s the ethical middle child between “starving artist” and “six-figure book deal.” And sure, in theory, a hybrid model makes sense: we both invest in the book — you with your wallet and words, them with their printing presses and publicists — and we split the glory. Think of it as a book startup, with you as the founder and them as the VC who actually shows up. I would welcome this kind of deal.
But what I’ve experienced isn't a hybrid. It’s “you pay us between $5-10k upfront, and we’ll give you... editing we control, vague marketing promises, and exactly 35% off your own books if you’d like to buy some back.” Oh, and royalties? Based on net sales, with no definition of what “net” actually means. Translation: you get a mystery slice of a mystery pie you paid for and baked yourself.
And the best part? They get to decide how your brand gets presented — including censoring your title like it’s a Victorian scandal clutching its pearls. I didn’t write The Shitty Leadership Series so it could be watered down into The S**ty Leadership Series. That’s not bold. That’s beige. If you’re too scared to print the word, you’re not ready to publish the work.
One publisher even told me I wouldn’t get into bookstores because of the profanity in the title. Cute. Meanwhile, books like The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fck* and Unfck Yourself* are lounging on bestseller shelves like they own the place. And for the record, I LOVE these books and if you haven't read them, you SHOULD.
So here’s my official response to that kind of logic: Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining.
I feel better now. And a lot more honest.
Act II: The Traditional Dream
In the good old days (or so we’re told), you wrote a brilliant manuscript, sent it off to a publisher, and they paid you an advance. Then they took care of editing, printing, marketing, and distribution while you focused on, I don’t know, writing the next brilliant thing. That’s traditional publishing.
It still exists — if you have a literary agent, a viral following, or the keys to Oprah’s house. For the rest of us? It’s a gate-kept castle wrapped in query letters and polite rejection emails. I get it, and I’m aware of my place in the publishing pecking order because I choose to live in my reality. Now you see why a true hybrid deal is cool.
Act III: Vanity Dressed as Value
Then there’s vanity publishing — where the only thing they really value is your credit card. They tell you it's a hybrid. They send you a contract with clauses about “creative collaboration” and “marketing support,” but when you dig in, the actual deliverables are things like “book teaser” and “author web page.” You know, stuff your cousin with a Canva account could’ve made.
Marketing plans? Unspecified.
Timelines? Optional.
Transparency? Hazy at best.
They are very clear that you can take 10 months to pay their fee - and the work will begin with the first payment, however, nothing will be published until all fees are paid.
It's not a business partnership. It's a service you pay for, then get told how lucky you are to be “chosen.”
What I’m Actually Looking For (in case a real publisher is reading)
I’m not against shared investment. I’m not allergic to risk. I don’t expect red carpet launches or champagne-soaked bookstore tours. But I do expect clarity, accountability, and a bit of creative courage.
If a publisher wants to dance, I’m in. But let’s dance without the masks.
Here’s what I’m after:
A hybrid model where I put some skin in the game and so do you.
A transparent, accountable marketing and distribution plan (not a mystery box of “we’ll promote it... somehow”).
Royalties based on gross or retail sales — not whatever’s left after your latte run and overhead costs.
Respect for the brand I’ve built, foul language and all.
If that’s you — let’s talk. If it’s not — enjoy the masquerade.