I’ve been seeing a lot of new authors worrying about the prospect of going indie, or self-publishing. (A terminology note: “indie” used to mean “not part of the Big Five conglomerates.” Now it’s rapidly becoming identical to being a self-pubber.) I keep telling authors who go for SF&F that they should be prepared to self-publish; and part of that preparation is to understand the cost of everything that a publisher would provide.
Publishers pay the author; they do not charge the author for anything. They do not recoup publication costs from your royalties; if you see that in a contract, that is a vanity press. Vanity presses are useless, because it’s cheaper for you to just self-publish, and you retain full control over your work to boot. In the traditional publishing model, you give up some control in exchange for the publisher providing you with an editor, a cover, distribution, and branding. You have to provide all of that if you self-publish.
(No, that doesn’t include marketing. Publishing has never included marketing per se; they’ve marketed their own product, but unless you’re a pretty big seller they don’t make special effort to separate you from the rest of their line-up. You’re selling your book; they’re selling their catalog. So don’t bother with people who say “Oh, these days, publishers require you to market your own book.” That’s always been the case.)
Self-publishing, therefore, means you have higher costs. You have to find an artist, rather than have someone who is used for multiple titles. You have to pay an editor. You have to pay higher costs per book for printing than a big press might just because of the decreased volume; bulk discounts matter.
On the other hand, you also aren’t paying for overhead; so while you have a higher up-front cost, over time those costs get paid off and you can continue with paying just yourself. If you go with a press, you’ll be absurdly lucky to get 20% in royalties; self-publication regularly nets you 50%.
That doesn’t mean that indie is going to get you more. It just means that of the pie in front of you, that’s what you might expect to get. A press can provide a bigger pie for that 10-20% through higher brand visibility and better distribution deals, as well as volume discounts on printing. A smaller percentage of a bigger pie can still result in a bigger payoff.
So why do I advise SF&F authors to go for self-publication, or at least consider it likely? Wouldn’t it be better to shoot for that bigger market?
Well, the answer’s a bit complex, so I’ll try to summarize. Sales of SF&F have been declining, but they’re declining mostly on the big-publisher side. The indie market, by contrast, is exploding. With few slots available (perhaps forty new titles a year per major publisher), a lot of people get left out, and those books are chosen in order to appeal to the widest market possible. That’s not a bad thing, but it does mean that niche markets are, by necessity, ignored. Not everyone can be a Jim Butcher or a Larry Correia or a Mercedes Lackey. And those audiences that really want to see those niche genres might be searching hard for something good.
For example, I love a good SF&F mystery. They’re really hard to pull off, because you have to establish the rules and explain why you can’t just use magic or super-tech to instantly solve the case, all while making the obstacles seem both non-arbitrary and non-trivial. That sort of story is hard to find, and really good ones are even rarer. And that is, in large part, because there just isn’t a big enough market out there for a book that takes that much careful planning; the mystery lovers and SF&F fans can easily cross genres, but few of them bother with the genre-benders. Meanwhile, I get delighted with anything that promises to be like Lord Darcy, even to the point of going for admittedly sub-standard fare.
But with indies, you can pull out those more unusual stories, the ones that might not make it into the big publishers’ lists, and get your big slice of a small pie. It might take some extra work, but there is no advertising stronger than one friend saying to another “Read this, you’ll thank me later.”
And it’s entirely possible that you can get together with other authors who write something similar, and work together on cross-promotion. After all, they might be in the same business, but they’re not actually competitors. Not in the way you might find with other industries. You might even join with other indies in an author co-op, sharing a brand to increase your visibility; a bit tricky, but with excellent rewards if you work at it together.
But there’s also another reason to look at niche markets, and it ties back into how sales are declining among big publishers. There are many factors there, but a good chunk of it is that the macro picture is great and all; but it’s not to be taken without a look at the micro. That is, big-picture data means you lose sight of what makes something personal. What drives someone to buy a particular product?
I give the same advice on complexity for writing as I do for parenting: whether it’s an adult reader or a carefree child playing in the yard, your audience might be smarter than you give them credit for. Kids might not understand innuendo, for example (which is precisely why adults use it), but they can tell that there’s something going on; and if you try to explain complicated topics to them, they can usually grasp it if you phrase it in context of their own experience. And if your adult audience wants to be lead around by the nose, they’ll watch a reality show.
A lot of big publishers, at least of late, have been trying to respond to the pressures of instant-gratification by going for material that satisfies standards independent of the quality of the story. No matter which side of the Hugo debate you’re on, for example, you prefer a good story to one that merely checkboxes its way through a plot. (The Hugo debate is about books that depend on acceptance of those checked boxes, but I’ve covered this before.)
That means that, if an indie author can get an editor and cover approximately equal in quality to what a publisher can provide, your unusual book has a chance to stand up to that publisher’s fare on equal measure. Maybe your audience won’t actually like your avante-garde masterpiece; but you have the choice to publish it. The large presses will always err on the side of caution, trying to follow the wind rather than check for new paths.
And even though your physical books are going to be more expensive than something from Baen or Macmillan, your ebooks are going to be cheaper. If you’re publishing SF&F, then you’re also talking about an audience that’s not only very comfortable with tech solutions, but also typically plugged into a word-of-mouth network that gives disproportionate exposure to sub-genres compared to other kinds of books.
For another example of the same concept, listen to someone explain why listening to big trends nearly drove Lego out of business.
(EDIT: Interestingly enough, Sara Hoyt put up her own tale today of how she discovered that indie publishing pays more and gives greater creative freedom, and why.)
So yeah, indie publishing almost certainly means small pies; but with the way the market is expanding to allow for unusual story combinations while remaining competitive in quality to large presses, you’re talking about a lot of pies.
I’ve found that I enjoy a good sci-fi mystery too. Been really enjoying Jack McDevitt’s “Alex Benedict” series as a result. They’re in the far future, on a different planet, and there’s star travel involved — but they’re mysteries, written from the point of view of an antiquities’ dealer’s assistant, of all things…. And they work. I love them.
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I’ll have to check them out.
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The 1st in the series is called “A Talent for War.”
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Publishers may not itemize the bill for the costs of editing, cover art, book design, and so on, but they do recoup those costs. The royalty schedules are structured so that the author is the last person to make any money on a book.
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Then it is a vanity press.
Royalties are a percentage of either gross or net. Net-based royalties are the common form (that is, a percentage of money after base costs), and authors are often at a disadvantage here. Always make sure your contract defines “net.” As it is an ongoing percentage flow, it should be the gross minus the cost of the production of the book, not the publisher’s overhead nor the startup cost of the book itself.
Authors are often given advances, which is essentially a loan against future royalties. A successful book, in terms of sales, is one that has earned back the advance (that is, the royalty stream has accumulated to the point of the total advance at minimum). Because of booksellers deciding to return copies that aren’t being moved, a publisher calculates proceeds only a few times per year (commonly twice per year). It is at that point that royalties are paid out.
So yes, taken literally, the author is the last to get paid; but that’s only because the publisher collects the money to pay the author in the first place. However, if any publisher, any publisher at all, is deducting the cost of production and startup from your royalties, then you’ve got a vanity press.
Here’s an example that floated across my desk recently, which prompted the publisher (GenZ) to be placed on my shit list: “Publisher will pay on behalf of the Author for the editing, copyrighting, proofreading, formatting, cover design, marketing, printing, publishing fees, and all aspects of creating the said work/manuscript. The fee is capped at $2,500 (Two thousand five hundred dollars). This fee is recouped by the Publisher from the Author’s royalties in paragraph 2.”
At that point, why are you sharing any profits with a second party? Vanity presses offer nothing over self-publishing beyond a catalog, and the loss in profitability is not worth that slim advantage.
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You’re missing my point. A publisher gets all of the money that a customer pays for a book. Of that money, they (eventually) pay a small percentage to the author. The rest of that money goes to the publisher, which is used to pay the editors, cover artists, and so on. If anything is left after that, it’s profit.
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How does that contradict anything I’ve said? You just summed up business contracts.
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Well, what it means is that publishers do, in fact, recoup their publication costs from your royalties, all of them, not just vanity presses. They don’t share the figures with the author, but the author is still paying for the cost of producing the book and the publisher’s overhead from her or his royalties. Which is why most publishers pay a very small percentage of the sales to the author as royalties, as opposed to the 70% that Amazon pays.
That’s assuming that a book actually earns back its advance.
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You’re confusing royalties and net.
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Net is what a publisher makes from selling books. Royalties are what that publisher pays to the author. Net minus royalties are what the publisher keeps. In traditional publishing, the publisher keeps most of it.
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Very good. However, that statement is contradictory with what you claimed above. Royalties are independent of what the publisher uses to pay for the production of the book. If they claim otherwise, they are a vanity press.
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Royalties are determined by how much a publisher can afford, which is determined by how much it costs to produce a book. The publisher has to recoup the costs of producing the book from the sales.
I do see your point about vanity presses and I do agree with it, but I think that the way you phrased it was ambiguous.
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Not ambiguous at all. You’re just not following it. Royalties are independent of publication costs, and are the result of negotiations between the owner (author) and distributor (publisher). There is no difference here between this and, say, a patent owner.
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Hi, Matthew, it’s me again.
I want to write fiction and I’ve been looking for publishing advice. This was helpful, but I have a question. Larry Correia has writing and publishing advice on his website too, and he didn’t recommend self-publishing because it requires you to be “one self-promoting son of a gun” (a talent I’m not sure I have), and because there’s a stigma that indy books are often junk. I already see that you think self-publishing is worth the general risks you mentioned, but what do you think of these particular caveats?
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Self-publishing is a lot of work and no guarantee of success. However, just being accepted by a publisher is no guarantee of quality, either.
Larry speaks from experience. MHI was originally a self-published novel. His level of success is one in more millions than I care to imagine. One thing to keep in mind, though, is that he self-published years ago. The field has changed so much in that time that it’s a completely different game now.
I can speak from experience there as well. I looked down on self-publishing in the same period. Such novels were poorly written, often unedited, and not well constructed to boot. If I saw the Create Space brand, I assumed it was crap.
This is no longer the case. For example, Sarah Hoyt — who is writing Monster Hunter Guardian with Larry — makes more right now with self-publishing than with Baen. This will likely change, of course; the name recognition from a Monster Hunter novel is so huge that even John Ringo (who currently can’t write anything that isn’t a bestseller) was floored. That will result in more sales across the board. But right now, until Guardian is out, it’s better for her to self-publish.
My advice is fairly standard. Try a publishing house first. However, there are so few out there that are worth it compared to going it alone that you should plan on doing just that. Take the time now to refine your craft, and try to get advice from the acquisitions editor if you are rejected (most don’t give feedback, which I don’t like, but you might get lucky). Do research on self-promotion. Even if you’re accepted by a giant house, those techniques can still help you.
And above all, don’t get discouraged. Being rejected does not mean that you don’t have something good. It merely means that they decided to go with another book.
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Thank you, Matthew. This really helped.
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