In my third year of a Creative Writing degree, the thing that frightens me the most post-university, is sending out my manuscripts into the world. Not because I’m particularly precious about my writing – I’m really not – but because it feels like relinquishing all form of control over whether my story will be read by others or not.
Our lecturers have drilled into us that the publishing game is often one of luck – and perseverance- and that rejection is to be expected. I remember hearing about Dune, and how Herbert’s manuscript was rejected 20 times, before finally being picked up by a publisher that had previously printed car repair manuals. I have since learned that this story is only partially true, the manuscript was rejected many times, but Chilton Books had already began publishing several Sci-Fi novels before Dune; which is a lot less flashy as a story, but still paints a clear picture: One can work hard on their manuscript, edit it ad nauseam, and still, we must hope that the odds are stacked in our favour, and that our story lands on the desk of someone that is looking exactly for what we are offering.
There are also all sorts of unspoken rules when it comes to the industry. A quick online search and one can find “how to write the perfect email to ensure your manuscript is read” and “how to make sure your manuscript stands out so someone will finally read it” courses – all of them behind a paywall, of course. I have been given a lot of advice from traditionally published authors, send only a few manuscripts at the time, research the publishers and make sure they are a good fit for your novel, etc. There is something fairy-tale-like about the idea that someone will read the first chapter of my novel, see the potential within it, and give my story the chance to reach readers around the world. I wonder if there is room for me around that table of “chosen ones”. And if there is not, what does that say about me as a writer?
But what if, instead of waiting for someone to believe in my story, I decided I believed in it enough to see it through on my own?
In this series, I’ll be looking more closely at the UK self-publishing landscape: the platforms writers are using, the challenges they encounter, and the opportunities that independence can create. I’ll also be speaking to a self-published author about their experience – what worked, what surprised them, and what they wish they’d known before starting. So in the spirit of learning and researching, I wanted to sit down and put pen to paper, and brainstorm what I generally believe the self-publishing experience is like, without ever having partaken in it. Here are my assumptions about it:
- As a self-published author, I would spend more time promoting myself than writing.
Speaking to my aspiring author friends, self-promotion and social media is the part of this type of publishing that scares them the most. Shouldn’t writing be all about writing? (Lee & Low Books, 2023). But then again, writers of colour are less likely to get promotion from their publishers, so perhaps this task was always going to fall on me (Gohil, 2024).
- There is still a stigma around self-publishing.
For a long time, self-publishing carried the reputation of being a “last resort” for books that traditional publishers rejected. While that perception has begun to shift (Rowland, 2014), do some writers still shy away from self-publishing due to fear of perception? But then again, isn’t that how underrepresented communities have often had to carve up a space for themselves? By finding creative ways to reach out to others, to collaborate, and to be heard. So in a way, self-publishing feels like a natural extension of that.
- I would have to become more than just a writer.
Self-publishing seems to require wearing many hats: editor, designer, marketer, publicist and project manager. Instead of handing a manuscript to a publisher and waiting for the process to unfold, the responsibility for every stage of a book’s life sits with the author. This is not to say that similar challenges haven’t recently been found within the traditionally published community, as understaffed publishing houses (Mcllroy and Milliot, 2024) has meant that the quality of edited manuscripts that are considered ready for publication has dropped.
- It might also mean greater creative freedom.
At the same time, that independence can be appealing. A self-published writer retains control over their work: the cover, the format, the release date, even the pricing. One could choose to work with an inclusive team, or hire other BIPOC artists to collaborate with the project. There is something almost radical about the idea that a writer can bring their story directly to readers without waiting for institutional approval.
- The financial side is both a risk and an opportunity.
Self-publishing often means upfront costs – editing, cover design, formatting, marketing – all paid by the author. Yet the royalties can be significantly higher than in traditional publishing. (Kidd, 2023). Retaining control over the copyright of one’s work, particularly in times where AI models are being trained with unprotected intellectual property, also is an incentive in favour of self-publishing (Milmo, 2025). In theory, the rewards are greater, does that mean so is the risk?
Of course, these are only assumptions. Some may prove accurate, others wildly wrong. The reality of self-publishing likely sits somewhere between empowerment and exhaustion, between creative freedom and administrative overwhelm. Like most things in the writing world, it is probably more complicated than either its advocates or its critics suggest. So, this series is not about declaring whether self-publishing is better than traditional publishing, or vice versa. Instead, it is an attempt to understand what the path actually looks like for writers in the UK today. The information online seems to be primarily focused on the US market, and often these online resources aren’t applicable for UK based writers. For many of us standing at the beginning of our writing careers, the question isn’t simply: how do I get published? It’s how many different ways are there to reach readers – and which one might be right for me?
On the next installment of this series, I will be putting my reader hat on. What happens when I only read books self-published by BPOC writers for a week? What patterns will emerge, and are the algorithmic gods on their side? Or will stepping out of the mainstream mean stepping away from the limelight?
References:
Gohil, Neha, “Black British Book festival founder criticises lack of diversity in publishing”, in The Guardian, Oct. 2024. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/oct/02/black-british-book-festival-diversity-publishing-authors (Accessed 10/03/2026).
Lee & Low Books, “The Lee & Low Diversity Baseline Survey 3.0”, Via Lee & Low Books. Available at: https://www.leeandlow.com/about/diversity-baseline-survey/dbs3/ (Accessed 10/03/2026).
Kidd, Lisa, “Self Publishing or Traditional Publishing: Which is More Profitable?”, Forbes, May 2023. Available at: https://books.forbes.com/blog/self-or-traditional-publishing-profitable/ (Accessed 10/03/2026).
McIlroy, Thad, and Milliot, Jim, “Over 30 years, 40% of Publishing Jobs Disappeared. What Happened?”, PWyz, Sep. 2024. Available at: https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/publisher-news/article/95996-over-30-years-40-of-publishing-jobs-disappeared-what-happened.html (Accessed 10/03/2026).
Milmo, Dan, “Anthropic did not breach copyright when training AI on books without permission, court rules”, The Guardian, June 2025. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2025/jun/25/anthropic-did-not-breach-copyright-when-training-ai-on-books-without-permission-court-rules (Accessed 10/03/2026).
Rowland, Jane, “Self-Publishing and the Rise of the Indie Author”, The Handbook of Creative Writing, 2014, pp. 486-493. Available at: https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.3366/j.ctt1g09x8s.56 (Accessed 10/03/2026).

Deborah is a Literature and Creative Writing student at the University of the Highlands and Islands, balancing study with motherhood. She writes in Portuguese, Spanish, English, and Catalan, and explores language, identity, belonging, and community in her work. She loves reading fantasy, unsettling horror, cosy murder mysteries, and drinking copious amounts of coffee.
Instagram: @watsondebb

