Why I Chose Self-Publishing Over Independent Publishers

"The only person who should have the power of life or death over your book is you."

"And the financial deal? No advance, a supposedly “advantageous” royalty split (according to them), and, most importantly, a contract locking the rights for five long years. Next."

Ahhh, the life of an author… Writing a book is only the beginning of the journey.

The creative phase, in my opinion, is the most enjoyable. Locked in a bubble of concentration, isolated from the world, breathing life into extraordinary stories.

Sleepless nights, fried neurons, but a euphoria that makes you say: “More!”

Write, write, write… Euphoria, pause, existential crisis, euphoria, pause… An emotional rollercoaster that, despite the nausea, keeps us coming back for more.

When the first draft is finished, there’s a sense of liberation: “I did it!” But don’t celebrate too quickly, fellow author or aspiring writer, because spoiler alert: the real challenges are just beginning…

I’ll save the nervous breakdowns during the editing and revision phases for another article. Today, let’s focus on the dilemma: publishing. You have two options: self-publishing (hello burnout) or submitting your manuscript to agents (vade retro satanas) or directly to independent publishers (hello burnout again).

Spoiler #2: whichever path you choose, prepare to hear Dante’s words echoing: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

Of course, some authors have smooth sailing from the start, and that’s amazing!

But for others (hello, dark thriller writers like me), it’s a different story…

Why Not Major Publishers?

If you’re unknown, unagented, and don’t walk around in the “established author” costume, forget Harper, Hachette, or Penguin. Your submission will disappear into an obscure vortex, never to be heard from again. Fortunately, there are independent publishers.

These literary rebels resist the capitalism of bestseller factories. They accept unsolicited manuscripts and, icing on the cake, no agents required. When you visit their websites, it feels like Bonheur City—everything seems easy. But then comes the wait for a response because, let’s face it, independent publishers also need to read tea leaves to predict future bestsellers.

My Experience with Independent Publishers

I gave it a shot. I bought the Writers & Artists Yearbook (doing things by the book) and sent out ten submissions. Then… I forgot about them: between medical exams and career changes in real life, I neglected to follow up. Surprise! The responses eventually arrived.

There were, of course, the inevitable “No” replies. That’s just part of the game, and you can’t take it personally. Artistic rejection is a common part of the creative process and should never shake your drive or motivation. Yes, industry professionals decide a work’s fate, but they don’t hold the ultimate truth about what will succeed.

Never forget: the audience decides, and no amount of power can outweigh the tastes of the people. These negative responses are usually concise and professional, some slightly condescending but rarely useful for improving your writing process. Passing emails, as important as Black Friday ads or yet another miracle product…

What amused me most were the two acceptances I received.

The first? The guy wasn’t clear. My manuscript was “good but…” When I tried to understand what he wanted, I got nowhere. Nothing, nada, a total void… It was already off to a bad start for building trust…

I even wondered why he had replied if all he had to offer were frustrating onomatopoeias. Clearly, I think he just wanted a filler book for his catalog. I’m not even sure Mythomania would have ever been marketed if I had gone with that offer. And what’s the point of signing a publishing contract if I have to handle everything myself without any real support from someone who’s supposed to believe in the book with me? The prestige of having a publisher’s logo on the cover and spine (assuming it ever gets that far)?

Honestly, I couldn’t care less. Next.

The second? This was comedy gold. My book was “incredible, powerful, unique…” but they never mentioned its title. Always “your adult novel.” Not once did they say Mythomania. Seriously?

And of course, there were “little adjustments” to make: tone down the violence, soften the graphic scenes, remove Forrest Hill because no one likes reading about misery… Basically, they wanted to turn Mythomania into a sanitized 300-page standard thriller.

And the financial deal? No advance, a supposedly “advantageous” royalty split (according to them), and, most importantly, a contract locking the rights for five long years. Next.

Why Self-Publishing?

After these experiences, the conclusion was clear: if I have to do everything myself, I might as well do it my way. Between the publisher who wanted me to rewrite Mythomania as a watered-down version and the one who clearly had no funds to promote it, I quickly realized that this famous “editorial support” is sometimes pure fantasy.

The literary world is like Call of Duty, but for uptight people. No badass skins or machine guns, just malicious pens and condescending emails. In this epic battle, you’re just a poor soldier on your own. Publishers expect you to be a writer, marketer, PR specialist—a Swiss Army knife—but never give you the proper tools to fight.

So, let’s be honest: if I’m going to write, edit, promote, and sell my novel as a one-woman army, why bother with a publisher who clearly can’t even get a pigeon off the ground? The famous “we’re in this together” quickly turns into “figure it out, but I’ll take the biggest slice of the pie.” No thanks.

With self-publishing, it’s different. I’m not expecting miracles, but at least I have total control. My novel stays as I envisioned it: raw, dark, and uncompromising.

Yes, it’s a tough path. Yes, it requires energy, boldness, and sharp interpersonal skills. I’m learning, making mistakes, adapting as I go, and loving every bit of it. There’s no magic formula anyway; you just have to believe and persevere. It’s a journey I can walk with my head held high, without betraying who I am or what Mythomania represents to me.

Because deep down, Mythomania is more than just a story. It’s my battlefield, my war cry, and no one will water it down to turn it into a mere market product. If I’m going to carry my novel to readers alone, I’ll do it with pride and without compromise.