Why Writers Really Pay to Publish Books

How much does it take to publish a book on your own as a writer? In the past, the answer would have been $0. If you found an agent and got your book in front of publishers, you could have them pay to publish your work.

Now, though, even most traditional publishers want their writers to be spending out their royalties and advances for marketing and other elements like travel. In the world of hybrid and traditional book publishing, the typical cost to publish a book is between $10,000 and $50,000, according to Salwa Emerson. Some writers pay to publish themselves through a different primary job, while others rely on supportive partners, family, or even crowdfunding (e.g., Kickstarter).

For most writers, paying to publish is a gift to others

In some ways, that amount of money pays for an ego boost. Writers can feel the joy that comes from knowing they followed through, got their work into the world, and connected with readers. You also can see it as an investment. If you put money into getting some work out there, your book can become a stepping stone to additional work and a fuller, more stable career.

But most writers I know don’t shell out that kind of cash only for their own gain. They put the money down because they want others to feel free or make some kind of change in their lives from their book. The authors are willing to see it as an ethical investment that goes beyond themselves to maintain the craft — the money protects everything good that comes from having literature in the world. They feel so strongly about offering that protection as a gift to others that they will pinch as many pennies as they must to make it work.

Where money goes out, confidence might come back in

Writers always have sought these kinds of rewards in their work. But now that more writers have to pay to publish, the degree of commitment is higher. People who are not willing to put the money together are far less likely to see publication, and gathering $10,000 – $50,000 often takes serious work. So, if there is any good that comes from having this level of financial hurdle in place, it’s that writers who hold authentic passion for the job are separated from those who don’t.

I worry all the time that the issue of money will discourage fantastic, poorer writers from sharing their talent. And it doesn’t take long to search Google and discover that the market has been inundated by less-than-stellar books by those who are more well-off and simply want to make another buck. The concept of a meritocracy feels lost.

But on the positive side of the cash problem, writers who have to pinch pennies might come away from publication surer than ever that they are contributing to the world in the right way. Every time they need another dollar, they have to come back to the “why” behind their work and confirm inside themselves that the fight is worth it.

None of this is to say I want to struggle financially to produce my writing, or that I want other writers to suffer in the fire. Rather, it’s to say that in an industry that’s highly unforgiving, the selfless reasons for writing can be grounding. If we must pay to play, at least confidence in our “why” can be a prize.