While self-publishing options exist, the pitfalls are legion and costly

One of the most beautiful things about technology is how it democratises choice. From an author’s perspective, it is a joy that today, you can finish writing your novel, collection of short stories, play or even memoir and upload it on Amazon, Kobo Writing Life, Lulu, IngramSpark, Draft2Digital, or other self-publishing platforms and voila! You are a published author.

These platforms offer different combinations of e-book publishing, print-on-demand, distribution and sales options, making it possible for authors to bypass the traditional publishing gatekeepers.

Let us stay with the author’s perspective. Back in the day, even when legacy publishers did not have tight schedules to produce textbooks for school curriculum support, it would take too long, sometimes years, to get feedback on a script one had submitted to a publisher.

Sometimes some got angry when they saw a book by an established author being reviewed in the press after being released by the same publisher who had ‘sat’ on their manuscript for years. It got worse.

Some first-time authors, consumed by disillusionment, even refused to revise their scripts when they finally got an assessment report from the publisher recommending far-reaching changes in their work.

They interpreted this as a rejection slip wearing a suit and a tie. And of course I have told you of some who hit the roof when, after an interminable wait, they were politely told that the script did not “fit in our current publishing programme”.

What, of course, most of these writers did not know was that, in those legacy-publishing-monopoly days, firms that published cultural works such as plays and novels were few. So they received a lot of scripts, some from across the continent.

The internal evaluation process was also quite rigorous for the top ones, all because no one wanted to rush the assessment process and in the process end up prioritising literary also-rans as the real gems found their way to other publishers or to what Leon Trotsky called the “dustbin of history”.

Besides the sheer numbers, literary editors had to be accountable. You did not just look at the huge pile of printouts and sometimes handwritten scripts in one corner of your office and just decide half of them had to go one Friday afternoon.

In some cases, the preliminary assessment was done by someone else so that, if they saw promise in a script, you had to explain, defending your arguments with external advisers’ input and well-argued assessment reports, why you were rejecting a script in which someone else had seen possibly the next literary gem from Africa.

So, when technology made it possible for one to have their paperback or hardback out without the gatekeepers in cosy offices that publishing editors operated from back then, there was a collective sigh of relief.

These celebrations spilled over to literary journals and newspaper pages such as this one, where the new kids on the block were now self-published authors who had bypassed the so-called ‘experts’ and were releasing one title after another.

Buried in the newfound bravura was a whole battalion of challenges.

One, many realised publishing on Amazon, for instance, was just the first step. Getting people to see, buy and recommend your book cost a pretty penny.

Others had their books flagged by buyers and reviewers for editorial bloopers, which saw the tech platforms pulling down numerous books and asking the authors to seek the services of professional editors. And when many went looking for editors to refine their works, they encountered the same faces they had scoffed at or accused of hindering creativity through excessive gatekeeping.

The wheel, as we used to say back in the day, had come full circle.

So, again, it came to pass that, after realising that freedom without responsibility was the prerogative of the harlot, any self-respecting author had to seek the services of a manuscript evaluator, a developmental editor, a reviser, a copyeditor once the book was laid out and a proofreader.

This newfound realization again spawned another industry of quick-fix self-publishing firms where the designer doubled as the editor and the pre-press expert.

Most of these firms would come up with all manner of books. Most of the owners were not actually publishers. They were purely business people who got a project, looked for an ‘editor’, negotiated the fees for the project on hand and if the editor, designer or proof-reader proved too expensive, they got a fresh graduate from some college or other who had done some units on publishing and they were in business.

Of course, there are many in this space who are industry veterans and who stay in the business through referrals. And mercifully, many of those who were in it for quick money soon moved on to another industry after negative feedback exposed them as people who left clients with many copies of bad books that they did not know what to do with.

So, while I am a firm believer in the ability of technology to improve how the publishing industry works, I am also a firm believer in the basic principles. And the cardinal principle in publishing, as the late Dr Henry Chakava never tired of reminding us in our Thursday training sessions as young editors, publishing lies halfway between the cathedral and the stock exchange. And while like any other business there must be a return on investment, failing which the shareholders will want your business head on a silver platter, the age-old value of a cultural work is the authenticity of its soul, its quality and its ability to deliver that which has no price tag.

It is a balancing act that self-publishers must learn. A book, especially a cultural literary work, is a living thing.

It outlives its author and shares a probable life that is greater than its author’s. It is for that reason that, while self-publishing is a welcome option, its purveyors would do well to beware of its many pitfalls.