How to publish a book

So I’ve published two books, in the past month.

Neither of them are new. In fact both first came out over 20 years ago. But the content is still relevant, so I’ve reissued them. And in the process, I’ve learned how to publish a book.

Adventures In Wonderland was a history of the acid house and rave explosion that happened in the UK in 1988-90. It was published by Hodder Headline in 1998, and it did fairly well. But after a few years it went out of print, and the copyright reverted to me. 

The other book, Bliss To Be Alive, was one I edited. A collection of writing by my friend Gavin Hills, it came out in 2000, after he died. Originally published by Penguin, the copyright had long since reverted to his family. (Who kindly gave me permission to make the new edition available.)

Both books were selling for silly money second-hand, and I got a steady drip of requests for copies. I knew it wasn’t something that would excite a traditional publisher, but I wanted to make them available. Both projects had been on the to-do list for a couple of years, yet somehow they never got done. There was always something more important. And, if I’m honest, something that didn’t involve learning new tech skills.

Then, in June, I realised I had lost focus in lockdown, and was starting to drift. What I needed was to purge my task list of some big, sticky projects that would feel satisfying, without taking up too much time.

The books were an obvious choice. So I broke the task down to chunks that could be done in two hours or less, so I didn’t feel overwhelmed. And I got started.

In the end, it was fun. Here’s what I learned.

Self-publishing is simple.

I used Vellum software (for Mac only, sadly). It was ridiculously easy to create a professional-looking book, with lots of customisable design details. Vellum then generates files for different digital formats, plus an optional print version. I learned it quickly. This means anyone can do it.

You can design your cover in Canva or using Amazon’s own DIY cover tools. I took the easier way out, and used a professional designer, who knew what he was doing. (Thanks, Riccardo.)

Getting the book up for sale was also surprisingly easy. I am a complete technophobe, in case I haven’t said that often enough yet. Still, it took less than 30 minutes to move from the file Vellum had created to finished Kindle book. It was up on Amazon a few hours later.

The print version was a little more fiddly, and not absolutely necessary. But some people still prefer to hold a paper book in their hands, so I made one. Print on demand means there’s no upfront cost, except a little more time. And as they’re only printed if someone orders one and despatched by the distributor (in my case, Amazon), there are no copies for me to store, either.

No gate-keepers on duty, here!

I’m accustomed to needing permission, to reach an audience. I’ll send a book idea to my agent. If she thinks it’s worth taking to publishers, I’ll write an outline and perhaps a sample chapter. If a publishing house shows interest, we’ll haggle over the contract. Weeks, often months of discussions, drafts and writing follow. 

After that, a whole series of editors will read the manuscript and make changes. And months, maybe even years later, the book finally gets into the shops. At any stage in this process, the whole project could die, or go horribly wrong. 

Writing a newspaper or magazine article isn’t usually such a lengthy process. But you still need to pitch your idea to an editor, persuade them to commission it, and your words will be carefully read and edited before publication. Quite a bit can interfere with your initial idea before a reader actually gets to see it. 

The world has changed.

Not having any gatekeepers to slow me down was liberating, but also terrifying. It took a while to get used to writing whatever I wanted in this blog, and then being able to publish it immediately.

But publishing a book in a couple of clicks? That felt huge.

We can all do this now. We can create a podcast or a course, release our music, make a short video or even a full film and get it in front of an audience – all without needing to pass by any gatekeepers. 

But just because you can go it alone, that doesn’t always mean you should. Both of these books had been edited and proof-read for errors when they were first published. If they hadn’t already been read by professionals, I’d have found a freelance editor to read the copy.

Even the best writers get facts wrong, make grammatical mistakes, repeat words. It’s good to have at least one more set of eyes look over it, before you ask someone to part with their money for your work.

Have some pride. And some standards.

I recently downloaded a couple of non-fiction books from Amazon that were so awful, I asked for a refund. They were badly written, riddled with spelling mistakes, and so short they barely qualified as books. All of which I’d have forgiven if the information inside was useful. But both books just contained page after page of essentially meaningless, AI-generated filler. 

It is perfectly possible to make some money by putting shoddy work out there. (Not everyone knows that you can send a Kindle book back for a refund, for instance.) But once the bad reviews get posted or you fail to get feedback at all, you’ll disappear rapidly. 

Online, reputation is everything. To keep earning consistently over time, you need to create something evergreen that is genuinely entertaining or useful. And make it to a reasonable standard. 

Never give the rights away to anything you create

When I started out as a journalist, I couldn’t have imagined a world in which people would be interested in articles I wrote 30 years ago, in recordings of old interviews, or out-of-print books. Yet all of these (and more) have turned into useful revenue streams over the years. 

I’ve never met a creative in any field – music, photography, art, design, film, TV – who hasn’t also been surprised by old work suddenly having some new value, in ways they couldn’t possibly have anticipated. 

This is why so many contracts try to grab the rights to your work. Including rights in media that haven’t been invented or even dreamed of yet. All I can say is resist, resist, resist!

Fight to keep control of everything you possibly can. 

Social media is power

I’m going to be honest: I’ve never been a big fan of social media. I find it exhausting, and a time suck. I’m an introvert, and would much rather enjoy a long conversation with one or two people I know well than all the emojis, shouting, and showing off to strangers that I see on social media. 

But here’s the thing: the bigger your network, the easier it is to sell your work, or find an audience for it. So nurture your followers. Serve them. Post great content. And when the time comes, you’ll also have an army of fans ready to buy your new product, or spread the word about it. 

Just do it with a timer, so you don’t go down the rabbit hole for hours on end. 

It feels good to make money while you sleep

Most of the income from the Gavin Hills’ book will go to his family. And I’m not anticipating either book to be a huge seller. But it was lovely to wake up and find that my clubs book had earned nearly £100 while I was sleeping.  

It’s also opened up opportunities for features, for guest slots on podcasts – and reunited me with a few old friends from the clubs world. 

We all need multiple income streams

If the last few months has taught us anything, it should be that we can no longer rely on a single source of income. Businesses close. Platforms disappear. Jobs end. Pandemics happen. Everything changes. 

The more income streams you have – no matter how small, at first – the more resilient you will be, as things continue to change. 

Create assets. Keep control of them. Find new ways to reuse them. Look after them, and they will eventually help to look after you.