Whatever story we tell ourselves about the changes in the publishing industry, it seems we’re still fascinated by the idea of the bestseller.
You know the authors and the titles about which I’m thinking without me listing them here. The guys and gals who sold a million, held up as the poster children of a new type of publishing.
To me, though, the more interesting stories are those of the micropublishers who don’t make headlines. All those creators who previously had no voice, and no possible chance of income from their words.
The tiny niche magazine.
The evenings-and-weekends writer who now makes a few hundred dollars a month.
The educator who pays the rent with a premium newsletter.
It’s the long tail of micropublishing where the real triumph lies, not the short head. Dreaming of being a self-published bestselling writer is no different to dreaming of being a traditionally-published bestselling writer. You’re still relying on providence, and being picked.
Nice if it happens, sure. But it can be just as nice to ignore all that fluff entirely and play your own game – one at which you’ve a far better chance of winning.