Written by Stephen Thompson | 14 November 2005

As far as I can see there are 4 models of publishing – large mainstream, small independent, self and vanity.

I've read comments on email lists along the lines of: the only publishing worthy of contemplation is that done by mainstream publishers and small independents. The other two forms are, it seems, simply narcissism.

I have to agree that publishing has more than a little egocentricity in it, but I have no problem with the vanity thing. For me, all publishing is vanity, be it a story in short fiction anthologies, small online magazines, newspapers, blogs, websites, diaries... the list goes on. It is all vanity, mainstream publishing included.

Still, I can't stand snobbishness so I'm going into bat for self-publishers and writers who choose to go through vanity publishing houses.

Vanity publishing is that sort of publishing where you send a manuscript to a company and they charge you a fee to have them publish it. For a bit more of a fee, they'll do some editing, for a little bit more they'll do a book cover, for still a bit more they'll get you on Amazon.com, for a bit more... get the picture?

Books published through a vanity publisher are sometimes (often?) of awful quality. It is patently obvious at first glance that some of them are first drafts and need many hours more work before they should even dream of getting to an editor's desk. As a freelance editor I've had a number of manuscripts sent to me that purportedly needed 'just a glance before going to print'. I've also seen a few finished products that have been sent to The Specusphere for review. A lot of them aren't pretty. One I remember in particular wasn't even formatted into paragraphs and the punctuation was decidedly non-standard. Not that, these sorts of publications have a monopoly on non-standard punctuation, of course. I've got examples of some awful punctuation in mainstream publications, books by some of Australia's finest writers.

However, it's true to say that there is far more likelihood of a vanity published book being well below acceptable standards than it is for something from any other publishing segment – some self-published books can lay claim to being in this category, although my experience with self-publishers suggests that a majority of them take the time to use a professional editor.

Sad though the situation is, it doesn't mean that all vanity published books are bad. Those where the writer has made provision for independent and professional assessment, editing, proofreading and typesetting are impossible to identify from books published by, say, Random House – unless you know something about what should appear in the front matter of a book. The text looks good, the sentences read well, the story unfolds evenly, the plot, characterisation, action and dialogue are no more or less ripe for praise and critique as any other book you find in your average bookshop.

From now on, then, when I talk about published works, I am talking about those books that have been scrutinised by professionals. I'm talking about books that have acceptable minimum standards. Any book that has been published without an editor or at least one professional proofreader looking over it is, frankly, a waste of paper. No doubt there are rare cases where this is not so, but they'd be so vanishingly small as to be insignificant – except to the author and his/her fans, of course.

So, with that rider, what's so good about being published by a major House?

I recall a well-known, award-winning Aussie personality making a comment on one email thread along the lines of: I only do articles for small magazines to show how clever I am.

I think this is a fine sentiment, an honest appraisal. I wish more people were clever enough to write for small magazines.

Whether consciously or otherwise, irrespective of that burning desire to write ideas, stories, thoughts, or to let the world into your private life, it just about sums up what publishing in any medium is about – we want to satisfy our vanity. Getting published is an ego thing. It makes no difference if it is done on your diary site, your blog, through Voyager, Gollancz, Xlibris, Lulu, Agog or Prime, the imperative to see your work in print has very close ties to self-esteem. Those who dismiss a body of work because it is not published by one of the big publishers reveal something about their own private vanity – their egos shine orders of magnitude brighter than most. And the reason it doesn't burst splendidly into open view is because they struggle inwardly to cope with some anally retentitive super-ego and have an Oedipus Complex of Freudian proportions.  

There are probably many psychological reasons why people dismiss self-published and vanity published works, but one reason for the snobbery is built on the fundamental misunderstanding that big publishers only publish quality.

That sort of thing might happen in a perfect world, or it may just exist in the egocentric world of aspirational writers (who I suspect think they also write literature and not fiction). The reality is that multinational publishers couldn't give a fig about art or literature; they are interested in profits. They publish according to their agendas, according to what their marketing department can sell, according to whatever is the flavour of the month/year/decade. No doubt there are factions within the corridors of power, no doubt there are people loyal to artistic expression, no doubt there are acquisition editors with flair and dash, but, heavily weighed against them is that dreaded Bottom Line.

Profits make publishing a fad driven business. At present, in the Australian speculative fiction scene, if you are a female medieval fantasy writer you have a better chance of making it to publication than if you are male and into scientific realism – these guys had their day 30 years and more ago. I doubt whether there is any discernable difference in the quality of writing between one and the other, so the difference must be in the genre.

The Harry whatsisname phenomenon and Tolkienesque fantasy has spawned a sub-genre where publishing companies think they can find the next superstar. New readers have been turned on by Pottermania, and Hollywood has fuelled the blockbuster special effects syndrome, so millions of people have been primed for a new mega-seller. The genre has been chosen and the search goes on.

It came from Dan Brown's books instead – so watch out for a spate of conspiracy thrillers to hit the shelves. But let's face it, The Da Vinci Code is hardly literature at its best. It's a page-turner, it's exciting, it's formulaic, the characters are stereotypes and there are great flaws in the story.

Publishers want sales, they choose books they think they can sell. Unfortunately for the writer, sales and quality do not always ring the same till. Because of the imperatives at work in the executive offices of TopBookPublisherInc, they are not always good judges of literary worth. Like everybody, they can see when a manuscript is agreeable, they can see valuable signs that the writer can write clearly, but their decision to publish ends up by being a comparison of similarities rather than an exploration of diversity.

High end publishers target the high end of the market. They need to reach those consumers who know what they like and will read what you serve up until they like something else instead. Those books that make publishers' front lists tend to be rather homogenous, chosen for what marketers have designated as having mass appeal.

When you come to think about it, for some people, being published by a mainstream publisher could easily be seen as a failure. Imagine: your best creative talents amounting to no more and no less than being a snug fit into the middle road of acceptable faddishness. Given the parlous state of mainstream culture, it's not surprising that more progressive writers would investigate alternative ways of publishing their treasures.

But mainstream publishing remains The Holy Grail and writers who produce good work that doesn't fit a particular publishing agenda wait to be discovered. Some spend time looking for agents in the hope that a superior knowledge of the industry network will get them a contract. Many agents take on writers because they can see that the writer can write well. Unfortunately, they also often believe the writer can promote him/herself, and will find a publisher through their own enthusiasm, thus the agent can take his/her cut for simply negotiating a standard contract. Another agent ploy is to take on talent and wait for the fad to change, and hope they have a writer who can ride the next fashion. The result is the same: publishing occurs if you fit the publishing agenda.

An alternative for writers with a properly smithed manuscript is to self-publish or to use a vanity publisher. There's nothing unusually vain about choosing this form of publishing as long as you accept its limitations, its pitfalls and the amount of administrative work it entails. There's certainly no more vanity attached to it than in any other sort of publishing. There is, however, probably a good deal more realism involved, and there are some very interesting things to discover about the industry along the way.