Opinion: Yes, publishing via Amazon is shit, but not publishing at all is even shittier.
Written by Rebecca Rijsdijk.
A friend of mine who just started out her own lndie press showed me some cool designed slides that read ‘why we don’t publish our books on Amazon.’ It wasn't the first time I came across one of these. And with good reason. I will never ever deny Amazon is evil. It is. It's a destroyer of bookshops, of rainforests, of our ozone layer. I have written many a poem about its CEO Jeff Bezos, whom, together with Elon Musk, I regard as one of the horsemen of the Apocalypse.
But, and don't take out your pitchforks yet, (I would love to have a constructive discussion about this in the comments), isn't avoiding Amazon with your small press nothing more than an absolute fucking privilege not all of us have?
Sit down, Karen, and please hear me out.
I love publishing so much that I set up my own press, 'Sunday Mornings at the River' ten years ago. I used to print little photo zines with a print shop in Holland that did have eyes for their carbon footprint etc. I even had a little old mister in a shed hand stitch the books. And I LOVED it. I absolutely did. I remember how proud I was of the 25 copies on the back of my friend's car seat. The thing is; we ended up giving most of them away. Our friends thought we were cool, we thought we were cool, and the first-ever printed zine is still standing proud on my book shelve.
We did some artist zines after that and made no money because we believed the money should go to the artists. I still believe that except now I see publishing as an art form as well, and I take my own input on the final product more serious (I design covers, and interiors, create launch films, mentor poets, communicate, social media-ate etc. I am basically a one-woman army with a bunch of super gifted volunteers that help me run the blog). Meanwhile, I made my money wiping arses for a living in a London hospital. I know, super noble, but after the pandemic and getting long covid which I am still struggling with more than a year later, I wanted to take publishing, in general, a bit more serious. I had already revived my photography press after a hiatus of two years. It was poetry I loved the most, and I tried running Sunday Mornings as a press outside of Amazon. This is what happened.
I knew I had to print on demand, quite early on in the publishing process. As I already mentioned, I am a carer, and they are not only underappreciated, but also very much underpaid. I fund my press with my wages, because I think it is important to be completely independent. Why don't I get funding? I live in a country that hands out money for art projects, right? Right. I stay the hell away from that shit. Because I went to art school before I started working in healthcare, and I started getting familiar with the politics that come with the money. Also, the people responsible for the funding process are yet more gatekeepers in my eyes, and who made them the Jesus-es of Art anyway? It's taste, and I happened to fall outside their taste pallet because, and I quote one of my favourite Art People, "I had no idea to sell myself." I was very confused about this back in the day because I thought it was about creativity. I genuinely did. Did I say I grew up in the woods, writing my own fairytales?
Anyway, I wanted my press to be independent, so that I can print the people I print; the rebel poet in Jordan, the transgender man who sticks a finger up to Karens, the girl in the United Kingdom who writes about witches, the other one in America that writes one trigger warning after another? I want to publish these people without having to ask a person with a big bag of money if that's okay.
So, print on demand it was. I couldn't afford to buy my own stock, still can't now, it's something I have to save up for. I started with Lulu. I loved their concept. Print-on-demand in a way that is healthy for the planet. With Lulu, you can use their API and sell from your own website, they obviously take their cut, but you can set up the royalties real easy with them. They pay your authors cut automatically by the percentage you set. Loved all of that. Sounds too good to be true? That's because it is. Hardly anyone wants to make YET another account to buy a book. Most people already have an Amazon account. On top of that, Lulu’s shipping costs were dramatic. I saw a lot of abandoned carts if people did take the time to sign up and support an indie press. The reason (I asked) was the crazy shipping costs. One woman told me: “I can't buy all the books I want if the shipping costs are almost higher than the books themselves.” I thanked her for her feedback.
Looked into Barnes and Noble. They seemed legit (spoiler alert, they are). At least they are not destroying the planet. Lots of the same problems arose though. I am not based in the States or in the UK. I am based in a tiny little country in Holland, and people over here all have an Amazon account, but never heard of Barnes.
For the presses who did get funding: congratulations, that's a privilege.
For the presses run by someone who was born into money: congratulations, that's a privilege.
For the rest of us, does this mean we can shelve our publishing dreams?
This, to me, is kind of the same as bookshops pulling up their noses to self-published titles; the big publishers deciding who is worthy. I think the authors I worked with so far are fantastic. I think their work is important. I think their voices need to be heard far and wide. I think their words matter and have the power to overthrow billionaires and systems. We are stuck in this capitalist shithole system (for now). Most of us can’t flee the capitalist system by buying a house on a mountain that overlooks the ocean. We are stuck in the hussle; the 9 to 5 is harder to escape than those self-help people want you to believe. You wouldn’t buy their books otherwise. So I do what I can; I go out and protest it, I switched to a green bank and a sustainable health insurance provider because these alternatives are actually already out there.
Don’t get me wrong, I would love to work with a company that doesn't destroy our homes in the name of capitalism. But I would love to live in a world without billionaires, without Tories and without inequality. But the reality is; I was raised below the poverty line in Holland, and I have shit to say. Until there is an alternative for Amazon, I will print with them and say the shit. So far, I haven't heard any viable alternatives from the presses that made these beautiful anti-Amazon slides. And also, maybe being against something is a wee bit easier than coming up with an alternative that does work for both independent publishers and the planet. If you happen to know how the publishing process can be democratized, and I can still leave healthcare selling books and doing what I love, I would LOVE to hear from you in the comments. (The first one to call me a whiny little bitch gets a lollipop.)
For the presses who did get away from Bezos and his cronies; I applaud you for not having to use Amazon to print books, really, I do, but there’s no need to make the rest of us without the same privilege feel like shit.
REBECCA RIJSDIJK is the author of several poetry collections, including You Were Married When I Met You, and The Care Home. Besides writing poetry, Rebecca works in healthcare and lives in Eindhoven with her partner and a bandit dachshund called Bobbie. She is also the Editor-in-Chief of Sunday Mornings at the River and owns an array of unpopular opinions.