Why It’s Okay If Your Self-Published Book Sells Zero Copies
A call to action for all self-publishing hobbyists.
This article was originally published on my Substack on 29 June 2026.
Whilst acquainting myself with the cynical streams of cultural commentary that make up Reddit as we know it (more specifically, r/selfpublish), I came across a post decrying the most controversial facet of self-publishing: sales.
The Redditors’ opinions of sales run amok against the platform’s backdrop of open-hearted debate. The crux is that self-published authors are not excited about the responsibilities and realities of marketing and selling a book.
The thread seems to share a common realisation that, when you self-publish, you don’t end up with a book at all; you end up with a product. And what is a product in our ever-entrepreneurial society but something that must be marketed and sold?
The commenters pointed out that self-publishing is a well-saturated market, and it is no different to other industries in that sales sit at its core. There are fears that even standout stories get lost in this ocean, and that authors are stuck between a rock (posting on Instagram) and a hard place (posting on TikTok). Authoritative voices say that every author hoping to be worth their weight in salt must ‘play the game’ of commercial activity or risk feeling like a no-sales failure forever.
One phrase has been tossed into the mix by several users: ‘writing is an art; publishing is a business.’ I agree, and the success of a book is as far removed as can be from the creative foundations that led you to write it in the first place. There is nothing creatively stimulating about sales per ISBN, printing costs, ARC statuses and total units sold.
These quantitative undertakings fall under your remit if you are a self-published author. But are book sales really what we pour our dreams and imagination onto the page for?
I will begin by saying that I don’t believe there is a wrong way to self-publish. Many authors take a methodical approach, embracing their ‘product’ as an opportunity to establish a foothold in the literary industry on their own terms. From there, they flourish, taking initiatives like marketing in their stride and turning intention into sales and a steady influx of income. Any self-published author who has achieved success from their books should be applauded, and it is a feat to celebrate.
Other authors – no less prestigious, might I add – treat self-publishing as a pure-spirited hobby. If it’s all for enjoyment, there is no real need to calculate milestone accomplishments or forecast sales figures. Everything is done for the love of sharing their writing with the world; to inspire others, to give people hope, to push their own boundaries and to feel proud of themselves.
There is a subcategory of hobbyist authors composed of talented writers who have pursued other paths in life: corporate roles or non-literary success. As some people treat themselves to watches, wine, guitars, designer bags or tennis lessons, why can’t writers-for-fun put their hard-earned financial stability towards a passion project to be proud of? This demographic is usually characterised by the fact that these writers don’t really want to be full-time authors; they enjoy their existing jobs and are investing in self-publishing for personal fulfilment. That is as much of a reason to self-publish as having aspirations of commercial viability.
I sit somewhere in the middle of this discussion. I am a book editor, copywriter and self-publishing consultant by trade, so this is an industry I am already immersed in. Although it would be nice to build a community of readers, I am self-publishing a short story collection with a singular, niche goal: to develop a tangible product (there’s that word again…) to showcase to prospective clients.
Whether I make or lose money selling the book to real readers is less of a concern to me than whether my clients receive their copy in the mail. And, for this reason, the physical copies I print will likely be a loss-making enterprise; giving them out to clients for free and paying for postage doesn’t appear financially sensible on paper.
But that is okay. The purpose of the physical copies is to showcase the work of my editorial and self-publishing consultancy. A client who can feel a beautiful, professionally published book in their hands would likely recognise the value of my services faster than if I ramble on about how ‘I can create a beautiful book for you.’
I would love for new clients to open the story collection and think, ‘Wow, I like the custom ornament break. Can we create one in my novel?’ I hope to receive an email saying, ‘I like the font you’ve used, but can we do mine sans serif?’ As long as my self-published debut serves its purpose as a proof point for my clients, I am happy. Zero copies or a million copies, sales don’t matter in this context.
Self-publishing a book for enjoyment and pride is very special indeed. Self-publishing a book to launch a writing career on your own terms is brave and inspiring.
And, if you’re me, self-publishing a book to help navigate client relationships is no less viable. To reference a popular Instagram trend as of June 2026: that is my ‘why.’
What’s yours?
How I’m Feeling
In this article, I referenced creating a custom ornament break. Turns out, it is not a random reference I came up with for the sake of storytelling. I finalised an image with a fantastic cover designer today, and I am on cloud nine. Future clients and interested parties: wanna do this?
What I’m Reading
My reading of White Nights, whichI mentioned in my previous post, is not yet finished. Can I blame my slow speed on working, self-publishing my short story collection, enjoying the sunshine and watching Metallica in concert? If so, I claim this defence.
What’s Coming Next
In my next post, I’ll explain to novice writers how and why one of the stories in my collection took seven years to write… and another took just two days.
