Last week, I had the wonderful privilege of announcing that I've signed with Azala Press to help publish the first book in the Stormbringer Saga. Those of you who've been following my writing journey from the beginning know that publishing traditionally was the original goal. It was only around the summer of 2023 that I shifted my mindset and opened up to the freedoms and possibilities granted to me by self-publishing. So now, I want to talk about what changed my mind (twice), and what we can expect moving forward.
In the summer of 2019, I finished the first draft of Unraveled. Dreams of publication occupied my every thought, and I was dead set on following the traditional route: I’d query a slew of literary agents and find the perfect one who would auction my book to one of the Big Five publishers, opening the doors for my “big break” as a serious author. It was a faraway dream that I simultaneously fawned over and shied away from. Getting my book published not only meant that people would have to read it (what a shocker), but that the right people would have to love it.
This was really what deterred me from traditional publishing. I was haunted by anecdotes of authors who landed their dream book deal, only for in-house editors to demand changes that would make the book more marketable to audiences. I was—am—protective of my book. I didn’t write it to pander to trends. I wrote what I was passionate about: identity and self-discovery, truth and justice, secrets coming to light.
So, around the summer of 2023, four years into this writing journey, I settled into the idea of self-publishing. It was a costly decision, in regards to both time and money, but I was determined not to let anyone turn Unraveled into something it was never meant to be. “Indie author” became a badge of honor, a source of pride. The online writing community is rather niche as it is; I felt like I had finally found my people when I connected with other indie authors—strangers who shared similar interests, who struggled just as I did with having to market their books, not just write them. It was honestly the most comfortable and welcome I’d ever felt in any writers’ space.
If it was so perfect, then why did I suddenly jump tracks? Surely not just to see if the grass was greener. Believe me—if that was the case, then I wouldn’t have signed the contract with Azala Press.
First things first: I sent them Unraveled on a whim during summer. I was still in the mindset of self-publishing, and this was sort of a fallback plan. A “let’s just see what happens” kind of move on my part. After all, there was no guarantee they’d actually like it—remember what I said about writing what I was passionate about, not what was trending—and even if they did, I didn’t have to accept their offer if I didn’t trust the contract. With nothing really to lose, I sent them the manuscript, and at the start of October, they came back and said they “absolutely loved” it.
I’ll be honest: I forgot I even sent them my book. Summer was a busy time for me, as I was wrapping up The Seafarer & the Keeper, stepping back into post-production for Unraveled, and just dealing with general life things. The last thing on my mind was a potential offer from a publishing house. So it was genuine surprise that I felt when the head and author coordinator both wanted to meet with me to discuss my book and the potential of signing me to Azala Press.
Going into the meeting, my guard was on high alert. I reminded myself firmly that just because they liked my book didn’t mean I had to accept anything they offered. I was prepared to jump to my book’s defense if the contract in any way diminished my rights and creative freedoms as the author and creator of the series. I wasn’t going to let myself be charmed by the mere and simple fact that this was a new thing that had popped up on my radar.
It was kind of like bringing a machine gun to a squirrel fight, for lack of a better analogy. Actually, there wasn’t a fight at all. These publishers weren’t greedy, corporate-minded salespeople; they were authors themselves. They were avid and passionate readers. They understood the author’s desire to retain control over their own creation, and that respect was reflected in the contract, among other pleasantly surprising aspects.
In short, this was a good contract. It was a great deal. Virtually nothing would be lost if I signed, and I’d retain full creative control, which is quite rare among traditional publishers. The question, then, that I faced, was not what was best for my book, but what was best for me. I always felt that no matter which path I took, Unraveled would find success. But how did I want to find that? Was it imperative that my name be the only one in the credits, or could I be content with letting another publisher put their name on my book?
I could be, and I am.
What it eventually came down to was a more pressing concern for my work-life balance. As I stated earlier, the summertime was busy for me. Autumn was no different. I was still in rush mode, having just finalized the book cover, and I was trying to organize e-ARCs for early reading and reviews when I felt the effects of burnout creeping up on me. There was no lack of passion, ever, but there was a noticeable lack of energy, a shift in my approach to my work. It was dread and fear of failure that kept me glued to my desk, not buzzing excitement for a project that was so close to completion.
If that was how my life was going to look, even for just the next few months, then I needed to take a step back. I wasn’t going to allow my own pride—this odd need to be the only name attached to my book—to siphon out the joy I found in writing.
Since signing that contract and joining the authors at Azala Press, I’ve experienced more support and warmth than I thought I’d ever find as a solitary writer. Not once have I ever felt like my story isn’t mine anymore just because it’s in the hands of a traditional publisher. If anything, I feel like Unraveled is poised to take center stage in January, a higher place of honor than anything I alone could have offered. I’m so heartened by the enthusiasm my publisher has for all the authors in the house, and I wish I could go back to 2019 and whisper to myself, “Keep writing. Your dreams are not as unattainable as you think they are.”
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