Bigger Isn’t Better
The History, Identity, and Advantages of Small Presses
What do you picture when you hear the words “publishing house?” Many people may think of an editor and writer meeting one-on-one over coffee, intimately discussing the details of a book. Perhaps they imagine publishing houses as literary havens, full of patiently laboring editors whose passion is to work for the sake of books. While it’s true that most editors are booklovers at heart, the reality is that none of the large, household names in publishing, like Penguin Random House or Simon & Schuster, match this idyllic description. As Jeff Shotts, who has been the executive editor of Graywolf Press for over two decades, stated, the classic model of publishing is now mostly reserved for independent presses.
This hasn’t always been the case. In the nineteenth and into the twentieth centuries, all publishing was more or less independent. Of course, this didn’t mean that profit-driven business practices weren’t prevalent, but because the majority of houses were family-owned, the titles often reflected the personal interests of the proprietors, and since publishers didn’t have the resources or technology to distribute on a global scale, the customary business practices of antiquity looked a lot more similar to contemporary independent presses than to the current conglomerates. However, this era—often referred to as the “Golden Age of Publishing”—faded quickly. In its place was “The Age of Acquisitions,” which occurred between 1960 and 1990, and was defined by globalization, the rapid improvement of technology, and a mass scramble by various publishing houses to consolidate their resources. Within those three decades, a reported 573 mergers and acquisitions took place. As a result of these fusions, the English-language publishing industries today are characterized by a huge disparity between the “Big Five” transmedia conglomerates and the smaller publishers.
As the industry’s major players expanded their reach and swallowed up their competitors, they developed a new strategy for acquisitions, a strategy which has paradoxically been described as both “more want to take risks” and “less want to take risks.” As Rachel Deahl observes in a 2010 Publisher’s Weekly article, they began to focus on acquiring big bestsellers, or at least the works they thought could become so. Instead of cultivating a selection of specialized titles for varying audiences, they started “swinging for the fences” by holding huge bidding auctions, offering six-figure advances and seven-figure movie deals, pouring money into marketing and author tours, and sending out thousands of ARCs (Advance Reader Copies). In an article that Deahl wrote a year later, she also mentions how editors began to sniff out potential celebrity authors by considering the number of Twitter followers they had, or the popularity of their blog, as an indication of a book’s viability.
However, the conglomerates have become more prudent than ever regarding works that aren’t deemed traditionally “commercial.” Genres such as poetry, essay, criticism, experimental fiction, short fiction, and works in translation are all being cast aside. This has led to widespread criticism throughout the literary community, with many proclaiming that the homogenization of the industry has had detrimental effects on authors, diversity, and the quality of literature. This is why independent presses have become so culturally significant. While they do not eschew profits, their identity is characterized above all by their commitment to their authors and the quality of the works they publish. Indie publishers circulate works of social justice, highlight communities that are often overlooked, and introduce groundbreaking writing that tests and redefines what literature can be. They keep subcultures alive. In an interview I personally conducted with the co-founder of Three Rooms Press, Kat Georges stressed how her “cut-the-edge creative” press often published works influenced by the punk and dada communities. With so much variety in content, it seems that independent publishers provide a purer meritocracy: the only ostensible barriers for acquisition are the quality of a work and the publisher’s passion for it.
However, indie presses are not purely defined by their niche and experimental outputs. At the end of the day, they are still businesses, and many subsidize their less-profitable passion projects by taking an “everything-but-the-kitchen-sink” approach to specialized content. Works like journals, self-help books, and coloring books are often ignored by the bestseller-driven industry giants due to their moderate profitability, but these consistently in demand categories are precisely what keep independent presses afloat. For example, one independent publishing house with a strong emphasis on underground, LGBTQ+, and translated literature is Arsenal Pulp Press, whose top two highest-selling books—a controversial graphic novel titled Blue is the Warmest Color and an all-vegan cookbook called How it All Vegan!—perfectly demonstrate these presses’ all-encompassing approach.
Many indie presses also find themselves publishing mainstream, commercial works, often due to authors being forgotten, scorned, or fed-up with the high-loss, high-reward system of conglomerate publishing. Since the Big Five houses operate by gambling most of their money on a select few potential bestsellers, the works that make it through their golden gates are held to an absurdly high standard. As Brooke Warner explains in a 2020 Publisher’s Weekly article, “Taking a huge gamble on a debut or unproven author puts the author’s entire career at risk since a ‘successful’ book is one that earns out its advance.” There are countless factors at play when it comes to earn-out potential, including foreign, derivative, and serial rights, which makes it almost impossible to estimate this potential at the point of acquisition. Unfortunately, no matter the circumstances, the top publishing houses are very reluctant to give second chances to an underperforming author.
The reverence and enthusiasm displayed by independent presses can be a breath of fresh air for authors that have gone through a Big Five publisher and felt neglected by their agents and publishers there. Since big publishing houses necessarily prioritize profit over author loyalty, a disappointing gamble often leads an editor to hurriedly shift their focus towards new, different manuscripts. As they look for a title that promises to do better than their last, they often leave the first author feeling abandoned—especially since, most of the time, this shift in the editor’s attention is made without the author’s awareness. Many writers end up preferring the courtesy, generosity, and enthusiasm that independent publishers show in comparison.
For the authors who have the luxury of choosing between large or small publishers, there are many factors to consider. What we do know is that independent presses offer sanctuary to any author who craves more creative autonomy, enjoys an intimate writer-editor relationship, or wants their work to be viewed as art and not as a profit machine. And, although many small presses offer less money upfront, several of them give authors a bigger split on royalties to make up for it. That way, when a book actually sells, the author starts to reap the benefits.
As if their incredible work exposing underappreciated genres, offering specialized content, and providing a haven for neglected authors were not enough, independent presses further aid the larger publishing and literary communities by discovering authors who go on to become widespread, cultural sensations. For example, Bellevue Literary Press published the debut novel Tinkers by Paul Harding in 2010, which won the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction and has sold well over half a million copies. Margaret Atwood, at the beginning of her career, published three collections of poetry through a small press with the Cranbrook Academy of Art. Although most of these authors are quickly swept up by big publishing houses eager to capitalize on their success—Harding’s next book, Enon, was published by Random House in 2013—there is rarely any animosity felt by the independent publishers.
Furthermore, just as they harbor no malice toward the larger publishing houses, it’s very rare that independent presses feel competitive toward each other. On the contrary, indie editors generally recognize their limitations and believe that support can be found in their local and regional literary communities. They understand that, when up against the resources of the Big Five, small presses keep the strongest presence if they agree to work together.
As of 2020, there were approximately 69,709 independent publishers in the book industry worldwide. In many ways, it seems like the only thing that can truly define all of them is their transcendence of categorization. Many exist as one or two-man operations, while others hire dozens of employees. Their books can be found anywhere from your local indie bookstore to Shakespeare & Co. in Paris, France. They publish everything from cookbooks to divination cards, from body horror to esoteric poetry. However, no matter what they publish, every independent press is defined by its constant counterplay with the operations of the large publishing conglomerates. Each time an independent press finds and fills a gap in the market, celebrates a subculture, launches a new writer’s career, or experiments with genre and form, they help to prevent the cultural monopoly that conglomerates inherently strive toward. In doing so, they make the entire literary world a little less monolithic, a little more creative, and a little bit closer to that idyllic image of the publishing house as a literary haven, where books are created out of deep admiration for the stories and ideas that they hold.
Jules Marzluff (‘27) currently attends Susquehanna University, where she has three majors in Creative Writing, Publishing and Editing, and Spanish studies. Born and raised in Centerville, Ohio, Jules was a recipient of the 2023-2024 Janet Weis Creative Writing Scholarship and has served on the reading board for Susquehanna University’s literary magazine, RiverCraft. She enjoys writing in all genres, but she is particularly fond of autofiction, and her work has been published in the Mock Turtle Zine.