– Why I ultimately chose to self-publish my debut novel

AS I wrapped up the final draft of LEECH and prepared to send it off to print this past week, I reflected on the journey that led me here, and how I ended up on the decided and definite path of self-publishing. I had paused a moment to decide whether I really wanted to go this route. After all, in the creative writing space, your work is slower to be taken seriously as a self-published piece than if it were picked up by even the smallest traditional publisher. I get it. In fact, I, too, held a staunch belief in holding out for a traditional publisher until my mind changed, and I will tell you why.

I’ve worked on LEECH for 11 years, and my inability to complete it sooner was due to a lack of resources and community in the local writing space. So I took my time, accumulating resources bit by bit with every passing year, all while adding to the story and slowly bringing it to life. My intended approach, once finished, had always been the same: if the wait is too long (to further add to those 11 years), aim for self-publishing, but still submit my work to a select number of agents to take my book through that rite of passage, and I did.

Why agents and not publishers?

Because agents help you get the full package deal, they’re the go-betweens that pitch your manuscript to publishers, negotiate contracts, and guide your career long-term. With several months to spare before my intended launch date in September, I decided to query 10 agents to follow the process.
I used Poets & Writers (poetsandwriters.org) as my primary resource due to its vast and up-to-date database of literary agents. I looked for agents with a new or expanding list in my genre, a clear interest in fiction, those who actively stated a desire to work with Black, Indigenous and People of Colour (BIPOC) stories and agents who didn’t require large sample submissions upfront (thankfully, most didn’t). I steered clear of those whose guidelines felt rigid or overly meticulous, those who demanded brevity due to their schedules, and those whose tone came off as too impersonal or closed off to unsolicited queries.

The outcome?

Out of the 10 queries, I received three responses over four months. They were rejections (another rite of passage for every author), but they were all polite, professional, and encouraging:
“I’m simply not enthusiastic enough about my ability to sell this work.”
“We didn’t connect with the writing in the enclosed sample pages.”

“I didn’t fall in love with the style in these pages enough to feel I’d be your best champion.”
Each response also included some version of the same sentiment: “This is just one opinion in a highly subjective business.” And honestly? They weren’t wrong. I now have these letters in my archive, and I will cherish them as part of my first foray into traditional publishing—a necessary step, even if it didn’t result in representation.

Traditional publishing is excellent, but…

It turns out, in the traditional publishing world, the odds are stacked high against any debut author. Of all the manuscripts submitted to publishers annually, a staggering 95–99% are instantly rejected for poor quality, unoriginality, or irrelevance. From the 5% that make it past this first cut, most are still turned down due to market timing, similar titles on the publisher’s list, or shifting industry trends. The result? Only 1–2% of all submissions ever see the light of day in print through a traditional publisher. These numbers are even more daunting, given that the Caribbean region lacks a large-scale publishing industry.

I had a decision to make, and for me, it ultimately turned out to be the logical choice. After being so meticulous with LEECH over the years: two literary assessments, multiple writing coaching sessions, two rounds of developmental edits, one round of copyediting, and a final proofread—the feedback I started to receive from the professionals working with me was unanimous: This book has commercial potential.

That kind of validation from editors, authors and coaches who took the time to read and work closely with me made me proud that I created a good story. Soon, a strange realisation washed over me: none of those agents were there throughout the journey. None of them saw the setbacks, the rewrites, the blood and ink it took to get here. Why should this story—one already recognised by professionals I respect—be held up or passed over by people who, through no fault of their own, haven’t had the chance to know it truly?

So, why self-publishing?

Because it gives me ownership, and it’s more accessible. The profits return to the author, and the timeline and the choices are mine. Self-publishing isn’t for everyone, as it demands marketing savvy, creative control, and a lot of behind-the-scenes work. I’m fortunate to come from a background in communications and marketing, so I am not too worried about my ability to push the book’s marketing beyond launch day. In fact, one of my editors told me flat-out: “Given your skill set, self-publishing is actually your best option.”

And they were right. I always knew this story would be self-published, but I needed to walk the traditional path, to feel it and say I’d done it, and I’m glad I did. Now, I know what’s on both sides of the fence, and I can say with certainty that this story —this one—deserves to come out on my terms.

Perhaps another story —one I write more quickly and develop with a deeper understanding of this industry—can wait on someone else’s timeline.
I’ve enjoyed every bit of the journey, even the moments that hurt, but LEECH has waited long enough.

LEECH will be available on Amazon (e-book and Paperback) and Austin’s Book Services from September 20.