Self-publish without losing your mind (or dignity)

You’ve spent decades building businesses, managing teams, navigating recessions, and probably getting talked into at least one regrettable leadership retreat. Somewhere along the line, you picked up a few hard-won lessons—and now you want to put them in a book. Good call. The world doesn’t need another bland TED Talk in print, but it could use your story told honestly and well.

So you start writing. And then you stop. And then you Google: “How do I publish a book?”

That’s where things get slippery.

Because unless you’re a celebrity, an ex-spy, or a disgraced politician with a tell-all manuscript and a documentary deal, traditional publishing probably isn’t in the cards. That’s not cynicism—it’s math. Traditional publishers want either fame or a guaranteed audience, and ideally both. They are not, as a rule, looking for a well-lived life and some sharp insights on management.

But here’s the good news: you don’t need them. Self-publishing used to be code for “this wasn’t good enough for the real thing,” but that stigma has largely vanished—thanks in part to smart people like you deciding to skip the gatekeepers and build their own gates. The challenge, though, is that now you’re the publisher, too—and guess what? That means you’re also the project manager, art director, production supervisor, and marketing department.

Let’s take a look at what that actually entails, without the usual hype or hand-holding.

DIY vs. Hybrid: Choose Your Own Adventure

If you self-publish, you’ve got two options. One is to do it yourself—hire your own editor, designer, formatter, and figure out the rest as you go. This is the “build your own house from salvaged barn wood” approach. Charming. In theory.

The other option is to use a hybrid publisher. Think of it as hiring a competent general contractor: you pay them, and they coordinate all the trades. A good hybrid will manage editing, design, ISBNs, formatting, and even basic marketing setup. You’ll still have to write the checks and make decisions, but you won’t be up at 2 a.m. wondering what DPI your cover image needs to be.

If you like control, go DIY. If you like sleep, consider hybrid.

What Self-Publishing Really Involves (a.k.a. The Part Where Most People Get Tired)

Self-publishing isn’t just clicking “upload” and waiting for your literary Pulitzer. It’s a sequence of actual jobs—some creative, some technical, and some just plain tedious. You’ll need a well-written manuscript (I can help with that), professional editing, proofreading, cover design, and formatting. You’ll need ISBNs (they cost money), files in multiple formats (EPUB, PDF, and the cursed MOBI), and a strategy for distribution. Then you’ll need to market the thing, which is roughly as fun as selling a timeshare in Tucson.

You don’t need to be an expert. But you do need to respect the process. Because readers can smell amateur hour from a mile away. Especially the ones who write Amazon reviews with the same fervor most people reserve for jury duty.

E-Book or Print? The Eternal Struggle

You’ll need both. E-books are easy to distribute and great for reaching far-flung readers. Print books have presence—you can hand them out at events, mail them to clients, or display them in your office like a trophy that says “I survived the publishing process.”

Print-on-demand services (like KDP and IngramSpark) let you avoid the classic garage-full-of-unsold-books scenario. They only print when someone orders. It’s modern. It’s efficient. It’s also a bit more expensive per book, but you won’t be buried in unsold inventory if the book doesn’t become a surprise bestseller in Uzbekistan.

Timelines, Budgets, and Other Mood Killers

Let’s talk time. From the moment your manuscript is final, it will likely take three to six months to get everything edited, designed, formatted, uploaded, reviewed, printed, and available for sale. Can you go faster? Of course. Should you? Only if you also cut your own hair with hedge clippers.

As for cost, you can self-publish a professional-grade business memoir for $7,000 to $15,000. That includes editing, design, formatting, ISBNs, and some basic web presence and marketing tools. If someone tells you they can do it for $500, they’re either lying or plan to staple it by hand.

Marketing is its own beast. If you build it, they will not come—not unless you give them a reason. That means building an author website, getting some decent headshots, showing up on LinkedIn with something more insightful than “Here’s what I had for lunch,” and convincing a few people to leave reviews that don’t sound like they were written by your cousin.

When It’s Time to Pay for a Grown-Up

If the idea of managing all this gives you a rash—or if you’d rather spend your time running a business, flying helicopters, or learning how to make decent espresso—a hybrid publisher might be a good bet.

You’ll pay more up front—usually $10,000 to $30,000—but you’ll get a team, a timeline, and a deliverable. Just make sure you pick one with a solid track record and a whiff of editorial standards. Avoid anyone who guarantees bestseller status or tries to upsell you on bookmarks.

The Bottom Line

You’ve worked too hard for too long to put your name on something half-baked. Self-publishing gives you the tools to tell your story, your way—with polish, professionalism, and purpose. But it’s not free, and it’s not fast. It’s a project. A meaningful one.

You already know how to run a company, build a brand, and deal with people who don’t read instructions. Publishing your book will feel familiar in all the best and worst ways.

The key is not to confuse “self-publishing” with “do everything yourself with no budget and a prayer.” Invest where it counts—editing, design, and distribution. And when in doubt, get help. Preferably before you’ve spent two weeks trying to understand Amazon’s bleed requirements.

Because if you do it right, this book won’t just tell your story. It’ll reflect who you are: smart, experienced, and still not afraid of a challenge.

And hey—if nothing else, you’ll finally have something to hand people who ask, “So, what exactly do you do?”