Market Intelligence or Where Dreams Meet Spreadsheets?
If r/writing is a support group for people who think they might want to be writers, then r/selfpublish is a business seminar for people who’ve decided to take the plunge.
The difference hits you immediately when you scroll through the posts. Instead of “How do I know if my story is good enough?” you get “Amazon terminated my KDP account–help!” Instead of philosophical discussions about the nature of creativity, you get detailed breakdowns of advertising spend versus return on investment.
It’s where the rubber meets the road, and the road is paved with Amazon algorithms and reader reviews.
I’ve been lurking on r/selfpublish, trying to decide if this community could actually help me sell some of the books I’ve written. The short answer: Maybe, but not in the way I expected.
Unlike the more ethereal conversations in r/writing, this community deals in hard numbers and harder truths. After just a few days of observation, I’ve learned a lot about the brutal realities of indie publishing.
Authors regularly post detailed monthly earnings reports–sometimes impressive figures from extensive catalogs, sometimes more modest numbers. The comments often aren’t congratulatory. Often forensic, in fact. People want to know about advertising spend, cover costs, editing expenses, the works. Imagine watching an autopsy performed on a success story.
Alas, Numbers Don’t Lie
And that’s what strikes me about r/selfpublish: the numbers don’t lie, and the community doesn’t let you pretend they do.
The brutal math I’ve been wrestling with in my own planning comes directly from conversations like these. Authors on the forum share their actual earnings, not the fantasy numbers you see in marketing materials. They’ll tell you about the brutal gap between median and mean author earnings–and they’ll explain exactly why that difference matters for your business planning.
They discuss the winner-takes-all nature of publishing, where most authors earn very little while a few earn disproportionately well. When you see statistics broken down in real-world context by people living them, they stop being abstract numbers and become strategic intelligence.
When someone posts “I’m thinking about quitting my day job to write full time,” the responses are swift and merciless. Show us your numbers. How many books? What’s your monthly average? Do you have six months of expenses saved? Have you tested your ability to maintain that income level?
From my lurking perspective, it’s not cruelty—it’s the kind of practical wisdom that keeps people from making catastrophic financial decisions based on one good month.
A Nice Current of Mutual Support
But here’s what’s interesting about the community dynamics, even from the outside looking in: despite all the focus on business metrics, there’s an underlying current of genuine mutual support.
When someone posts about getting their first sale, people celebrate. And when an author shares that they hit $50 in monthly revenue for the first time, the congratulations feel genuine. When someone’s advertising campaign fails spectacularly, the advice in the comments is constructive rather than dismissive.
There’s a shared understanding that everyone is fighting the same war against obscurity, and individual battles don’t diminish anyone else’s chances of success.
It reminds me of the difference between writing workshops and entrepreneur meetups. Both serve their purpose, but the energy is completely different. Writing workshops are about craft and possibility; entrepreneur meetups are about execution and accountability.
But Does It Actually Help Sell Books?
So would participating in r/selfpublish actually move the needle on book sales?
More than r/writing, that’s for sure. But still probably not in the direct way you might expect.
The promotional opportunities seem limited–this community has the same antibodies against self-promotion that most Reddit communities develop. But the real value appears to be in market intelligence. Reading through r/selfpublish for just a couple of days has taught me a few new things about the current state of indie publishing.
The business-focused discussions suggest this community could be a good source of market intelligence, though I’d need more time to evaluate how actionable the advice really is.
I can see how this community could provide early warnings about platform changes. The business-focused discussions suggest people share detailed analysis when things affect their income.
Serving as a Reality Check
The community also seems like it could serve as a reality check for publishing strategy. If I were to post about my AI collaboration approach in my Lost Pages series, for example, I suspect the responses would be different from what I’d expect in r/writing. Instead of philosophical objections, I’d hopefully get practical questions: How does this affect your production timeline? What’s your disclosure strategy? Have you tested reader acceptance in your target market?
These are the kinds of questions that could help me think like a publisher rather than just a writer.
Based on what I’ve observed, someone might even point out that my transparency about AI collaboration could be a marketing advantage in the right market segment–readers interested in innovation and technology integration. They might suggest targeting book bloggers who cover publishing industry trends, not just historical fiction reviewers.
That would be actionable intelligence.
But let me be honest about what I’m seeing as potential limitations. R/selfpublish looks like it could become its own kind of circle jerk, just with spreadsheets instead of craft discussions.
There’s a tendency toward optimization obsession–people spending more time tweaking their Amazon keywords than writing their next book. Endless discussions about cover design trends that might influence purchase decisions by 0.2%. Anxiety-inducing focus on algorithm changes that are mostly outside your control anyway.
I can see how authors might get so wrapped up in the mechanics of self-publishing that they forget the fundamentals: write good books, write them consistently, find your readers.
Sometimes the community seems to reward busywork that feels productive but doesn’t actually move you closer to your goals.
Conclusion and Bottom Line…
After a few days of observation: r/selfpublish would be most valuable if approached it like a professional development resource rather than a community.
Go there to learn, not to socialize. Read the success stories for market intelligence, not inspiration. Pay attention to the failure analyses for strategic insights, not emotional support.
Use it as a complement to actual publishing work, not a substitute for it.
Spend an hour lurking in r/selfpublish and you might come away with actionable business intelligence. Spend an hour in r/writing and you’ll feel more connected to the craft but not necessarily better equipped to succeed in the marketplace.
Both have their place, but r/selfpublish might earn a visit in my once a week routine because it could make me a better indie publisher, even if it doesn’t make me a better writer.
The bottom line: If you’re serious about building a sustainable author business, r/selfpublish probably belongs in your educational toolkit. Not because it’ll magically solve your marketing problems, but because it might help you avoid the most common and expensive mistakes.
Plus, there’s something oddly comforting about seeing other people wrestling with the same challenges you face. Even if a few of them appear to be earning more than you are.
At least so far.
Am I going to start participating actively? Still deciding. Maybe once a week. Maybe less. The learning curve for Reddit participation seems steep, and I’m not sure the return on time investment makes sense for someone at my age and stage in the writing and self-publishing game
But I’ll probably lurk on occasion.
Next up: r/WritingWithAI, where I’m hoping to find people who don’t think I’ve lost my mind completely.
Hey, I’m 77 and I’ve got stories…
Stories about what it’s like to navigate life at this age (spoiler: it’s weird, wonderful, and occasionally terrifying). And stories about collaborating with AI to write books in ways that would have seemed like science fiction when I started putting words on paper. Stories about the daily realities, unexpected surprises, and hard-won wisdom that comes from three-quarters of a century on this planet. If you’re curious about authentic aging, writing innovation, or just enjoy good storytelling from someone who’s been around the block, subscribe to my weekly newsletter “Old Man Still Got Stories.” I promise to make it worth your time.