I ran a book publishing house with my wife Amanda for eight years. I’m proud of The Devastator, which at one time was the sole humor press in America. We grew a full-line press from a Kickstarter for a single anthology that made less than $6,000. When The Devastator ended, Amanda stayed in book publishing and is now a beloved comics editor with an Eisner nomination. We brought together a community of writers and artists who are still friends to this day. Couples formed from our little scene. There is one Devastator Baby (that I’m aware of). Though the press didn’t become our forever business, I have no regrets when it comes to The Devastator.
Okay, that’s a lie. I do have one regret! Sort of? Let’s call it a half regret.
It goes back to the reason we started The Devastator. Amanda and I were young comedy writers who wanted to build a new stage for ourselves and our friends. As such, we published a lot of my writing. Articles, zines, novellas, a licensed and an unlicensed TTRPG. The Devastator had an editorial review board made up of pals, so while I wasn’t just rubber stamping my own stuff per se, I’m sure my position as co-owner of the press and friend to all the editors was somewhat influential in my projects getting greenlit. My passion was writing. I wanted a creative outlet more than anything, a hell of a lot more than the late nights, toil, and drudgery of running an independent small press.
Which leads to my half-regret. I think The Devastator would’ve done better as a business if I wasn’t writing for it.
I love the work I published through The Devastator. (Okay, fine. Most of the work. I wrote an article about Sinistar being a Hitler apologist that feels cringingly relevant for a parody of a 40 year old arcade game.) My experience creating and publishing games through The Devastator, like the Wet Hot American Summer roleplaying game, was formative for what would become my journey into game writing and design. I still think my imagineering parody book is among my best work and it sold pretty well. Even though some of my writing shows its age, I will defend my back catalogue. No regrets on any specific thing I wrote.
However, there was also no shortage of funny comedy writing for us to publish. We had a network of hundreds of writers and artists pitching us and our blind submissions grew every year. What The Devastator needed was more people solely devoted to growing the business. I spent my days crunching numbers, designing social media assets, and editing manuscripts. I spent my afternoons and evenings writing pages of my books and zines. What if I had those afternoons to email more potential advertisers for the magazine? To search the web for the next great comedy voice? To write a half-decent business plan, instead of a half-assed one? To figure out how to crack a book industry that dismisses the entire humor category?
My fantasy was that a reader of The Devastator with an MBA was going to swoop in and say, “I’ll run your business! You just focus on the fun stuff. We’ll grow it together.” That’s what I understand happened for the creators of Penny Arcade when they were a struggling independent. There was a business guy behind the success of National Lampoon magazine and MAD magazine, which we saw as our guiding stars. But it didn’t happen for us. The Devastator needed Amanda and I to make the business our sole focus, but we weren’t business people at heart, as much as I tried to cosplay that role.
All that said, I’m a staunch supporter of self-publishing. “Self-publishing” used to be a dirty term. It implied the artist was rejected by cultural gatekeepers and had to resort to publishing their own work. How times have changed! This is a media ecosystem designed for self-publishing. When I was growing up, it was prohibitively expensive for most people to shoot a movie. Now you can shoot one with the phone in your pocket and upload it to a global distribution platform for free. If you wanted to get your writing into the world without the benefit of a newspaper or magazine, you were probably photocopying and stapling a zine. You could launch a website, but if Yahoo! didn’t list your site, you effectively didn’t exist. (đś Yah-hooooooo!) Now you can make zines, which are awesome, but you could also start an email newsletter and potentially reach a global audience… on a platform that supports nazis. But still! If you have a great idea, it’s never been cheaper and easier to write that book, film that movie, or program that game. There are ways to distribute what you make for free with the potential to reach many, many people.
Of course, it’s way easier to make a living if a corporation is paying for your health insurance while you make your art. I wish the current market wasn’t so hostile to professional artists who want a regular 9-5 and don’t want to be influencer-preneurs. Self-publishing is like starting a micro-business where you make your own product. It’s not for everybody, but I love supporting independent artists through Patreon, zine fests, Kickstarters, and commissions. I hope you do, too!
The line for me is when you set-up a business to publish yourself and others. I wouldn’t recommend doing both at once. It’s a distraction. There are so many talented artists out there making incredible work. There’s gold in them hills. People make art for fun. Like me! I love making art for fun! Tons of great media around the world has not been exposed to a wider audience for profit. The rarer thing, in my view, is the business person who figures out how to turn art into a profitable, sustainable business for all involved. That’s the ideal publisher. Someone who pours their passion and creativity into an artist-friendly business model, as opposed to their own YA novel. (Like me! That’s what I did, lol.)
One model is currently dominant. Pay artists pennies to make slop videos to hack people’s attention. I want to see more alternative publishing strategies in the world. We subscribe to Dropout and The Onion, so we put our money where our mouths are. (Not literally. Paper money is gross.)
Of course, Dropout’s CEO is also a game show host on their network, so maybe it’s possible to “publish” yourself and others successfully. I think the more resources you have, the easier it is to buy the time necessary to do both successfully. The Devastator was as bootstrappy as you can get, but if your business makes millions, I suppose you can hire a CFO and accountants to handle the boring stuff, so you can be the company’s top creative.
The model that makes most sense to me for a self-publishing business is what I call The Band Model. In a band, a group of musicians come together to make an album, which is either a shared vision or the vision of a band leader. If the band is lucky and savvy, the album is a hit online and they develop a following! The band employs many creative and business people to support the vision as they tour and make more albums. This model is applicable to games, movies, comics, and lots of other stuff.
If your goal as an artist is to make money in the spotlight, especially as a creator with minimal resources, I recommend building your own spotlight, then making it brighter. Do you really want to start a spotlight company?
đ˛ Your Turn: Do you self-publish? What do you put out into the world? Share your links! Have you published other people’s work? What’s your experience been like as a publisher? I found it to be difficult and costly. Are you better at it than I was? I’d love to hear from you. Reply directly to this email or hit the orange button below to leave a comment.



10 responses to “Self-Publishing vs. Publishing Yourself”
IMO: The success was that it was our community and we cared for it deeply. That said, the highs were super intoxicating and life-affirming and the lows were debilitating and demoralizing. Being an editor at a bigger publisher is like living in the middle zone. Sure, there are cycles of excitement and panic, but it’s blunted by nature of working in an institution. I love developing authors and launching books, because I enjoyed it at The Devastator, too. The biggest difference for me is The Devastator created space to experiment and use my voice in fun ways, and I’ve been struggling to prioritize my own stuff ever since.
> the highs were super intoxicating and life-affirming and the lows were debilitating and demoralizing
I agree. Though it was a coincidence that “The Devastator” was also a rollercoaster on Mr. Show, those eight years sure felt like riding one.
Let me know if I can help you prioritize your own stuff. I love your voice, as do so many others, and expressing it is good for your soul. đ
Devastator still brings fond memories of being involved with something full of indie passion and grit to deliver hilarity. That Imagineering parody one is also still one of my faves.
While not quite a quarterly publication, Iâve taken a step back into physical media by making my own newspaper. (Send me an address and Iâd love to mail ya one!)
I absolutely agree about the need for the business focused part. I donât mind having to wear a few different creative hats, but I donât want to have to grow an entire new head. Finding that right partner though sounds oh so tricky.
Iâm still slowly making comics and preparing to pitch but will self publish in print regardless of reception. So much of what I enjoy creating comes from the tactile, and until brains can be reliably uploaded to the cloud, Iâll enjoy the effort to make pages human hands can turn.
It was an honor having you as a Devastator contributor. And of course, I’d love to read your newspaper! I sent you our current address.
For clarity’s sake, I don’t think every artist needs to focus on business. Only the ones who want to make a living from their art. It’s hard to make enough money in this competitive art market without considering things like budget and marketing.
Glad to hear you’re still making comics and keeping your distribution options open!
When I was younger, in my undergrad days, I was essentially the driving force behind a student collective of comic creators. There were many talented artists in my orbit, but none of them really had the drive to do the work behind publishing (self-publishing). I was proud of the little collaborative zines we brought to Fluke! zine/comics fest each year that featured a small comic from each member. The experience of getting submissions was like pulling teeth. In retrospect, I suppose I was the only member of this little club who truly believed in their own future making comics. Finding willing collaborators on such endeavors back then was difficult for something that took so much effort in a society that now so gleefully disrespects creators.
I’ve also been playing in a band since those days (10 years this month! can you believe it?) I love Sacred Bull and playing music with the guys in it. They are some of the most talented dudes in the world, and that still doesn’t seem to matter in the financial sense. Sure, we have fans, but the level of success required for any of us to take ANY money home individually (let alone make a damn living) is essentially impossible. All of us spend pretty much all the free time we have making art of various kinds: ttrpgs, oil paintings, digital music, and beyond. We do it because we have to. Psychologically we have no choice. It’s who we are, but even when combining forces in the “band model” for so long going on our 5th album release next year, the prospect of actually making a living- we’ve essentially given up on.
I still have creative aspirations for financial success. I’ve been doing crowdfunding campaigns under the name Wilderwhim the last few years during Zine month that have brought in a little bit of money. Nowhere near the level of success required to even consider ending the day job, but those campaigns are more successful in the traditional sense than anything else I’ve done. The issue is all of it is entirely a solo effort, and it’s burned me TF out. I can’t keep doing them yearly on top of my 9-5 and keeping up with Sacred Bull (&being a husband, & having home TTRPG games &&&&&&). I’ve clocked myself saying “blood from a stone” too many times recently. Strangely enough – 10 years into Sacred Bull, and 10 years out of college, I find myself considering comics again. I tried doing a webcomic some years ago, but it was essentially killed by the workload at my 9-5 when COVID first rocked the world. I’m going to try doing this next project just for me and turn my sights elsewhere for money, because it’s starting to feel like I don’t have what it takes (luck, relentless drive, affability, what have you) to be successful in the contemporary age. I’ll just do my best to silence the voice in my head that demands I be a “success”.
I’m unburdened by the 9 to 5 grind, but after paying rent, buying groceries, and keeping the debt collectors off my back, it doesn’t leave much of my SSDI to spare for investing in materials and equipment for my creative pursuits, and being blind renders a lot of digital creation options inaccessible. Doesn’t help that I’m sharing a cramped, 3-bedroom trailer with two others and don’t even have the benefit of a kitchen table to use as an improvised workbench.
Modern society really does seem hostile to creatives.
The grass is always greener, but I see other countries like Canada offering generous arts grants and universal health care and Iâm like, âWow, it doesnât have to be so dire for artists, huh?â
I like that you put âsuccessâ in quotes, because what is success? In my opinion, itâs how you define it. I imagine most bands last for less than a year. Youâve stayed together for 10! It sounds like youâve made multiple successful Zine Quest Kickstarters, which also puts you in rarified air. Iâm glad youâre proud of your work, because it sounds like you have much to be proud of.
Is making a full-time living from your art success? What if you make a full-time living from your work and you hate it? That itâs a grind that makes the art unfun? Or that all the business work you have to do takes over your day and you donât have time for the work? Would that still be âsuccess?â
I think we need to define success for ourselves before we work on creative projects. And if what weâre trying to build is an arts business, we need to be realistic with ourselves that most businesses fail commercially. If thatâs the yard stick, weâll almost always feel like we canât measure up.
I always felt The Devastator was brilliant, and it’s really interesting to hear your perspective on all of this, Geoffrey.
Thank you, Michael. You were always there for us in our strange journey. Congrats on maintaining Bystander for so many issues now!