Crowdfunding Novels: Connecting Authors and Audiences

Crowdfunded models offer a new and growing method of publishing for authors looking for a third option that does not rely on a traditional publisher and does not involve the risk of (and carries less stigma than) simply self-publishing. Online crowdfunding campaigns are nothing new–for example, YouTube and podcast creators often use Patreon accounts where followers who enjoy their content can donate small amounts per month in exchange for bonus content, to help ensure continued content, or simply as a tip. However, this has been slow to catch on in the book world, especially with longer-form writing such as novels, and publishing a novel through alternative means that do not involve a gatekeeper to ensure quality content carries more stigma than does self-publishing visual and auditory media.  

Several platforms are changing this. Authors can crowdfund books in ways that range from bare-bones (using Kickstarter or Indiegogo to host their own campaigns, with no outside company contributing to publication, and then self-publishing), to platforms that function essentially like a vanity press (where pledges and preorders take the place of a cheque from the author paying for publication), to partnerships with publishers who also aid in promotion and distribution after the project has been successfully crowdfunded.

At its best, crowdfunding allows an audience to have direct contact with the creator without a corporate third party acting as a barrier, and to be involved to whatever capacity the author or platform allows in the book’s creation. It allows authors who would rather bypass traditional publishing, with its emphasis on a small number of blockbuster novels, to focus on communicating with a smaller but dedicated audience. This idea is not a new one, as through history, most famously in the Renaissance, artists have relied on patrons (usually people with financial, political, or religious power) to support them rather than releasing their work through a third party and relying on income from sales. Later, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, subscription models where novels were published piece by piece in periodicals were common; while not strictly crowdfunding, this did mean that the author was producing ongoing work for an active list of subscribers. Communication technology today allows creators to combine these two methods–rather than one rich patron, artists are supported by a community of people who believe in the value of their work.

Unbound, one of the most successful crowdfunding platforms, allows authors to pitch their ideas first to the site’s editors and then to readers, who pledge support to the projects that appeal to them. I enough money is raised, the author will finish the project, after which Unbound completes the book’s design, editing, and production.  Because of their partnership with Penguin Random House, Unbound is able to distribute books in stores throughout the UK. Authors then receive 50% of the royalties from book sales. Unlike many crowdfunding platforms, Unbound still acts as a gatekeeper for authors’ submissions, but without the support of the Unbound community, a project will not succeed. Dan Kieran, co-founder and CEO of Unbound, says that Unbound’s “users love to be involved in the process and have critical taste. They are not passive consumers–they’re micro-patrons” and that once an author has an established base backing them, “it’s an easy market to tap into.” The platforms Publaunch, which is still in beta mode, and Inkshares, which has so far completed 61 projects, accomplish essentially the same thing as Unbound, though without the initial editorial screening–any book that reaches its funding threshold will be published–and without any partnerships with traditional publishers.

Gillian Rudd of the University of Liverpool writes that Unbound and similar platforms can act as alternatives to “the hegemony of the literary prize panel and traditional publishing houses.” She also sees Unbound’s requirement for a project to be approved by editors prior to the Unbound community as a feature that could lead to the same homogenization she criticises the industry for, but ultimately is hopeful that crowdfunding platforms can shake up the publishing world. She believes they have potential to provide original alternatives to novels from traditional publishers–which are often chosen based solely on their bestseller potential rather than originality or quality–or to more “highbrow” literary prize lists such as the Booker Prize, which she feels has become repetitive and monotonous in recent years with few diverse voices. Rather than deciding to publish a book based on its perceived sellability, crowdfunding requires an audience to confirm a book as sellable prior to production, and since hosting a funding campaign is less risky than paying for a print run, it allows more room for diversity and experimentation. As Ethan Mollick writes, “the unique value of crowdfunding is not money, it’s community”–he sees  platforms that result in collaboration as helpful beyond simply their funding results, as they require movement away from an “expert-based process” and toward a model where diversity is an important facet of innovation. Having a climate where more people can pitch an idea and potentially be heard results in more ideas, as well as ideas continuing to build upon each other and not stagnating in isolation.

In many ways this model benefits both readers and authors, but drawbacks exist as well and crowdfunding is far from a magical or easy solution. Especially when using crowdfunding sites such as Kickstarter, with no book-specific platform and third party to oversee the process, lack of contractual obligations and less structure than in traditional publishing mean that many crowdfunding projects never get off the ground. They can dwindle away from lack of interest or the author’s lack of diligence even after followers have donated their money. Even for projects that are completed, because readers can’t flip through the book before contributing money or read reviews from previous readers, they have less assurance that they will enjoy what they pay for.

From the author’s perspective, crowdfunding can be complicated too. Depending on the platform they choose, they may have to take over many of the jobs that publishers would traditionally take care of and either pay to outsource labour such as design and marketing to professionals or put in that work themselves. As well, there is some risk involved in hosting a crowdfunding campaign, if not in monetary cost (since there is no corporation to take care of any unforeseen expenses), then in time and cost to the author’s reputation if the campaign fails. Some authors, such as Josh Fruhlinger, have found that crowdfunding results in unexpected pressure during the creative process and that the high expectations of those who contributed money can be daunting.

Overall, the increase of crowdfunding publishing platforms highlights the ability of–in this case, the need for–print and digital media to exist side by side and to complement each other, rather than detract from each other. In order to successfully crowdfund a book, an author nearly always requires a pre-existing audience who enjoys their work and is willing to support them, a major reason why crowdfunding has been successful with content that is usually released in smaller, periodic bites such as podcasts or Youtube videos. Rather than detracting from print and polarizing the two media, online platforms offer more options for authors who are disillusioned with traditional publishing and the difficulty (and amount of luck necessary) in securing a book deal–and the more experience and success they have had creating an online community and connecting with potential readers digitally, the more likely their print work is to succeed.

Dan Kieran of Unbound believes that Unbound reaches “a very specific part of the author’s audience.” This results in a model that does not necessarily encroach on traditional publishing’s domain, but provides a new framework that traditional publishers are becoming interested in as well. If so, we could continue to see the lines between traditional corporate publishing and self-publishing relying on self-promotion blur in the future (for instance, with platforms like Swoonreads, which does not crowdfund but allows readers to provide input about which projects Macmillan should publish). In the meantime, as traditional publishers continue to pour their effort into a few hopeful bestsellers and creators continue to interact with a variety of media and platforms rather than simply print, crowdfunding books offers a new method for authors to connect their material to audiences, especially if they are willing to put time and energy into establishing a faithful audience and marketing themselves and their work.

Pulp’s Big Moment

In The New Yorker’s “Pulp’s Big Moment” (January 5, 2015), Louis Menand traces the history of the pulp paperback and describes how its explosive entrance into the book market in the 1930s and 1940s changed the landscape of publishing. Prior to 1935, when Allen Lane launched Penguin paperbacks in the UK, books were sold primarily in bookstores (which were limited to urban areas) and through slow methods that required planning and intention on the part of the consumer, such as catalogues and book clubs. For the most part, books were seen as a “highbrow,” intellectual medium, targeted at consumers with a certain level of education and financial resources.

When cheap paperbacks hit the market in Britain in 1935 and four years later in America with Robert de Graff’s Pocket Books–the country’s first line of mass-market paperbacks–the market shifted dramatically. Suddenly, paperback books were accessible in both price and location. They were sold for pocket change in railway stations, drug and grocery stores, newsstands, and any other retail space that could fit a rack of small paperbacks.

Menand writes that once paperbacks flooded the market, “books were not like, say, classical music, a sophisticated pleasure for a coterie audience. Books were like ice cream; they were for everyone. Human beings like stories. In the years before television, mass-market paperbacks met this basic need” (Menand, 2015). These stories were not intended to promote moral messages or academic discussions–they were written and marketed purely for pleasure and to sell as many copies to as many people as possible. Often, this involved content that would be unacceptable in traditional literature. Although this was not a wholly new phenomenon (for instance, penny dreadfuls in the nineteenth century also capitalized on the scandalous and lurid and claimed little moral value), it was the first time “pulp” was produced and marketed in such mass quantities.

At the same time, novels such as The Catcher in the Rye and The Great Gatsby–as well as older, established classics such as Shakespeare–were packaged to look like pulp novels and sold at similar prices, blurring the lines between “highbrow” and “lowbrow” reading. Although the market was eventually oversaturated with cheap paperbacks and companies such as Pocket Books failed to make large profits because their books were sold so cheaply, the tidal wave of pulp fiction had altered the way books were approached and sold. Books written for pleasure and created for the masses were now commonplace, and even books considered classics or originally intended to educate for were marketed to appeal to the casual reader looking for entertainment.

As well, these novels were not held to the same standard of morality that “serious” literature was–so that along with content meant purely to sensationalize, some novels were able to tell stories that would otherwise not be told, for instance of interracial or same-sex relationships. Although social change was not the intent of people like Robert de Graff, whose goal was to sell as many books as possible, according to Menand, pulp paperbacks were “market disrupters. They put pressure on the hardcover houses, and that meant putting pressure, in turn, on the legal regulation of print” (Menand, 2015). Eventually, reading for pleasure became mainstream enough that hardcover publishers could reclaim the practice as their own–the public had proved that there was a market for less censored, less intentionally constructive and moral reading material, and content that was previously seen as taboo was now legitimized.

One of the things that interested me most about Menand’s article is how the rise of the cheap paperback foreshadows in some ways what is happening now in the realm of ebooks and online publishing. Like the pulp market during its golden age, we are increasingly saturated in mass and digital media. Though the Internet has provided a platform for authors and other creators who otherwise might not have been able to pass through traditional gatekeepers such as publishing houses, the sheer amount of information and media “noise” set in front of consumers makes it difficult to differentiate one’s self from the mass of other voices. Often, both mass market novels and online content were or are offered for rock-bottom prices compared to the forms of media that preceded them. Ultimately, although mass market paperbacks are far from dead, pulp fiction ceased to be the omnipresent force that it was in the mid-20th century after the market was oversaturated with cheap novels–how can online publishing avoid this while still remaining accessible?

In addition, self-published ebooks and online publishing platforms are raising similar questions that consumers, critics, and publishers of pulp novels faced, regarding what qualifies as “legitimate” art. For example, fanfiction (as well as fan art and other fan work) is one example of a genre that has exploded in popularity in the last two decades because of easy digital distribution, even though like pulp novels, it is dismissed by critics and rarely seen as a valid form of writing. Fanfiction is not only read but also written purely for enjoyment, and is easily accessible to anyone with an internet connection. The internet has already changed the landscape of the publishing industry and continues to do so in ways that parallel Menand’s summary of the pulp paperback industry of the 20th century–cheap or free readily available content, blurring the lines between traditional, acceptable and “lowbrow” art, and a potential for oversaturation of the market.


Menand, Louis. “Pulp’s Big Moment,” The New Yorker, January 5, 2015. Retrieved from

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