Traditional vs Self-Publishing for UK Non-Fiction Authors: Pros and Cons
A clear-eyed comparison of traditional and self-publishing for UK non-fiction authors, covering costs,...
There is probably a shoebox somewhere in your town — in an attic, a record office, or a retired photographer's spare room — that nobody has looked at properly for thirty years. A street that was demolished. A school class from 1954. The last train through the old station. Local history books nearly always begin with material like that, and then run into the same problem: how do you turn a box of photographs and a lifetime of half-remembered detail into a book that shops will stock, libraries will catalogue and readers will actually pay for?
Decide what the book is about before you start collecting. A history of a mill, a market, a railway line or a single street is easier to finish and easier to sell than "the history of the town", which has no natural end.
The working materials are mostly free or cheap. Your local studies library and county record office will hold census returns, trade directories, tithe and enclosure maps, Ordnance Survey maps at various dates, and local newspapers. The National Archives' Discovery catalogue will point you to anything held centrally. The British Newspaper Archive is subscription-based, but many libraries offer free access on their own terminals.
Whatever you find, write down the reference the moment you find it: document number, page, date, and which archive holds it. Reconstructing your sources at proof stage, when one fact suddenly looks doubtful, is far more painful than keeping a log as you go.
The most common delay on a community history project is not writing. It is rights. Photographs are the usual culprit, because owning a print or a negative does not normally mean owning the copyright, which usually sits with the photographer or their estate. Copyright in old photographs can last far longer than people expect, so assume you need permission unless you can establish otherwise.
Record offices and archives are generally helpful, but their turnaround times are measured in weeks rather than days. Start this early, and if the project involves contracts, estate permissions or anything contested, take proper legal advice rather than relying on goodwill.
Local history rarely makes money, but it can usually be made to pay for itself. Work out what you actually need to cover: the print run is often the largest single cost, with editing, design, indexing and map work adding up quietly behind it.
Grant funding exists, from the National Lottery Heritage Fund to council and parish council budgets and small heritage trusts, though competition is real and applications take time. Funders tend to look for public benefit rather than a book as an end in itself: talks, school visits, a free copy to every library and record office, an accessible digital version. Build those into the plan from the beginning.
Pre-orders are the simplest funding method of all. Take a deposit, publish the running total on a noticeboard or a village Facebook group, and you will know your print run before you commit to it. Local businesses will sometimes sponsor a page in return for a modest acknowledgement; keep the offer small and the terms clear. If you are handling grant money, keep it in a separate account and keep straightforward records, because you will be asked to report on it.
You have three realistic routes: a regional publisher, who may take a local title but will rarely pay much for it; partnership publishing; or doing it yourself. For most community projects, self-publishing with a local printer or a print-on-demand service is the practical answer, because you keep control and the margin.
Two things matter commercially. First, an ISBN, bought from Nielsen in the UK. Without one, bookshops and libraries cannot order the book through normal channels. Second, a decision about the print run. Ask two or three printers for quotes at different quantities, because digital printing suits a few hundred copies while offset becomes better value at higher numbers. A run of 300 to 500 is a common starting point for a town or village title, and it is better to reprint than to fill a garage with unsold boxes. Do remember legal deposit: published books must be sent to the British Library and the other legal deposit libraries, so budget for those copies.
Ebooks matter less here than in most genres, but a PDF or a simple website helps readers who cannot get to the launch.
Nobody edits their own book well. Budget for a proofread at the very least, and a line edit if the funds stretch. Check the spelling of every place name and surname, because local readers notice each mistake and will tell you about it.
The features that make a local history book usable years later are unglamorous: an index of people and places, clear maps, a date on every photograph caption, a contents page that makes sense, and a font size that respects older eyes. Print on paper that will stand up to a bit of thumbing. A hardback is not necessary; a well-made paperback usually is.
Your audience is small and reachable. Most of them live within a few miles, and many belong to a society, a church, a school or an online community group you can contact directly. Independent bookshops, museum and heritage site shops, tourist information points and the local studies library are all worth approaching. Local newspapers and radio stations are often short of material and will happily run a piece about a photograph nobody has seen in decades.
Photo: Pexels / Pixabay
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