Why Self-Publishing Is Not Vanity ✨

There was once a young man whose stories were rejected again and again for being “too simple, too Indian.”

Publishers said, “Nobody will read this small-town stuff.”

His name was R.K. Narayan. The same man who gave us Malgudi Days, stories now read, loved, and studied across generations.

Then there was a banker who believed in his story when no publisher did. He printed the books himself, carried cartons to stores, and requested shelf space.

That book was The Immortals of Meluha. The author? Amish Tripathi.

The same man who turned Indian mythology into a multi-million-rupee publishing phenomenon.

There is also Arundhati Subramaniam, whose early poetry collections faced rejection because “poetry doesn’t sell.”

She kept writing anyway, quietly, steadfastly, until her voice became one of the most distinctive in Indian literature.

And Karan Bajaj, who wrote spiritual, reflective fiction in a market obsessed with rom-coms and thrillers.

Publishers called it “too niche.” Readers called it brilliant.

And then there’s Rashmi Bansal, who believed the stories of Indian entrepreneurs deserved to be told.

When no publisher saw value in her manuscript, she self-published Stay Hungry Stay Foolish. It sold over half a million copies and built a legacy of its own.

Every one of these writers was told:

“It’s not marketable.”

“It won’t sell.”

“Try something lighter.”

And every one of them kept writing anyway.

Because believing in your book when no one else does isn’t vanity, it’s courage.

Traditional publishing once meant validation.

Now it often means waiting endlessly for an agent’s approval or a marketing team’s blessing.

Self-publishing, on the other hand, means ownership of your story, your time, and your voice.

It means refusing to wait for permission.

Vanity is not publishing your own book.

Your words matter even when someone else says they don't.