Many features differentiate hybrid and legacy publishers. For starters, with the former, authors are paying for a service. Hybrid publishers don’t pay advances; they receive money for services provided. In this way, hybrid publishers are like attorneys, dentists, and massage therapists.
With legacy publishers, the money arrow flows in the opposite direction in the form of advances. Prospective authors need to prepare book proposals, pass an extensive vetting process, and often work with an agent. (Lest I overstate the difference, the line between hybrid and legacy publishers has been blurring for quite some time now.)
Large hybrid publishers tend to be pretty inclusive. The big outfits aren’t terribly selective about their clients, although reputable ones don’t behave like the charlatans do. A successful individual who can cut a big check can, over the course of a year or more, eventually become a published author.
But is their ultimate product—the book—any good?
Despite the considerable fees paid, many times it is not. The book is just an exercise in self-indulgence.
An Example
I’m reminded here of a ghostwriting project from a few years back. The author couldn’t decide what type of book he wanted to write; he just knew that he wanted to write a book. A large hybrid publisher approached me about the project and I signed up for a sub-market, flat-rate fee. I soon regretted it.
For three frustrating months, the individual constantly moved the goal posts. Depending on the day, he wanted to write a memoir, self-help book, part prescriptive non-fiction book, or some amalgamation of the three. Eventually, I wished him the best and walked away.
Your reader only cares about the quality of your text—not how many millions you’ve made.
Eventually, his debut effort did hit the shelves and, from what I can tell, sold maybe 1,000 copies. I found some of its reviews more insightful than the reviewers themselves could possibly know. Note that I’ve anonymized the author.
And from a separate review:
What You Need to Know
It’s only natural for successful folks to want to enshrine their legacies, especially as hit the back nine of their careers. What better way than via a physical manifestation, such as a book?
The mindset is understandable but misplaced. Readers only care about the quality and cohesion of your text—not how many millions you’ve made.
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