One of the great advantages of only publishing five books per year is that I get to be excited about every book.
Once upon a time, an editor could try out one or two wacky books, knowing full well that their list would counterbalance any risk with a stable of best-sellers and safe bets. Nowadays, every book must earn its own bread. With low overheads and an often episodic operating status, the small independent press is nicely placed to snap up the most innovative literature going at the moment. To take the risks. Meaning that small presses are no longer just outfits set up to publish your or your friends' work. They have something genuinely important to offer.
One of the challenges faced by the little press like Little Island Press is as always, tricking people into buying books. I'm told that the next generation will be more interested in "experiences" than in tangible objects like books. That's a pretty big challenge to a publisher of any size.
Like a lot of small press founders I was looking for a way into publishing - as well as a way out of academia. Without moving to London, I couldn't see a way of working for a publishing house whose work I liked. Believe it or not, the simplest way for me to get into publishing was to start my own press.
Despite wanting to work in publishing, I was a publisher's worst nightmare: I rarely bought new books. So my goal was to publish the kind of books I would buy, and read. My reading habits have changed since starting the press. The only other "goal", per say, is to continue to experiment. I don't want the press to ever fall into a formula, or to be pigeonholed - "They do great reissues of modernist poets!" - I want to keep pushing, exploring the kind of title we can get away with. And working with authors who challenge the way I think about writing, editing and reading.
There's a reason that so much good material is coming down to the small presses: it's difficult to turn a profit, all things considered. But you can't go into small press publishing and complain about the money. Our Little Island publishing just needs to survive. If we're still around in a few years - in vaguely the same shape as we are today - then, to me, that's success.
In one sense, you put a lot of yourself into a small press - it's your personal tastes that are on the line - so when criticism is levelled it can feel personal. But, on the other hand, it can be very welcome and necessary. You're never entirely impervious, and one of the main benefits of being a small operation is that you can change the way you do things quickly in response to criticism. In all instances it pays to have a sense of humour and perspective.
