Taking Control of My Writing Career
One of my greatest joys is creating stories that immerse readers in other worlds, filled with magic, love, and the trials that come with both. But as any author knows, storytelling is only one part of the equation. Sharing those stories, connecting with readers, and building a sustainable career are just as important—and challenging. Over the years, I’ve tried countless platforms for publishing and promotion, from social media giants to niche creator hubs. Yet, I found myself growing disillusioned with them.
I got this idea while talking to one of my friends about fanfiction and how I used to prowl through the internet to find stories and the people who wrote them. When I found a website for a fanfic writer, it always felt like I had hit the jackpot because all their work was right there for my greedy eyes to consume.
After that conversation, I asked myself why I wasn’t doing something like that. I looked at the various platforms I’d been trying to make work and felt pretty indifferent about the results. The idea of hosting it myself felt so daunting that I pushed it out of my mind for the moment, but the thought didn’t go away. It gnawed at me and picked at my brain until I finally popped the hood on my website to see what I could do—or what could be done.
After five days of fiddling, adjusting, and overhauling (sorry, Amy >.>), I found myself looking at something that made me say, This could work.
At this point, you’re already seeing the results of all that work. So, I want to touch on the big reasons why I made this choice.
Breaking Free From the Algorithm
If you’ve ever used a social media platform or third-party site to promote your work, you know the dance: craft a post, hit publish, and hope the algorithm decides to show it to people. For creators, these platforms often feel like slot machines. Sometimes your content is served up to thousands of people; other times, it vanishes into the void. Why? Because the algorithms aren’t built to help you. They’re built to serve the platform’s bottom line.
Marketing on social media is a pay-to-play game without the sexy payout. Want your post to be seen? Boost it with an ad. Trying to spread the word about a new book release? It will cost you 10 dollars a day for maybe 100 people to see and ignore an ad. On creator-focused platforms, the algorithms may prioritize popular creators or those who align with the site’s internal goals, leaving others in the shadows. Even worse, these systems change constantly. Strategies that worked last month might not work tomorrow. It’s exhausting, unpredictable, and, for many of us, unsustainable.
The TOS Tightrope
Another harsh reality of third-party platforms is that you’re always at the mercy of their fluid terms of service (TOS). These are the fine-print rules dictating what you can and can’t do with your account or your content. Violating the TOS—even unintentionally—can lead to warnings, demonetization, or outright bans. Even if you stay within the lines, policies can change overnight, often without notice, leaving creators scrambling to adapt. In some cases, the intention of the TOS will be twisted so the company is right and you are wrong.
And let’s not forget ownership. Many platforms retain certain rights to your work, especially when it’s hosted on their servers. Even if they don’t technically own your content, they might use it for marketing or analytics, profiting from your labor without offering you a dime in return. I paid thosands of dollars to product my own audiobook only for Audible to tell me to shut up and sit in the corner while they got to decide my price and put my product on sale without warning or compensation.
Phased Out Publishing Programs
I’ve watched a few of my friends pour countless hours into creating and publishing their work on platforms like Vella, only to have all their hard work rendered futile when the platform was retired. It was heartbreaking to see their dedication, creativity, and time—some of the most valuable resources for any creator—essentially vanish into thin air. One day, they were building their audience, finding joy in their craft, and the next, the platform announced it was shutting down, leaving them scrambling to figure out what to do next. Vella is just one example, but there have been countless platforms over the years that creators have poured their hearts into, betting everything on the promise of stability and opportunity, only to watch it all go poof.
This isn’t just a cautionary tale about diversifying your income streams or being wary of new ventures—it’s a glaring reminder of how little control creators often have when they entrust their work to someone else’s system. Platforms like these often seem promising at first, offering exposure, monetization options, and a way to connect with an audience. But when these platforms fail, whether due to mismanagement, shifting market trends, or other reasons, it’s the creators who pay the price. Their hard work, which might have taken months or years to produce, is suddenly inaccessible or no longer relevant. The emotional toll of seeing your dreams dashed in this way is immeasurable, and it’s a risk many creators face daily when they rely solely on third-party services to house their work.
The Cost-Cutting Conundrum
In recent years, it’s become clear that many platforms view creators as little more than content farms. They rely on us to generate material that keeps users engaged while cutting costs in ways that harm creators. Whether it’s slashing payout rates, increasing fees, or introducing new monetization schemes that favor the platform over the creator, the message is clear: their profit margin matters more than your livelihood or the work you pour your heart and soul into.
For example, some platforms have implemented algorithms that actively push creators toward producing specific types of content that are more “marketable,” even if it’s not what those creators are passionate about. Others have introduced ad systems where creators receive no compensation, despite ads running alongside their work. It’s an uphill battle, and many creators have found themselves burned out and frustrated by the lack of control.
Taking the Leap
After years of navigating these challenges, I realized something: the only way to regain control was to take ownership of my work and my audience. That meant building a space where I set the rules, determined what to share, and decided how to engage with my readers. That space is my own website.
With my site, I don’t have to worry about algorithms hiding my posts or TOS changes upending my plans. I can design the experience exactly how I want it, from the layout to the content delivery. It’s liberating to know that every subscriber to my newsletter, every reader who visits my blog, and every person who supports my work is connecting with me directly—not through a third-party intermediary.
The Challenges of Going Independent
Of course, running your own website isn’t without its challenges. It requires time, money, and technical know-how. I’ve had to learn about hosting, design, SEO, and CSS code, what website plug-ins do what—stuff I never imagined needing as an author. There’s no built-in audience; every visitor is someone I’ve attracted through my own efforts (I see you, thanks for popping by!). And yes, there’s always the risk that it won’t work. But to me, the potential rewards far outweigh the risks.
Writing for Myself, Not the System
At the end of the day, my decision to move everything onto my own site comes down to this: I want to write stories I love, for readers who love them. I don’t want to chase trends dictated by an algorithm or create content designed to game a system. I want to build meaningful connections with my audience, share my work on my terms, and grow as an author in a way that feels authentic.
This journey is a new chapter in my career. It may not unfold perfectly, and there will undoubtedly be lessons learned along the way. But I’d rather try it and see what happens than spend another year stuck in a system that doesn’t serve me.
What if you fail?
I may. I may not. It’s hard to say. Failure isn’t something I shy away from–hours on hours of Super Mario Brothers taught me failing was a lesson in being better. If this doesn’t workout, I’ll get some insight to learn from and share with others.
To you reading this: thank you for joining me on this adventure. Whether you’ve been with me from the start or are discovering my work for the first time, I’m grateful for your support and presence.
Here’s to the stories we love and the courage to tell them our way.
