What is Assisted Self-Publishing?

You have a story to tell. You have a publishing dream. You have a stapled stack of pages you’d like to see turned into a book. Everyone looking at this post is at a different point in their own creative journey, and some of you are aiming toward publication, like I was just a few years ago. Then, through a series of events that can only be considered fateful, I found Ouroborus Book Services, an assisted self-publisher. For me, this partnership was perfect, and now I get to sign my books at stores and call myself an author – the dream! But for those playing at home, tapping away at keys on your own first manuscript,  you’re certainly forgiven for asking: what is assisted self-publishing?Girl in spectacles studying in library

Assisted self-publishing is exactly what it sounds like: publishing by yourself, but with help. For the last century, the art and business of book publishing has been dominated by big publishing houses, whose expertise in guiding manuscripts from authors’ hands through the many processes of editing, proofreading, formatting, printing, binding, marketing and distributing has been unmatched. There was no way to get your book out there except to send your pages off to a commissioning editor and joining the slush pile, and if you were lucky enough that your book was ‘picked up’, all creative control was with the publisher, who in this model is, after all, the one shelling out the dollar bills for the project. And make no mistake, there are a lot of dollars to be paid, to all those talented and skilled people employed by the publishing house to handle the different tasks in the production chain to make massive print runs of quality product. Then, slowly, on the tides of numerous industry and social changes, self-publishing became viable again – self-funding writers taking a chance on themselves, teaching themselves the necessary skills and processes, taking advantage of technologies and platforms as they came available to get their works out into the world. Naturally, these early amateur efforts lacked the finesse and craftsmanship of traditionally published books, but the gap is fast closing, and today’s independent books can be indistinguishable from their big house competitors. Minimising print runs and cutting all those people out of the production chain lowers costs significantly, and many big authors either began their careers in self-publishing, or, as is emerging, are moving back to it for the creative control it lends and the complete financial independence. Because if you’re the one doing all the work and putting forward all the capital? You reap the profits.

Open flying old booksBut as you can imagine when you take on the work of a whole chain of professionals, self-publishing is a lot to do, a lot to learn and a heck of a lot to manage. As attractive an option as self-publishing is becoming, balancing the steep learning curve and administrative stuff with the author’s actual job of, you know, writing, is both off-putting and, at the very least, a big drain on your time.

That is the niche that assisted self-publishing is filling for thousands of authors. Maybe you want the creative control to choose your own cover but can’t design, don’t know any graphic artists and wouldn’t have the first clue how to format an image into a cover for book-printing software, or perhaps you’ve got a drawer of rejection letters and now you’re willing to take a chance on yourself where big publishers won’t. Assisted self-publishers either employ or network with freelancers to complete all those jobs in the chain, reducing some of the pressure from authors who can’t be expected to know all the processes in this whole industry.

images (2)Assisted self-publishing worked for me, but I’m a single case study, and I can’t speak for your circumstances. For me – an unpublished young female with a fantasy manuscript, probably the least attractive query publishers can possibly receive – it allowed me to circumvent the gatekeeping of traditional publishing that says “we’ve got enough of those”, “we’re not publishing in that genre at the moment” or “we don’t publish new authors, sorry.” It also enabled me to produce a quality, professional product that can compete with mainstream fiction, which was more important to me than simply “getting the work out there.” I certainly didn’t have the skills to do that on my own, so it made the most sense for me to hire some experts and work with them. If self-publishing is your chosen path and you’re feeling overwhelmed just wondering where to even start, assisted self-publishing may be for you.

As with all investments, do your research and shop around. A professional service should be able to be transparent with you about what they do and where the costs will arise. Go with your gut and your bank account, and DON’T RUSH – your book has waited this long to be born, it’ll keep another minute while you really crunch the facts and figures to decide what’s right for you.


by Shayla Morgansen


Published in: on August 27, 2017 at 4:02 am  Leave a Comment  
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New Release – Colours Within

Battles of Azriel Book 2 front TEXT.jpg

Danica Peck’s newest title, Colours Within, is book 2 in her Battles of Azriel series. Here’s a sneak peek. Available on Amazon, Book Depository, and at other good book retailers. Signed copies are also available at our shop.


Arya’s History

I was born as Arya Faith DeValentino and like every teenager, I went through a phase of not liking my name and was known as only Faith. This was timed perfectly as a supernatural war was just beginning. During this time, I made many enemies and ultimately, they came after me and my family. Most couldn’t find us because of my change of name, but that was many moons ago.

I was born in 1905 and stopped aging at the age of sixteen. Yes, that is correct, eternity as a teenager. I’m lucky it was after the bad skin and the awkward looks stage of adolescence. I am the first of my species to be born. The rest of my siblings were made, from humans, into my father’s species – Nagual. I am a hybrid; my Mother was a Minx and my Father the Nagual.

What’s a Nagual? In less fancy terms, we were just shape shifters: and we turned into jaguars. We had basic magic that was connected to the Earth and when turned, a black cat mark appeared on our wrists.

And a Minx? They were just elves, well kind of. History says that an Elf and a Siren bore a child, which is how the first Minx was created. And that’s what I am, a Minx with all the power qualities of a Nagual.

I may not be human, but I have made mistakes. I was an Elf with human regrets, an immortal with a mortal soul. My mistakes would haunt me till the end of days. I’ve watched my brother die. I’ve watched my fiancé die.

What do you do when, in your world, you can’t die from old age? The only death in our world is murder.

What did I do? I let magic and revenge consume me.

I wished for a mortal life.


Vila 1984

It was a surprisingly cold night for November. Perhaps it was the storm, which often brought the cold winds. The water that fell from the sky was like ice, but I didn’t flinch. Perhaps my skin was now used to it, for it had been hours since I was standing in the rain in this run-down town.

Before the rain, before me, this town had been full of life. Now there were only the memories of pain and death. I looked over the destruction I had caused, but no emotion ran through me, no guilt or pain. Around me, the buildings that had been left standing began to sink deeper into the earth as the flames stole their last bit of strength. The wind carried the screams of the deceased, their blood stained the ground upon which I stood, despite the rains’ best effort to wash it away.

As the remains of a building crashed into the wet dirt with a small cry, I turned my attention to it, as though expecting someone to emerge from the rubble.

My olive skin had a slight glow from the remaining flames, though most of my skin was hidden by the crimson essence of the departed. My skin revealed no wounds, even with the amount of blood that covered me it was hard to believe. Not even the rain could remove my sins. Tainted, red rain fell upon my lips but I didn’t feel sickened by the rusted coin taste that found its way upon my tongue. My midnight hair fell past my elbows, sticking to my skin like a spider web. My onyx eyes glanced up at the moon; tonight was the night. I had waited long enough. I felt intoxicated with power and revenge, and this violated town was the ideal place to end my vendetta.

The cries of people watching someone they loved being murdered, the screams of terror and the ear piecing shrieks of the dying, echoed within my mind. The moon had broken through the clouds and cast its light over me as I waited. I waited for him – the one that had caused my suffering. Tonight it would end.

A twig snapped behind me. I smiled, exposing my feline teeth, as a dark, brooding figure walked towards me. I turned to face him, meeting his gaze. As he closed the space between us I looked him over. His dark brown hair fell around his face, his dark blue eyes shone out from his ghostly pale features.

‘Jedhail,’ I whispered, loathing rising within me. ‘What better place to meet your demise.’

‘Impressive,’ he murmured with his velvety voice. ‘I envy the fame you will receive.’

Hunger filled his eyes as he gazed over my body, still stained with red.

‘I suppose you want to fight?’ His voice had a sense of arrogance as he took a step back. ‘But as my final words, may I tell you a bed time story?’

I went to snap my impatience at Jedhail but he put his hand up to interrupt me.

‘This is the tale of murder and love, the story of your two significant others.’

‘Why would I want your version of killing Rhys and Mikhail?’ I shouted.

‘Ah, that’s why,’ he mused. ‘I didn’t kill Mikhail.’

‘That’s a lie,’ I argued, though my voice wavered with uncertainty.

‘Are you sure?’ he teased.

I thought back to Mikhail’s death. He was right, I wasn’t sure. I never saw his killer’s face, I was too far away. But if Jedhail hadn’t kill Mikhail, who had?

‘The blame goes to me,’ said a soft, sweet voice from behind Jedhail. Elphina, his partner, appeared – she was a spider demon, a rare pureblood demon species of vampires.

Spider demons are evil, full stop. Vampires can be swayed either way and that’s how this power couple happened. Elphina seduced a young innocent-souled vampire, Jedhail, to give up his soul, he then became her own personal slave and puppet. He had no idea that he was just her tool.

‘You?’ I exclaimed in disgust, as Elphina walked towards me.

Blue electrical sparks flew from my fingertips as anger and hatred swelled within me.

‘The amazing Faith,’ Elphina mused as she walked closer to me. ‘Or are you going by Arya again? Either way, Mikhail was luscious, wasn’t he? I wish I had dug my claws in first.’

I threw myself at Elphina, who avoided the attack. I landed in a crouch position, a low growl coming from the back of my throat as rage began to consume me.

‘Aw, baby,’ Elphina mocked. ‘You can’t beat me.’

I smiled through my feline teeth, taking her words as a challenge.

I threw myself at Elphina again. This time she didn’t react at the same speed causing her to almost lose balance. Elphina lashed out at me with her claws, I ducked the attack and spun a kick into her stomach. Elphina doubled over and glared at me as she caught her breath.

With a quick glance, I saw Jedhail circling us like a bird circling its prey.  He had no motive to join the fight, so I put my focus back on the current target. I threw continuous attacks at Elphina, keeping her in the defensive position, not allowing her an opening to attack.

Elphina scrunched up her face in frustration, lashing her claws out against my neck. As I pressed my hand to the wound, Elphina took the opening and punched the side of my face. With the combination of the wet ground and the hit, I lost my footing and landed in the mud.

I quickly brushed off the hit and jumped back to my feet ready to attack again, but Elphina was quicker. She had drawn a titanium blade. She jammed the blade into my stomach so fast, I barely blinked. I was clenching her fist and holding in the urge to scream, falling to my knees. My hands grabbed the hilt of the blade.

Elphina kneeled before me, looking me in the eyes. ‘Recognise the blade? It’s the one I killed your lover with.’

How could one person bleed so much?

That had been the only thought that was going through my head as I had supported Mikhail’s wound. That’s all I could think about now. Elphina pulled on my hair, forcing my head back for our eyes to meet.

‘You know Mikhail begged for his life?’ Elphina snarled.

‘You lie!’ I spat.

‘He screamed,’ Elphina purred. ‘He begged. He was pathetic.’

A low growl rose from my throat. I pulled the blade from my stomach and slashed it across Elphina’s cheek. Throwing my hands forward I conjured a gust of wind which threw Elphina onto her back. I pushed myself to my feet and as Elphina stood up, I plunged the blade into Elphina’s chest. She screamed in agony as I twisted the knife, opening the wound further. She fell to the ground and I watched as her spirit left her body.

Jedhail ran to Elphina’s side as I stumbled backwards away from both of them.

‘Raphael, Angel of Ease,’ I whispered, my strength waning. I was on the verge of collapsing, but Jedhail still lived.

‘Raphael…Angel of …ease, in the divine …name of…Raphael,’ I murmured using all my strength to stay conscious. ‘I consecrate and charge, I ask for healing, from the rain …from the earth. Raphael…Angel of Ease.’ A white light appeared and swirled into my wound.

Jedhail’s cold, dark eyes were shooting daggers as he walked over to me while I was kneeling on the ground supporting my wound. Jedhail back-handed me, causing me to spit blood from my mouth.

‘Kill me,’ I snarled. ‘I dare you.’

Jedhail licked his lips, showing his fangs. His eyes travelled from my neck to my eyes. He kneeled before me, grabbing my chin, forcing me to look at him.

‘No,’ he whispered, and smiled as disappointment flickered in my eyes. ‘How does it feel ma petite, the vengeance? Was all the blood worth it?’

My onyx eyes glanced dangerously at him. ‘I feel nothing.’

Jedhail scoffed.

I winced as I tried to stop the bleeding from my still open wound.

‘Liar – what would Rhys say if he saw what you did here? What would Mikhail say?’

I looked at him, my eyes faded back to blue from black; the magic’s hold on me relinquished, allowing the remorse and pain to all set in.

Jedhail smiled. ‘Feel the pain, taste the blood,’ he whispered coldly in my ear. ‘Being the creature you are, I believe this will haunt you forever.’

Sensing the sunrise, Jedhail walked off leaving me in my despair.




Published in: on August 12, 2017 at 4:44 am  Leave a Comment