Coffee’s cold again. Third cup today and I still haven’t finished researching top self publishing companies options for my mystery novel. My desk is buried under printouts of pricing packages, scribbled notes from author forums, and half a dozen browser tabs comparing services.

I remember when getting published meant one thing: landing an agent who’d champion your manuscript to the big houses in New York. Twenty years and four traditionally published books later, I jumped ship to self-publishing. Never looked back, though Lord knows I’ve made every rookie mistake in the book.