Predatory Practices in the Publishing Industry

For as long as I can remember, writing has been my way of making sense of the world. It’s how I process my emotions, how I find meaning in chaos, how I feel like I exist.

Like so many writers, I dreamed of holding my book in my hands, seeing it in bookstores, sharing my stories with the world. I thought if I worked hard enough, if I believed in my stories enough, I’d get there.

I never expected that chasing that dream would turn into a nightmare.

I never thought I’d feel like I had been taken advantage of, misled, or made to question if my work even mattered. But it happened more than once. And I want to talk about it; not out of bitterness, not to point fingers, but to make sure that if you're on this path too, you go into it with open eyes.

1. The Too-Good-to-Be-True Offer

I was young, eager, and desperate to be published. I had been sending queries to anyone and everyone, hoping that someone, anyone, would give me a chance.

When one of the publishers I had contacted finally offered me a contract, I felt like the universe had answered my prayers.

They made it sound so easy. No rejections, no endless waiting, just a simple agreement and a fee to “help with costs.”

I was so excited, I ignored the red flags.

If someone asks you to pay to publish your book, stop. Traditional publishers make money from selling books, not charging authors. I had no clue at the time, but this is called a vanity publisher: a company that makes money off you, not readers.

They don’t care about your book, just your wallet. Once they get their fee, you’re usually left with a rushed, low-quality product and zero support.

But I didn’t know that at the time. I thought this was just how it worked. So I paid. And once the contract was signed, the reality set in.

The edits? Rushed and sloppy.

The marketing? Non-existent.

I kept convincing myself it would get better. That I just had to be patient. But then the emails slowed. The updates stopped. And then, they disappeared completely. No royalties, no responses, no explanations.

I felt sick. I had poured so much of myself into this book, this dream, and suddenly it was like it had never existed. I was left with nothing but regret and an expensive lesson.

2. The Illusion of Professionalism

Not all publishing nightmares come from obvious scams. Sometimes, even seemingly legitimate publishers can be a disaster.

One publisher I worked with wasn’t a vanity press. They were a small but real publishing house, expanding internationally, and they scouted me after a friend’s recommendation. At first, everything seemed promising. They were responsive, eager, and professional. Until they weren’t.

The person handling my book —my editor, the only point of contact I had with the publisher and the owner of that branch— was disorganized, constantly missing deadlines, and sometimes straight-up unprofessional. I had to chase him down just to get basic updates.

Once, when I asked about my contract, he replied, ‘Sorry, I’m drunk right now lol.’ Another time, he messaged me completely inappropriately, making comments that crossed every single professional boundary and eventually became sexual harassment.

I ignored it, trying to keep things about the book. I kept convincing myself that it was finally my chance, and that if I pushed through everything would be worth it. Looking back, I wish I had walked away sooner.

Besides the unprofessional attitude, payments were always late. The publisher admitted they were struggling financially, and I eventually learned they were in debt. By the time I got my rights back, I had only received a fraction of what I was owed.

The lesson? Publishers can be unprofessional or unreliable. If communication is a mess early on, it won’t magically improve later. And if a publisher can’t afford to pay you, they shouldn’t be publishing your book.

3. Even Big Platforms Fail Authors

Sometimes, the hardest lessons come from places you least expect.

I had a book posted on an online writing platform, and it was gaining momentum in social media. It was personal, raw, and connected with readers in a way I had never experienced before. Then, an opportunity arrived: an offer by a big agency —a sister company of said writing platform— to sign my rights to them to showcase my work to potential publishers and media partners.

It wasn’t a direct publishing deal, but it felt like the start of something big.

And then, one day, my book was gone from said platform. No warning, no explanation. Readers reached out, asking if I had taken it down. I hadn’t. I contacted support, but all I received were generic responses. Eventually, I learned that it had been automatically flagged for violating vague content policies.

I read and re-read the content policy, again and again. Emailed them with proof and an explanation of why my book didn’t violate any policies; and requested to meet with the agency, and with the platform representatives. I offered to rewrite it, to talk about the topics the book touched on. I wanted an explanation that was never given to me.

The frustrating part? My book wasn’t promoting any type of harmful behavior: it was condemning it.

Someone, somewhere, misunderstood it; and I had no way to challenge it. No appeals, no conversations, just silence. The book was in Spanish, and every point of contact I had was English-speaking. I had never gotten any confirmation at all that someone who understood Spanish even reviewed the story.

I spent months fighting to get my rights back. By the time I did, the damage was done. The book that I had built my audience on and held so much promise was wiped from existence, and most of my audience had left since they couldn’t find it anywhere.

The lesson? Never rely on a single platform to protect your work.

Policies change, mistakes happen, and if you don’t own full control over your stories, they can disappear in an instant. Always keep backups, always read the fine print, and always have a plan in case the worst happens.

What I Wish I Had Known

If you’re a writer with dreams of publishing, please learn from my mistakes:

• Do your research: Google the company. Read reviews. Ask other writers. If there are warning signs, don’t ignore them.

• If you have to pay, walk away: A real traditional publisher invests in you, not the other way around.

• Trust your gut. If something feels off, it probably is.

Final Thoughts

This industry can be brutal. And when you’re passionate about something, when you’ve put your soul into a story, it’s easy to be blinded by hope.

But the people who take advantage of writers know that. They count on it.

I wish I could go back and warn my younger self. I wish I could tell her she was worth more, that her work deserved better. But since I can’t, I’m telling you.

Don’t let anyone make you feel like you have to pay to be an author. Don’t let anyone make you doubt the value of your work. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you have to withstand things that make you feel uncomfortable in order to publish your book.

The right opportunity is out there. The right readers are out there. And you will find them.