Steven LaChance Blog

People ask me why I self publish now, especially since I have been traditionally published and my work has been recognized in places that still surprise me. Some of my books are preserved in major archives. They are studied, referenced, catalogued, quoted and even taught. I earned my place on the shelf, and I am grateful for that. I carry it with pride.

But over time something shifted in me. The work began to matter more than the noise around it. I no longer needed the stamp of approval that comes from someone else’s office or a long meeting in a boardroom. I no longer needed to fight for a seat at a table I had already sat at. What I needed was the freedom to create without compromise.

Traditional publishing has real value, and I am not angry about any part of my experience there. I am grateful for the doors it opened and for the people who believed in my work from the beginning. It gave me opportunities I would not have had otherwise, and I respect that. My choice to self publish now is not a rejection of the past. It is simply a reflection of who I am today and how I work best.

And the truth is, I no longer need the machine to be heard. The media still pays attention. Articles still appear. Interviews still come. The difference now is that I choose which ones I say yes to. I no longer want to spend weeks on book tours or stay up until three in the morning doing radio shows. I have done that part of the journey. I will still speak when I want to, but on my own time. I have earned the right and the means to play the game my way.

The stories I write now come from places that cannot be softened for a committee. They come from lived pain and lived wonder. They come from a lifetime of surviving things people rarely speak about and seeing things many do not believe in. Stories born from that kind of truth cannot be reshaped to fit someone else’s comfort.

Gorilla and Grace are perfect examples. They could not have survived inside a traditional publishing framework. The heart of those books would have been pulled apart until only something safe and predictable remained. Something that satisfied a marketing plan rather than the soul of the story. What we created together would not exist in anyone else’s hands.

Self publishing allows me to honor the story instead of the system. My books may move more slowly this way, but they move honestly. They find the readers who are meant for them. They breathe. They live outside deadlines and politics and the constant pressure to fit a trend. They live on their own terms, which means they live on mine as well.

I am not searching for notoriety. I am not chasing headlines. I have had both. What I need now is space. Space to let the work arrive in its own shape. Space to follow the story instead of the industry. Space to protect the parts of my art that cannot be trimmed or explained away.

At this point in my life the books have become my legacy. They are what I will leave behind when I am gone. And that means they have to remain mine. All mine. Every sentence. Every risk. Every strange and beautiful turn that would never survive a meeting table.

This is why I self publish now. Not because I could not go the other way. But because this way keeps the art alive. And in the end that is what matters most.