Seeking out the tried and true is the wrong direction for crazy times.  –Seth Godin

And it’s crazy in publishing these days.

The industry is in the middle of an upheaval and anyone who claims to know exactly how it will end up is lying. But one thing is for sure: writers have more choices than ever. And that’s nothing but good. A lot of worthy books never get read, let alone published. If more of them now have a chance (along with more bad ones, sure) let’s all do a jig.

I think I was lucky I knew nothing about the publishing industry when I finished the first draft of my first novel, The Rooms Are Filled, two years ago. I came at it with green, unbiased eyes. I knew there were things called agents and editors and publishers, but I had no idea how it all worked, so I set out to learn.

This was 2011, just as the industry was really starting to turn on its head. Options were opening up that had never existed. What used to be unheard of or stigmatized was now becoming more common and accepted.

Once I discovered there was more than one path to choose from, I had to figure out what was most important to me. I started reading other writers’ essays about why they chose to go the traditional route (try to get an agent, who then hopefully finds a publisher). I read some version of the following from several writers: “My dream is to see my book on the shelf in a bookstore.” (It was and still is the case, as far as I know, that large chains, like B&N, and most indie bookstores do not carry self-published books.)

Was that my dream, to see my book on the shelf of a bookstore? Sort of. But it didn’t feel quite right. It wasn’t THE dream.

I also read, “I don’t want to/don’t have the time to learn the industry myself [like self-publishers have to], so I’m going traditional.” That didn’t dissuade me, either. I was almost itching to learn and do it all. Plus, I kept reading that much of the marketing falls on the author no matter where she’s published, and that’s a big part of getting your book in front of readers.

So I started reading essays in support of self-publishing, and my heart/gut/intuition/Jedi-master signals went off like crazy.

Here’s what I learned after all my research:

I believe the author has the right to complete control over his or her book.

Complete control. That includes the story, the cover design, and when to share the book with the rest of the world.

Used to be, an author couldn’t have complete control and be taken seriously as a writer. Now we can.

This does not mean a writer doesn’t need, and shouldn’t solicit, help. It means the writer calls the shots. The author is the CEO of The Book. Not the publisher or their marketing department—the author. I didn't want to be yet another woman writer whose publisher slaps on a romantic book cover, whether the book is a romance or not, in order to sell more copies.

Last fall, I hired an editor (the former acquisitions editor of a traditional publishing house). It isn’t cheap, and that’s one reason why some people can’t choose to self-publish. I’m lucky that my family could afford it.

I steeped myself in information about cover designers, book bloggers, marketing tips, proofreaders, book formatting, SEO, Amazon categories… I spent every free minute (and some stolen ones) on my computer. And I enjoyed it.

At some point, I started to get carpal tunnel (I’m sure of it). I realized I hadn’t had a conversation with my husband in something like ten days. We hadn’t watched a movie together at night for weeks. I hadn’t relished in my little children for too long. I dreamed about ISBN numbers. Self-publishing was taking over my life.

One day I had the thought that if my children were just in school already, I’d have more time to learn the industry and prepare to publish. That thought made me realize I had only a year or two left until my children were in school full time.

And that’s when I pulled my head out of my arse and set my priorities straight.

Months earlier, I’d read about a new publishing model in the form of She Writes Press. At the time, my heart was set on purely self-publishing. When I realized I might want to remember my children’s early years, I decided to submit my manuscript to them. A hybrid press, they combine the best, I think, of traditional (vetting of authors and distribution) and self (control, rights, and profit).

They accepted The Rooms Are Filled and I signed the contract in June. SWP can also be thought of as “assisted self-publishing.” I pay for services I would have paid for as a self-publisher, anyway (like proofreading and cover design). But I get help—they’re basically managing my publication but I’m in control. And now my book is open to reviewers and bookstores who don’t deal with self-published titles.

I want to give my first book the best chance I can without sacrificing my principles, and SWP—the first model of its kind, far as I can tell—is giving me a chance to do that.

Self-publishing is not for the meek (or the bold with young children). Nor is traditional publishing. Hell, neither is writing a book in the first place.

It’s crazy in publishing these days—and exciting. Right now, both traditional and self-publishing are in the game, and some mix of the best of both will survive and form a new industry. How lucky are we writers and readers that we get not only to be in the midst of it, but help create it?

Jessica Vealitzek is a writer and mother near Chicago. Her debut novel, The Rooms Are Filled, will be published by SWP in April, 2014. You can find her online at True STORIES.