Publishing Is More Than Printing
Most formatting and publishing conventions exist because they solve a problem for the reader.
ART & CRAFT OF BOOKSPUBLISHING
Not long ago, I participated in an online discussion asking why we still bother following traditional typography rules. If everything is changing, some argued, and there isn’t really a “normal” anymore, why not just do whatever looks or feels good?
It’s a fair question. Perhaps surprisingly to those who ask it, the answer is not an arbitrary, “Because that’s the rule.”
The true answer is that most conventions exist because they solve a problem for the reader.
The specific question under discussion was: why insist on indented paragraphs instead of extra spacing between paragraphs? Conventionally, a blank line signals a transition—a shift in time, place, or perspective. But then why did it become convention?
When reading, our brains aren’t merely decoding words; they are also interpreting the visual structure of the page. Paragraph spacing “chunks” information visually on the page. If every paragraph is separated by extra space, the reader must pause, however briefly, to decide what that space means. Conversely, the absence of extra space between paragraphs signals continuation: no transition is upcoming.
It’s a tiny distinction, but one that assists the reader in remaining immersed in the story—and therefore it became convention. Typography serves the book best when it disappears. The reader shouldn’t notice the paragraph indentation, the typeface, the margins, or the line spacing. All of those choices should support the story, not compete with it for a reader’s attention.
Conventions in typography are part of the broader conventions of publishing, and as in typography, those conventions exist for a reason. And as in typography, they work best when they are so well-crafted as to be almost invisible to the reader.
It’s never been easier to turn a manuscript into a printed book. Literally anyone with an internet connection can upload a manuscript to a print-on-demand service and receive a stack of paperbacks a few days later. It’s an extraordinary opportunity, and one I’m genuinely grateful exists. But printing alone doesn’t necessarily make a manuscript published. Printing and publishing are not the same thing.
Publishing is a process of making thousands of decisions, most of which the reader will never—should never—consciously notice. Has the manuscript been carefully edited? Has the pacing been strengthened? Have the gaps been filled? Do the illustrations serve the story? Is the type easy to read? Do the page turns build suspense or interrupt it? Does the cover accurately promise what’s inside?
Those aren’t finishing touches, and they certainly aren’t unnecessary flourishes. They are the very essence of what publishing is.
A manuscript is private. A published book is public—quite literally a publication. The moment we create a book, we’re asking for something precious: our readers’ time, attention, and trust. We owe them our best work. Publishing, like typography, serves the book best when it disappears, becoming something that never pulls the reader out of immersion in the story.
Rules can change, of course. James Joyce and e.e. cummings are famous literary figures who broke all sorts of grammatical and formatting conventions. But neither did so because they didn’t know the rules. No, they understood them so thoroughly that they could bend them, sometimes transcending them completely, in service of the work itself.
But mastering the basics comes before innovation. Breaking a convention because you understand what it accomplishes and can do it better another way is not remotely the same as abandoning it because you don’t understand what purpose it serves, or worse, aren’t even aware that it exists in the first place.
The goal of craftsmanship isn’t blind obedience to tradition; it’s understanding the purpose behind the available options and choosing the one that best serves the work and its intended audience. Sometimes that means preserving a convention because it serves the reader beautifully; sometimes it means replacing it with something better. Either way, it should always be intentional.
I’ve been asked why I started an independent press instead of simply self-publishing my own books, and the answer is that I wanted to be a publisher.
I’m not in any way looking down on self-published authors, most of whom put a lot of care and thought into the craft of publishing their works. In fact, I came very close to taking that path instead of the rather more burdensome one of creating an imprint and actually publishing other people’s books in addition to my own.
So this isn’t an argument for traditional publishing over independent publishing. To the contrary, traditionally published books are often rushed into print before they’re ready, while independently or self-published books often rival the finest work from established houses.
The difference isn’t who owns the ISBN or who wrote the check. The difference is whether someone embraced the responsibilities of a publisher.
So yes, questions about typography matter more than they first appear. They’re really questions about whether we’re willing to make thousands of thoughtful decisions on behalf of readers we’ll probably never meet. Books shape imaginations, preserve ideas, introduce us to strangers, and become companions we return to for years—sometimes for generations. They deserve to be published, not just printed.
From my shelf to yours,
Carma
“I began printing books with the hope of producing some which would have a definite claim to beauty, while at the same time they should be easy to read and should not dazzle the eye, or trouble the intellect of the reader by eccentricity of form in the letters…. And it was the essence of my undertaking to produce books which would be a pleasure to look upon as pieces of printing and arrangement of type.”
~ William Morris, The Ideal Book, 1893.
Further Reading
The Elements of Typographic Style , Robert Bringhurst—a modern classic on book design
The Design of Books, Debbie Berne—an accessible introduction to book design for authors and editors
From the Stacks
Featured Image: William Morris, Kelmscott Press: Page printed in the Golden Type, c. 1895.
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