Three years ago, I stepped into the Southbank Centre for my first indie author conference in London—not my first ever, but something new, something alive with possibility. I already knew a few faces in the crowd—fellow authors I’d met in other places, at other points in the journey. But here, in this vibrant city, it felt like a reconnection made brighter by the setting. London had its own rhythm, and so did this event.

That first morning felt like the start of something meaningful. We weren’t strangers bumping into one another—we were returning travelers, picking up old conversations, exchanging knowing smiles, and instantly falling into the comfortable rhythm of shared ambition.

The conference hall buzzed with purpose—not loud, not frantic, just charged. I remember standing near the entrance, watching the flow of people check in, shoulders light, eyes curious. The simple welcome sign behind the desk didn’t shout—it invited. And something in me answered.

Write, Publish, Market… and Repeat

It’s easy to think of writing as a solitary act—just you, your characters, and a blank page. But anyone who’s ventured into the world of indie publishing knows the truth: writing is just one piece of the puzzle. What happens after the final chapter matters just as much.

The Self Publishing Show LIVE brings that reality into sharp, neon-lit focus. One of the standout moments this year came during a panel titled “Write, Publish, Market… Repeat?”—a mantra that might as well be etched onto the soul of every indie author. The stage lit up in bold purples and yellows, but it was the conversation that truly sparked.

You can see it in the photo—four seasoned authors, laughing and sharing the hard-won lessons of the trade. This wasn’t a lofty, out-of-reach discussion. It was real, practical, grounded. What works? What flops? How do you balance storytelling with spreadsheets? How do you show up for your readers while staying true to your voice?

Publishing isn't just clicking “upload” and hoping for the best. It’s timing, formats, metadata, blurbs that sell without spoiling. Marketing isn't an afterthought—it’s part of the creative process. From launch strategy to social media, ads to algorithms, it’s a whole other form of storytelling, one where your audience is the main character.

And then there’s everything else: branding, reader engagement, cover design, newsletters, retailer platforms, translations, audiobooks, collaborations—each one its own mini-universe to explore.

That balance of craft and career is what makes this event so special. You walk in as a writer. You leave feeling like a CEO… with a dash of wizard.

The Power of Access and the Honesty of Giants

Behind every bestseller is a long road of risk, resilience, and real talk.

The Self Publishing Show has always been more than a stage—it’s a gateway. Not just to information or opportunity, but to people who’ve already walked the road we’re on. Some are just a few steps ahead. Others have carved trails through mountains.

Last year, I sat in the audience watching E.L. James and Lucy Score—two names synonymous with explosive success—settle into their chairs under the lights. But what unfolded wasn’t a glamorized tale of bestseller glory. No smoke and mirrors. No “just believe in yourself” platitudes.

Instead, they opened up. They talked about doubt—and not just the early kind, but the kind that creeps in even after you’ve hit milestones. They spoke of risk—of choosing your own path when others said it was impossible. And they talked about how building a lasting career isn’t a magic trick—it’s a daily commitment.

The photo captures it perfectly: bright stage, deep shadows, three authors in casual conversation—each one radiating calm confidence and vulnerability at once. That moment reminded me why events like this matter. They humanize the dream.

There’s a special kind of empowerment that happens when the gatekeepers step aside and say, “Here’s how I did it. You can too.” That’s the ethos of the Self Publishing Show. It invites you into the room, sits you down, and gives you the tools you need to forge ahead—whether your dream is to finish your first book or build an empire.

Success doesn’t start with perfection. It starts with showing up. Again and again.

A Crowd That Becomes a Tribe

There’s something electrifying about being surrounded by people who get it. People who understand what it means to wrestle with a story, chase a dream, and hit “publish” not knowing if anyone will ever read it.

Over the years, the crowd at the Self Publishing Show has evolved. There are always fresh faces—new authors taking their first brave steps. And there are the familiar ones, too—friends from previous years, familiar smiles across a room, old conversations picked up like no time has passed. This year was no different.

What I love most is how easily community forms here. That hum of voices between sessions isn’t just chatter—it’s collaboration being born. It’s someone asking for advice, someone else offering it. It’s shared laughter over cover fails, triumphant tales of email lists that finally worked, or that one review that made it all worthwhile. 

We are creators who chose a different path—not because it’s easier, but because it’s ours. 

In this photo, you can almost feel the energy bouncing off the walls. It’s messy, vibrant, chaotic—and beautiful. Because this is more than a conference. It’s a reminder that we’re never doing this alone. 💛

If you’re an author reading this—you belong here, too. Your tribe is waiting.

A Conference That Grows With Us

Change can be risky. But sometimes, it’s exactly what we didn’t know we needed.

In past years, the Self Publishing Show packed two full days of sessions into London’s iconic Southbank Centre—a place filled with light, creative energy, and just enough riverside breeze to remind you you're in the heart of one of the world’s great cities. We loved it. We thrived in it.

But this year, they did something different.

Day One remained rooted in the familiar: that grand auditorium with its warm wood and striking acoustics. It was the perfect setting for the keynotes, panels, and lively presentations that filled our heads with strategy and story. But Day Two? That’s where the magic shifted.

Workshops replaced main-stage lectures. The venue moved to a nearby hotel—one where many authors were already staying—and suddenly everything felt a little more grounded, a little more personal. ✨

Instead of looking up at a stage, we were pulling up chairs. Asking questions. Getting hands-on. Sharing lunch in the lobby between sessions. The intimacy of the hotel space gave us something the auditorium couldn’t: real time for reflection, conversation, and connection.

We loved the new format. It created breathing room. It let ideas settle and take root. And for many of us, it turned a great conference into something unforgettable.

Because that’s the beautiful thing about the indie author journey—it evolves. And so does this show.

A City That Writes Itself

London isn’t just a backdrop—it’s a mood, a muse, and sometimes, a main character.

Every time I return, I’m reminded why this city feels like the perfect setting for a gathering of storytellers. Its sky is always doing something dramatic. The river Thames rolls by with quiet authority. The architecture—modern and ancient—shares the same sidewalk. 

From the towering presence of Big Ben to the slow-turning elegance of the London Eye, this city is a study in contrast and continuity. Like writing. Like publishing. Like us.

And in between sessions and workshops, we wandered. We ducked into bookstores and cafes. We crossed bridges with friends old and new. We dreamed out loud. We filled our notebooks.

Because London makes space for imagination. And for a few brilliant days in June, it made space for us.

Until Next Time…

Three years. Dozens of sessions. Pages filled with notes, questions, and the spark of new ideas. Each year, I leave with more than I came with—not just knowledge, but courage, clarity, and community.

And as I looked back at the stage—quiet now, bathed in light—it didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like a promise.

The seats will fill again. The voices will rise. And the stories—we’ll write those together.

Will I be back next year?

Try to stop me.