Chad W. Post challenges the publishing industry's addiction to viral moments, arguing that the true engine of sustainability for independent presses isn't a runaway bestseller or a billionaire donor, but the quiet, consistent power of a deep backlist. In an era where attention spans are fractured and algorithms dictate discovery, Post offers a data-driven manifesto for stability over growth, suggesting that the most valuable asset a publisher owns is a book published a decade ago that is still selling today.
The Myth of the Breakout
Post begins by dismantling the romanticized notion that success is always a sudden, explosive event. He observes that while he can sometimes trace a sales spike to a specific podcast mention—like the hundreds of copies sold after Life on Books discussed a title—most backlist surges are "pretty hard to pin down." He notes that a sudden jump could be the result of "a mid-sized book club, an enthusiastic bookseller, a random TikTok, a mention on a local radio program, a plug by a famous author or celebrity, or, just something in the ether." This acknowledgment of chaos is crucial; it forces the industry to stop chasing replicable viral hits that rarely materialize.
The author argues that relying on these boom-or-bust cycles is a dangerous strategy for nonprofit presses. He writes, "Books with the largest advances and most sophisticated marketing campaigns flop on the regular." This is a stark reminder that market forces are often indifferent to quality or investment. When a press chases bestsellers, Post warns, they risk a fundamental identity crisis: "once a nonprofit publisher starts chasing best-sellers, they tend to lose sight of their mission and transform into a different sort of publisher in which producing books can become more important than art and community."
Once a nonprofit publisher starts chasing best-sellers, they tend to lose sight of their mission and transform into a different sort of publisher in which producing books can become more important than art and community.
Critics might argue that ignoring the potential for a mega-hit is an admission of defeat in a competitive market, but Post's data suggests the opposite. He points out that finding an "angel donor" is equally precarious, dependent on "the right financial circumstances for the potential donor" which can vanish as quickly as they appear. The volatility of relying on a single windfall is illustrated by the history of presses that expanded rapidly after a surprise hit, only to face distress when that momentum stalled.
The Backlist as an Endowment
Post reframes the backlist not as a graveyard of old inventory, but as a "working endowment." He draws on the philosophy of John O'Brien, suggesting that if a press can sell a modest number of copies across a large catalog, it creates a stable financial base. He illustrates this with a hypothetical calculation: if a press with 219 titles averages just 100 sales per book annually, that generates enough revenue to cover "two to three NEA grants" or a couple of salaries. This is not about getting rich; it is about survival.
He contrasts this with the "infinite growth" mentality that plagues modern business, noting that stability is often viewed as a "net loss" by those obsessed with scaling. Post is clear about his vision: "I just want to try as best I can, with what limited financial and emotional resources I have, to create a community of book people who enjoy creating the art they want to create for the readers who enjoy reading these sorts of books." This approach prioritizes the ecosystem of art over the metrics of expansion.
To make this abstract concept concrete, Post introduces a proprietary metric called "tAVG+" (total Average Plus). Instead of looking at total lifetime sales, which favors older, established titles, this metric compares a book's current year sales against its own six-year average. This allows him to identify "hot" titles regardless of their age or total volume. He explains, "To Hell with Cronjé could have the same tAVG+ as Zone regardless of the fact that Zone sells way more copies per year." This methodological shift allows him to see the pulse of the backlist in real-time, rather than relying on historical inertia.
The concept is simple: If you can sell XXX number of copies on average of XXX number of backlist titles every year, you can subsidize the press's core expenses and provide a stable base from which to best fulfill your mission.
This data-driven approach reveals unexpected trends, such as a sustained uptick in sales for South African author Ingrid Winterbach, whose work was championed by a founding editor years ago. Post notes that Winterbach's novels, including To Hell with Cronjé, have seen a "couple-year-long uptick" without any obvious marketing campaign. This mirrors the phenomenon seen with Elena Ferrante, where the My Brilliant Friend series became a runaway success years after its initial publication, proving that the right book can find its audience at any time if it remains available.
The Human Element of Data
While Post is deeply analytical, he never loses sight of the human stories behind the numbers. He highlights the role of translators and the specific editorial choices that bring these works to English-speaking audiences. He details the work of translators like Elsa Silke and Iris Gouws, whose efforts ensure that Winterbach's voice remains vibrant decades after the original publication. This attention to the labor of translation underscores the value of the backlist: it is a living archive of global literature, maintained by a dedicated community.
Post also touches on the broader economic pressures facing mid-sized presses, mentioning how distribution platforms can "straight gouge presses in search of profit." In this context, the backlist becomes a shield against external exploitation. By generating "nearly passive income," the backlist allows the press to pay artists fairly and maintain editorial standards without bowing to financial desperation. He writes, "I don't personally need any special awards or accolades to feel validated," emphasizing a spiritual sustainability that is just as important as the financial kind.
I just don't want to rely on them in order to be a proper publishing house—meaning we pay our artists fairly and on time, do the proper amount of marketing for our titles, and never be forced to deviate from our editorial standards for financial reasons.
A counterargument worth considering is whether this model is scalable for smaller presses that lack the inventory depth to generate significant aggregate sales. Post acknowledges that achieving this requires "a certain amount of staff time, financial investment, strategic thinking—and luck." However, his argument is that even a modest backlist, if managed with the right metrics, can provide a buffer that allows for risk-taking on new, experimental frontlist titles.
Bottom Line
Post's most compelling contribution is the redefinition of success: moving away from the lottery-ticket mentality of bestsellers toward the steady reliability of a curated catalog. The strongest part of his argument is the practical application of the tAVG+ metric, which transforms vague intuition into actionable data. The biggest vulnerability remains the sheer effort required to maintain and market hundreds of titles in a digital landscape that favors the new and the viral. Readers should watch for how independent presses adopt similar data strategies to build resilience against an increasingly unstable publishing economy.