In an earlier piece, I shared the story behind Both Sides Now — how the book reflects my experiences and thoughts, how it combines images and words, and how it emerged from years of photography and journaling. But there's another side to every book: the part no one talks about much. The hard, practical work of making it real.
So here’s how I did it. Maybe there’s something here for you too.
It started with an idea
The idea was simple. Pair my black-and-white photographs with diary entries. But ideas are easy — you need to see if they hold water. I opened Google Slides, dropped in a few photos and lines of text, and printed some pages at home. Nothing fancy — just to get a feel for the layout, the rhythm, and the tone.
This early prototype helped me see the book. Not imagine it — see it. And Google Slides made it easy to share with friends and get early feedback.
I reached out to publishers (and learned a few things)
With the concept in place, I contacted a few publishers. As expected, no one was interested. I’m not famous. I was also told by people who’ve done this before: don’t bother. Publishers aren’t looking for photo books — especially not personal, black-and-white ones. There’s no money in it, and even if you do find a publisher, they’ll charge you for everything: design, editing, printing… and raise the price of the book beyond what anyone would pay.
Still, I liked the idea of publishing. So I did it — I started my own publishing company in Finland. It’s called Slowlight Art, registered in Finland to conduct photography, publish books, and such. Technically, I’m not self-publishing anymore. It just so happens that I own 100% of my publisher.
The real choices begin
From here, I had two options:
1. Use a print-on-demand service like Blurb.
2. Do everything myself — find a printer, manage the process, and take on the risk.
Blurb books can cost €70–150 each. That’s too much. I’m just a guy with a book — not someone who can ask a hundred euros per copy. So I chose the second route. It would be harder, but it meant the book could be affordable. More risk, yes. But more control too.
Testing the waters
I had done a small run zine before, and eventually found a print shop that delivered great results — though it took four tries, and some serious persistence. When I decided to move forward with Both Sides Now, I went back to them. They knew my expectations, and I had some confidence.
The book was now finalized conceptually — the structure, the story, the images and words. I ran my texts through ChatGPT to clean up grammar and then asked my daughter to proofread (and catch what the machines missed).
Into production
Using the print shop’s guide, I adjusted the layout and margins in InDesign. I scanned my negatives, edited the images in Lightroom, and exported them at print size. Lightroom only outputs RGB — not ideal for black-and-white, but manageable. I then imported everything into InDesign — one file for the content, one for the cover — and exported PDFs with the shop’s specs.
Digital proofs came the next day. They looked good. Confident, I ordered a single test copy.
And… disaster. The whole book was magenta. Somehow, despite following the same process that worked for my zine, this one had gone wrong.
Turns out, the shop had outsourced the printing to someone else. They were acting as a broker — not a printer. That explained it. I insisted they use the same printer as before, and a week later I received five new copies.
Still wrong. Now the images were too light, and the covers were a mess.
Time to pivot
It was clear I needed a new solution. I contacted multiple print shops across Europe, asked for quotes for 200 and 500 copies, and received a range of prices from €15 to €30 per book, depending on paper, cover, and quantity.
I also reached out to people I trust. Taneli Eskola and Mikael Siirilä both recommended a print shop in Latvia — Jelgavas Tipografija. I contacted them and received sample books they’d printed. The quality was excellent.
Their process was different, though. Everything had to be greyscale, not RGB. And Adobe doesn’t make this easy. So I created a new workflow:
I uploaded the files, reviewed digital proofs, and ordered a physical proof sheet — just to be sure.
Everything checked out. I placed the order.
When the books arrived
A few weeks later, the books landed. The print quality was solid. The blacks held. The greys were clean. And of course, I instantly noticed a few small mistakes I’d made — but that’s how it goes. No book is ever perfect. At some point, you just have to let go.
Fulfillment: the part no one tells you about
Making the book is one thing. Getting it to people is another.
I considered all kinds of options:
-Amazon fulfillment.
-eBay (like I’d done with the zine).
-A proper Shopify store.
In the end, I kept it simple. My "publishing company" set up a basic web store.
I bought packaging material in bulk. I sell and ship the books myself.
This part? It’s a grind:
-Open the web shop.
-Handle marketing.
-Pack books.
-Print shipping labels and customs forms.
-Sign copies if someone asks.
-Wrap books. Tape boxes. Haul them to the post office.
-Wait in line.
But still — every order is a real person who decided to support this work. That matters. And I’m grateful.
The math
If I sell about four times the number of books I sold as zines, I’ll break even. Printing costs are about 50% of the total. The rest? Shipping, customs, taxes.
So, what should you know if you want to make your own book?
-Start with a story. Do you have something to say?
-Decide your path. Print-on-demand? Publisher? DIY like I did?
-Learn the tools. You’ll need to create proper PDF files with bleeds, page orders, paper specs — InDesign is your friend.
-Get proofs. Especially physical ones. Things look different on paper.
-Choose your printer wisely. Costs vary wildly.
-Figure out marketing. If no one knows the book exists, no one will buy it.
-Make it easy to buy. Web shop, Amazon, whatever suits you.
-Handle fulfillment. Or find someone who will.
-Accept imperfection. Nothing will go exactly to plan.
-Know the costs. They add up. And not just money — time, energy, and shipping tape.
Am I happy with Both Sides Now?
Yes. Absolutely.
Yes. Absolutely.
It took persistence, stubbornness, and a bit of delusion. But now it’s a real thing — something people can hold in their hands.
And maybe, just maybe, it might inspire someone else to tell their story too.
You can buy yours here!
