How not to publish a book

“Every Copywriter has an idea for a book in their bottom drawer, and that’s exactly where it should stay.”

Somebody somewhere probably said that, and even if they didn’t, they’re right.

Over the years I’ve written about half a dozen books that went nowhere, with titles like:

‘A Day in the Life of the Happiest Man in the World.’
‘Behind the Door at Number Three.’
‘The Man With the Comfy Trousers.’
‘Fizz Boing Plop.’

All of them were a joy to write. All of them a huge learning curve.

Only one manuscript ever made it as far as the bins of various literary agents.

No regrets.

The last time I wrote a full book was something like 8 years ago, and I had no urge to write another.

But, here we go again…

Day one:
March 2025, a senior creative chap sent me an email. ‘…I wanted to take a moment and introduce myself to see if you ever need an art director or designer.’ He’d moved back to the UK after a long stint in Australia and, ‘…I’d love to meet up for a coffee’.

So we did and it was fascinating. He was brilliant designer and he’d had several books published – by Penguin, no less.

I didn’t hear the penny drop. But it must have, because just a few weeks later, my book writing itch flared right up. And, without giving it any conscious thought, a plan hatched itself. It was an awkward, ugly little plan at first, but once its eyes opened and it got all cute and fluffy, I was hooked.

This was the plan.

All those daft ideas that were sitting in a thousand note books and hard drives. Silly poems, short stories, scribbles and nibbles. I’d round them up and make a book that defied categorisation. A book that would, again, most likely go nowhere, but the itch was driving me mad now.

Day 22:
I started hunting and sifting and editing and writing new bits and bobs, and a title made itself known:

‘Hednogs & Hartfluf’

Ideas and creative wanderings from/through my head and heart. Just for the hell of it.

Every spare moment between copywriting gigs and pretending to be a grownup, I was consumed.

I was drawing and photoshopping and writing and editing like a thing possessed.

Day 56:
The ideas were growing and changing. I shared my first ramblings with a brilliantly talented designer friend and his eyes lit up. Yes, he wanted in. Yes, he’d do it just for the fun of it. And yes, he got it – 100%.

The beast took over.

We worked like demons on fizzy pop. Page after page. Version after version. The ‘rules’ wrote themselves.

It had to feel random. Logic was the enemy. ‘Why’ was a useless question, because the answer was always the same – ‘because it makes us smile, and why not’.

No exaggeration, between April 2025 and September 2026, I reckon Hednogs & Hartfluf gobbled up at least 1500 hours of my life. And I gladly let it feast on me.

Day 323:
By March 2026 we had a couple of hundred pages we were happy with, so I started showing it around on my laptop to whoever would put up with me. And the response was overwhelmingly positive, though no one understood it or could pin it down. Raised eyebrows, wrinkled foreheads, outbursts of laughter… it was alive.

Day 353:
By April 2026, we’d got a book’s worth of nonsense together. I purchased an ISBN number. And we did a very short, very expensive test print run.

There were lots of things wrong with the books we got back. The binding didn’t really work, it needed to be hardback, there were too many pages, and far too many typos. But, there it was. A real, touchy-feely 3D book. Crumbs.

Day 364:
I had a shortlist of people I wanted to read it and give me their honest opinions. Writers, published authors and critics.

I wanted opinions, and boy, did I get them. Really useful feedback. And the promise of a foreword too.

Thing was, what was I going to do with the book now? Should I approach publishers? Or literary agents? Or go down the print on demand route?

I asked around and trawled the web. My conclusion – there was no point talking to publishers without an agent. But, going through an agent would mean another 18 months before it would ever get near a bookshelf (if at all), creative compromise and more trouble than it was worth. Then again, I would lose money using a print on demand service and the print quality would be inconsistent.

I wanted to get it out there, I wanted to take the path of least resistance – I also didn’t want to bury myself in financial debt doing it.

Crowdfunding – BINGO!

Over the last few years I’d chipped in to get other peoples’ creative projects off the ground, on Patreon and Kickstarter. So why not me?

Day 389:
Kickstarter seemed like the best option, so I bit the bullet and set up a campaign page.

This was the intro:

You know how you have those daft ideas that never really go anywhere?
The amusing rhymes and visual juxtapositions that make your inner child titter.
Stories that only got so far, that just needed a polish and a shove.
Scribbles and brain wafts and flights of fancy that needed grabbing before they evaporated.

That’s what Hednogs & Hartfluf is.

240 pages of ridiculous musings, re-opened dead ends and creative tinkerings, written and designed by Jonathan Wilcock and Riz Jaffer-Clarke.
It will make you smile, it will make your day a little brighter.
It may even make you want to stick a pencil up your nose.

Here’s what beta readers have said (we printed a very short test run a couple of months ago to iron out any wrinkles):

“It’s weird and beautiful and uplifting and weird and amusing and weird.”
Andrew Boulton, copywriter and author

“Wow. and Yes!!”
Emily Penny, brand strategist and writer

“Delightfully bonkers… a remarkable achievement.”
Mark Denton Esq, author of ‘Unleash the Power of Puerility’

“Feels like a cheese dream. I love it.”
Sarah Townsend, multi-award-winning author

“John Lennon Surrealism meets Pythonesque wit.”
Paddy Gilmore, ‘Funny Matters’ Columnist in The Drum

The campaign sat there dormant for a month or two, while we faffed and fiddled and chronically over-thought everything.

Meanwhile, we kept chipping away at a finalFinalFINAL version of the artwork. A new cover design, removing pages, refining pages, re-ordering. This went on for weeks.

Day 428:
I realised I needed a promo video. So, scrappy storyboard in hand, I persuaded an animator to work at mates’ rates. Here’s the cut-down teaser:

Day 456:
We were ‘there’. So we thought. I had finalFinalFINAL_ArtworkV19.pdf file on my hard drive. I’d fine-tuned the Kickstarter page ready to go live. ‘All’ I needed now was to tell everyone in the world about it.

Day 458:
I wrote and sent something like 250 emails, created 30+ visual assets for LinkedIn and versions for Instagram. I made phone calls. I was plugging, plugging, plugging, meanwhile keeping copywriting clients happy and dealing with some challenging family stuff.

It was relentless.

In for a penny…

Day 467:
I’d set a Kickstarter campaign target of £2,175.00. Enough to fund a modest print run. The campaign went live on July 22nd. I was excited. Terrified. Numb.

July 22nd – there were six backers! Five wanted a book. One chipped in £1.

That person who chipped in £1? They sent an email. They wanted to talk ‘away from the Kickstarter platform, to discuss the book and see if they might want to purchase one’. Alarm bells rang, something smelt fishy. I ignored the email. Three hours later, they’d cancelled their poxy £1 pledge.

Then the email floodgates opened – ‘…After reviewing your project, I believe it has the potential to reach an even wider audience…I’d love to continue the conversation…’. Dozens of them. Vultures circling my naive writer’s corpse, all with promises of an audience reach of millions.

Day 468:
July 23rd – seven more backers. Four books ordered, a very generous pledge of £50 asking for no reward, and two pledges for a £5 digital file. One of those £5 pledges turned out to be another hoaxer who cancelled their pledge the same day after I declined to chat away from the Kickstarter platform.

Day 481:
August 5th. By this point, I’d been hammering the socials every day. Some might say hammering too much. But there was a deadline. If I didn’t hit that £2,175.00 target, nothing would happen. 99% wasn’t good enough, it had to be a minimum of 100% or it would have all been in vain.

The initial spurt of backer (and faux backer) action had slowed. We were into day 15 of a 30-day campaign. We were at 74%. Getting nerve-rackingly close, but I was burning out. How many emails, how many phone calls, how many social posts can one man do before going insane?

Day 489:
With only nine days to D-Day, I sent this update to all campaign followers (for some reason, there are those who lurk in the shadows watching Crowdfunding Schmucks like me sweat their way towards the finish line before committing):

“Howdy! Quickie update.
Hednogs & Hartfluf is now 89% backed, with 9 days to go – which is pretty awesome.
11% less awesome than 100% of course, but 89% more awesome than when we kicked off.
And almost as awesome as you when (if?) you back it.
Yours with all my toes crossed. Jonathan x x x”

Day 494:
With four days to go, I sent another update to followers:

“Hi there, you lovely Kickstarter-backing superhero.
Thanks for following the progress of Hednogs & Hartfluf.
The campaign’s going pretty well to be fair, but with a little over 48 hours left, we’re keeping everything crossed that a few more Hednogs Ninjas join the gang.
I showed a test proof around at an arts event just this weekend. Once people got hold of it, I almost had to crowbar it out of their hands.
There were kertitterings, boffy-hoo-has and snorks of approval all round. And even better, promises to back the project. I was chuffed to bits.
Anyway, if you do end up bagging a copy for yourself, I’ll be sending a million thank yous via the cosmic airwaves!
If you don’t, I’ll love you all the same.
Cheers mi dear. Jonathan x x x”

Day 498:
The campaign was done (as was I, almost).

I was duty bound to send an update to everyone who’d backed the project and the remaining stragglers:

“Hednogs & Hartfluf is go!
A huge thanks to all the backers and well-wishers. We did it!
Feeling giddy/relieved/shocked/giggly.
I’ve left three items dangling for late pledges, so if you’re thinking, “darnit, I missed the boat”, you haven’t. But, I won’t leave them up for more than a week or two, ‘cos I need to know what print run to order pretty soon. So, if you’d still like a copy of this gorgeous, bonkers book of boggling words and pictures, please dive in asap.
Meanwhile, sending love and goosepimples.
Jonathan x x x x x x x x x”

Day 510:
I closed late pledge options. We’d hit 132% of our target. I’d sweated 4x my own body weight to get here, but here we were all the same. Now what?

Day 513:
I stopped for a breath or two. Then proof-read the artwork again – three times!

We made more tweaks. Then I had a protracted conversation with the printers before putting the order in. Next, I had to get my head around sorting out the shipping details for all the backers – cue a disjointed chat with a robot, but we got there in the end. I think/hope.

Day 514:
Head still spinning slightly. Already panicking about packaging and posting, but I’ll cross that bridge when the print arrives (apparently it’s going to weigh over 100kg).

If you bought a copy. A thousand thank yous.

If you didn’t, here’s the sort of nonsense you’re missing:

Only a few days to go, then I can start writing the next book.

Ooh, by the way. Quick rewind back to around about Day 488 – a friend introduced me to someone from the De La Warr Pavilion, who promised to put me in touch with the person who looks after bookshop sales. We had a chat, he had a look and agreed to take a few copies. Yippeeee.

See you at The Booker Prize knees-up.

Love and patience.

Jonathan x

Jonathan Wilcock (that’s me) is a Senior Freelance Copywriter.
You can drop me a line here, or email jonathan@sowhatif.co.uk