IMHO: The Kick in the Pants That Nonprofit Literary Presses Needed

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At the AWP Conference in Baltimore this year, I attended two panels focused on the future of small nonprofit publishers in an era in which no literary organization can expect support from the National Endowment for the Arts or Humanities. (Catch up on what’s happened.)

Certainly NEA funding has never been a sure thing for anyone, and federal funds comprise a small percentage—typically less than 10 percent—of publishers’ budgets. But every dollar counts, and recent years have brought new pressures, such as the closure of Small Press Distribution in early 2025, book challenges and book bans, and a chilly atmosphere for presses that publish translations, immigrants, and/or LGBTQ+ voices.

The two panels I attended were:

A bit of a personal preface: Years ago, I contributed to the anthology Literary Publishing in the Twenty-First Century (Milkweed Editions, 2016), edited by Travis Kurowski, Wayne Miller, and Kevin Prufer (to be updated and re-released in 2027). At the time, I was coming off a brief tenure at the Virginia Quarterly Review and wasn’t enamored with what I observed in the literary publishing community. In my essay, “The Future Value of a Literary Publisher,” I discussed the declining value of being a publisher in an era where anyone can publish anything. While distribution and discoverability are real concerns for small presses, the deeper issue, I argued (and still argue), is differentiation. Literary publishers must move beyond publishing “excellent writing” or “great stories” to engage with communities around a clear mission, with a compelling why or reason for existence.

Part of my frustration, then and now, is that independent literary presses are well-positioned to play the long game, cultivating loyal readerships and becoming indispensable beacons for their community. Yet too many remain insular in attitude and approach, assuming the world will see and understand their value just as they do.

It’s a truism that change doesn’t happen until the pain becomes too great not to change, and that time has come for literary nonprofit publishers. If you care about the arts and humanities, likely you are as distressed and angry as I am about what’s happened at the NEA and NEH, but the bright side is this: Affected organizations, if they have any meaningful leadership at all, are now doing the work they should’ve done years ago.

Motika at NYC-based Nightboat Press said they have been forced to think “more progressively and more astutely” about fundraising. While they still receive a good chunk of funding from state and city arts organizations, they’ve realized the necessity of making the case to donors and patrons for the work they do as a cultural force in their community. Nightboat’s mission statement had not been touched since its founding in 2004, and even though it had lost relevance over 20 years, staff were afraid to change it until recent events sparked a reckoning. Motika said they’re now asking “What is Nightboat beyond books?” and realizing they’re a mentoring organization and a community organization. “If we still had the NEA [support], would we still do the evolution? Probably. Would it be this focused? I don’t know.”

Levine at Tupelo Press said recent events have emphasized the need for financial diversification, board accountability (and strong boards in the first place), editorial courage, psychological steadiness, and the necessity of building institutions that don’t feel small. “Indie presses need to ensure we’re financially and structurally independent enough to continue,” he said, and he discussed six pilot models they’re exploring. They include donation and patronage models, mutual aid, crowdfunding, and doing more with backlist assets, not just for additional income but as part of fulfilling their mission and obligation to authors. “We should do something with those books,” he said. (Well, yes. Backlist is the engine of strong, sustainable publishers.)

Levine said, “The future of our presses will not be determined by Amazon’s discount structure or the NEA transitioning into Trump’s playhouse … [but by] whether we build financial models that allow it to exist. … Every generation believes it faces the end of cultural seriousness, yet literature persists because small institutions persist.”

Conners at BOA Editions said they’re focused on connecting more to the business community in their base of Rochester, New York. “It’s such a crucial time for us to get together … and talk about what we’re coming up against and encourage people outside of our usual loops to support culture in their own communities. … That’s the approach that I’m personally taking, and also we just have to get really smart and business savvy, more than we have before. … We’re small businesses as well as publishers.” (I was immediately reminded of the Andy Warhol quote, “Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art.”)

Nearly every small press representative talked about the need to make what they do more visible and legible, realizing that the insular attitudes that have prevailed for so long are not serving anyone, least of all the authors they work with. For some small presses who’ve not done much or any work to cultivate support, it will take time. Acker of The Common offered encouragement to presses no matter their size: “Start with the people you have. Strangers aren’t going to support you because you have a greater need [now] than you had before. … Even if there are only 10 [donors or people you reach directly], that’s the group that you work with and build your community out of those people. Maybe those 10 people will bring in three or four more people.” After recently working with an outside consultant, Acker said her 15-year-old organization formed a fundraising committee for the first time and dedicated an intern to fundraising support work. “We needed a kick in the pants from someone on the outside of the organization about best practices.”

Small press founders and editors continually expressed frustration at how little funding the literary arts receive. The first panel said only 2 percent of all arts funding goes to the literary arts; the second panel said 1 percent. Whatever the figure, it is a tiny amount, and everyone is wondering how to change that. Apparently it’s challenging to convince wealthy donors or private foundations that there are costs associated with publishing. During Q&A at the first panel, a former NEA staffer from decades ago, Jay Frost, offered encouraging remarks, saying it didn’t have to be literary nonprofits’ forever fate to be excluded from arts funding. He said it’s all based on individual relationships, and publishers have to seek out real partnership with donors and funders, not just solicit. “My heart is broken about the NEA, but as a community we can do what every university does, what every arts institution does. Be bold about it. … Those [big funders] just need to know you, and once they know you … you have access to that money.”

Bottom line: Acker said it’s important for nonprofit publishers to develop and define their messaging to donors, the community, and the world outside their offices. “What is the story you are telling about your magazine or press? How are you positioning yourself?” Guess what messaging and positioning is? It’s part of branding, even if that isn’t the preferred term in the literary community.

Additional resources for literary nonprofits

  • Make sure you’re plugged in to the CLMP, which offers numerous resources and a listserv, plus funding for things like consultants.
  • The Literary Arts Fund was recently formed to address the lack of funding for the literary arts.
  • Some staffers, including those in the literary arts division, have returned to work at the NEA. While funding doesn’t work exactly like it did before, it’s still possible to apply for funds. The next deadline is July 21. Learn more.

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