Small Presses, Bigger Possibilities

 

For writers outside the traditional literary centers of the Philippines, getting a book into the hands of readers has often meant finding a way through a publishing industry concentrated largely in Metro Manila, where commercial considerations, limited publishing lists, and the sheer volume of manuscripts competing for attention can make the path from manuscript to book especially difficult.

In the regions, however, a quiet publishing movement is beginning to change that landscape. Small presses are emerging not simply as alternatives to the established houses in Manila, but as necessary bridges between writers and readers.

In Cagayan de Oro, Nadine Hendrikka Legaspi established Papel Papel OPC, creating another space for writers and books outside the usual publishing circuits. Poet Gerald Galindez of Tacurong City, who writes as Aswang K Queso, runs Tridax Zines, a grassroots initiative that embraces the intimate, handmade possibilities of zine culture and independent publishing.

In General Santos, Teng Mangansakan established Bidadali Press in 2015 to create a publishing space for Moro and Mindanawon writers whose work might otherwise struggle to find a home.

“With some money from friends, we thought of putting up a small press that would, at that time, pave the way for books by Moro writers to be published,” Mangansakan recalls.

What began as a modest initiative has gradually developed into a publishing program that is now opening its doors to a wider community of writers from Mindanao.

Bidadali Press has published two significant anthologies of Bangsamoro writing: Rays of the Invisible Light and In Transit: Selected Works from Bangsamoro Literary Review 2021–2025. The press has also published Mangansakan's own collection of short stories, Closing Party and Other Stories, which was later recognized by Rolling Stone Philippines among its notable books of 2025.

This year, Bidadali is taking another step toward developing new literary voices, particularly young Moro writers, through the publication of poetry chapbooks. Saquina Karla Guiam's Archipelagic and Jamil E. Mabandis's Lanitan: Poems in Maguindanaon and English are scheduled to be released in time for the Manila International Book Fair in September.

The decision to publish poetry chapbooks is significant. Poetry has long occupied an uncertain position in commercial publishing, where novels and more conventionally marketable nonfiction can be easier to justify economically. Yet for emerging writers, especially those working in regional languages or writing from communities outside the dominant literary centers, the chapbook can provide an accessible first form of publication.

Small presses have traditionally had to operate with limited capital, small staffs, modest print runs, and distribution networks that cannot compete with those of larger publishing houses.

In the Philippines, these difficulties are compounded by the geographic realities. Books printed in Manila can be difficult and expensive to distribute to the regions, while regional publishers face the opposite problem of reaching readers and booksellers in the capital and elsewhere.

The economics of books also impose their own limitations. Printing costs, paper prices, logistics, and other requirements can quickly make publishing a financially precarious undertaking. A small press therefore has to make decisions not only about which manuscripts deserve to be published but also about whether there is a sustainable readership for them.

For regional presses, this means that passion alone cannot sustain a publishing program. The books still have to meet a standard of quality.

"The idea that small or independent publishing means accepting work simply because it comes from an underrepresented community is increasingly untenable. If regional publishing is to create a lasting literary ecosystem, its books must be edited carefully, designed professionally, produced well, and presented to readers with the same seriousness afforded to books from larger houses," Mangansakan noted.

At the same time, small presses can take risks that larger commercial publishers may not be able to take. They can publish writers whose readership is still developing, books written in regional languages, hybrid literary forms, poetry, experimental nonfiction, and works whose cultural importance may be greater than their immediate commercial potential.

This is where the regional small press becomes more than a business. It becomes part of a literary infrastructure.

“Let's face it. Publishing houses, especially in Manila, can only publish a certain number of titles,” Mangansakan says. “So we're here to fill that gap; otherwise, aspiring writers won't have the chance to have their books out.”

That gap is particularly visible in Mindanao, where a large population of writers produces work in English, Filipino, Maguindanaon, Maranao, Cebuano, and other languages, often drawing from histories and experiences that are underrepresented in the national literary imagination.

Independent presses are also finding alternative ways of reaching readers. Instead of relying entirely on conventional bookstore distribution, small publishers can sell directly through social media, literary events, festivals, workshops, book launches, institutional networks, schools, universities, cultural organizations, and direct orders. This is how Tridax Zines thrive and create its own market. In doing so, they develop relationships with readers rather than simply placing books on shelves and hoping they will be discovered.

The growth of online platforms has made this possible on a scale that earlier generations of small publishers could hardly have imagined. A regional press can announce a new title to readers across the country, accept orders directly, organize launches beyond its home city, and cultivate a community around its authors without having to depend entirely on the distribution infrastructure of the major publishing houses.

But accessibility has also created another challenge. There are now more books, more independent publishers, and more avenues for writers to publish than ever before. The task is no longer simply to produce a book, but to make readers notice it.

For Bidadali Press, part of the answer lies in building a recognizable identity around the literature it publishes: books emerging from Mindanao, particularly works that engage with the complex histories, cultures, languages, and contemporary realities of the Bangsamoro and the wider region.

The name itself carries this intention. Bidadali, a Maguindanaon word associated with a fairy or nymph, suggests something magical and elusive, a creature of water that belongs to another realm. For Bidadali Press, the metaphor is appropriate as books, like the mythical beings that inhabit stories, can transport readers into worlds they may never otherwise encounter.

As the press expands its list, Mangansakan hopes to make room for more writers who are still searching for that passage from manuscript to reader.

“We look forward to publish at least six titles in the next year,” he says.