Behind the Curtain: My KDP Publishing Nightmare

When I decided to publish The Adventure in the Magical World, I envisioned a straightforward process:

Oh, sweet summer child that I was.

What actually happened bears little resemblance to this tidy checklist. The rose-colored marketing copy on KDP’s website suggests you can “publish in minutes and your book appears on Amazon in 24-72 hours.”

Technically true. Also wildly misleading.

What they don’t mention is that those 72-hour periods stack and multiply like some kind of temporal pyramid scheme. Each format (eBook, paperback, hardcover) has its own separate 72-hour clock. Each technical issue? Another 72 hours. Need a correction implemented? You guessed it — 72 more hours.

By week two, I found myself drafting emails to parents explaining why the book I’d promised for Christmas might now be a “New Year’s surprise.”

Not exactly the professional author experience I’d imagined.

My journey began with the eBook format, which I’d assumed would be the simplest. The manuscript was properly formatted, the cover designed to specifications, and all requirements checked and double-checked by my publisher and her team.

I uploaded everything on a Thursday, expecting the book to go live by Monday. Monday came and went. Then Tuesday. By Wednesday, I contacted KDP support.

“Please allow 72 hours for the review process,” came the predictable response.

When the eBook finally went live, it arrived with a problem that would become emblematic of my entire KDP experience: the cover was missing.

Despite being properly uploaded (and visible in my KDP dashboard), the Amazon sales page displayed nothing but an empty placeholder where my beautiful cover should have been.

Another support request. Another 72 hours for “the technical team to investigate.”

When I checked back after the designated waiting period? You guessed it — the issue remained unsolved, and I was told to wait (you’ll never believe this) 72 MORE HOURS.

The worst part? At one point, I was actually blamed for not uploading the cover correctly, despite evidence to the contrary.

This led me to start taking screenshots of every single step of the process, a habit I wish I’d implemented on day one.

While battling the invisible eBook cover, I simultaneously embarked on the paperback publishing process.

This is where things went from frustrating to truly maddening.

My publisher and her formatter, seasoned professionals who had prepared countless books for KDP, formatted my manuscript exactly to KDP specifications. Yet the KDP Previewer kept rejecting it with vague “issues.”

First, we were told the text margins were incorrect (they weren’t).

“Fix this problem, and you’ll be fine,” a support representative assured me.

We adjusted the margins, though they were already correct, and resubmitted. The previewer now claimed the illustrations weren’t formatted for bleed (they were, meticulously so).

“No, the text is fine. It’s the illustrations that are the problem,” said the next representative, directly contradicting the first.

(He also told me that if the problem happened again, I could use the code he gave me and speak with the Review Team. More on the Review Team in a moment.)

After fixing the non-existent illustration issue, we were informed, “Oh, no. The text and illustrations are okay. It’s the page numbers that are the problem.”

This whack-a-mole game of phantom formatting issues continued for weeks. Each “fix” led to a new “problem” that hadn’t been flagged in previous reviews.

I began to wonder if I was caught in some kind of publishing version of The Twilight Zone.

During this process, I learned about KDP’s “Review Team” — supposedly the higher authority who could intervene when the automated system created problems. Perfect! I would appeal to them.

Now remember, that’s exactly what I was told — that if the problem persisted, I could appeal to the Review Team directly!

Except I couldn’t.

“You cannot appeal to the Review Team if there are issues with your manuscript,” I was told. “The Review Team only handles manuscripts with no issues.”

Let that sink in. You can only appeal when you don’t need to appeal.

This Catch-22 left me in publishing purgatory. I couldn’t fix issues that didn’t actually exist, and I couldn’t appeal to have human eyes verify that these “issues” were system errors.

I came very close to ordering shirts that read “I HATE KDP!” — a sentiment I found myself expressing with increasing frequency during support chats. The poor representatives, who were usually kind and trying to be helpful, were limited by the system they worked within.

Just when I was ready to abandon the entire project, a small miracle occurred. After yet another upload attempt with literally no changes to the file (because there was nothing to fix), the previewer suddenly accepted the paperback.

I still don’t know why. Same file. Same specifications. Different result.

I immediately requested proof copies of both paperback and hardcover, half-expecting another mysterious delay. To my shock, they arrived within days — faster than any digital process had moved during this entire journey.

Opening that package and holding my book — a real, physical copy with perfect margins, properly positioned illustrations, and correctly placed page numbers — was surreal. All those “issues” that had supposedly plagued my manuscript were nowhere to be found in the actual printed book.

The validation was both sweet and infuriating. The system had been wrong all along, but I’d had no recourse except persistent resubmission until the capricious algorithm decided to permit my perfectly formatted book.

With the paperback approved and the eBook (finally) displaying its cover, I thought my troubles were over.

I was wrong. The hardcover became its own special challenge.

Despite using the exact same interior file that had been approved for the paperback, the hardcover was rejected for — I couldn’t make this up — margin issues.

I had already received the hardcover proof copy, which looked perfect. I had physically measured the margins with a ruler. They were identical to the paperback and well within KDP’s requirements.

None of this mattered to the KDP system, which continued to insist that the hardcover margins were problematic, despite approving the identical paperback file.

After two months, countless emails, and more “72 hour” waiting periods than I care to count, all three formats of my book were finally available on Amazon. The promised “Christmas delivery” had become more of a “Valentine’s surprise,” but the book was published.

Here’s what I learned that might help you avoid some of my pain:

1. Triple your timeline expectations — Whatever timeframe you imagine, multiply it by three to account for unexpected delays and review periods.

2. Document everything — Take screenshots of every successful upload, every confirmation page, and every error message.

3. Be stubborn but polite — KDP representatives want to help, but they’re limited by their system. Persistence (and the occasional strategic resubmission of unchanged files) sometimes breaks through.

4. Budget for contingencies — If you’re promising your book by a specific date, build in extensive buffer time.

5. Find a community — Other KDP authors understand these struggles and often have workarounds that support staff can’t officially recommend.

Most importantly, remember that the frustrations of the publishing process will fade, but your published book will remain.

Despite everything, seeing The Adventure in the Magical World available to readers worldwide makes the struggle worthwhile.

Despite my moments of KDP-induced rage, the answer is yes.

Having my book available worldwide, accessible to readers through the largest bookstore on the planet, is amazing. The joy of sharing my story with students and seeing their reactions to characters they helped inspire makes the technical headaches fade into the background.

Would I use KDP again? Yes, but with adjusted expectations, a much longer timeline, and perhaps a dedicated stress-relief corner in my office.

Self-publishing is a marathon, not a sprint. KDP is not the smooth, effortless process its marketing suggests, but it does get your book out there. For many authors, that opportunity is worth the frustrations along the way.