It’s long been said that “everyone has a book in them”. A literary magazine estimates that half the population is busy planning a magnum opus and the 46,000 full manuscripts submitted to Richard and Judy’s writing competition last year seems to bear that out. The trouble is that for all this crazed scribbling, it’s recently become much more difficult to get published.

“Bookshops are reserving their shelf space for bestsellers,” says Debbie Taylor, editor of women’s writing magazine Mslexia, “and it’s left publishers no choice but to throttle back on the number of titles they accept.”

In reaction to this, one form of book production is firmly on the rise: self-publishing. The last few months have seen the arrival of a host of services, each promising to be cheap, easy and effective.

BookSurge is an online company that aims to guide writers through the self-publishing rigmarole. Then there is Macmillan’s New Writing scheme, in which hand-picked authors are published for free, but with no advance or editorial help.

But perhaps most revolutionary is another online package, Lulu.com, a free print-on- demand service. Through the site’s technology anyone can download his or her text, format it, add a cover and begin selling a professional-looking book immediately through the site. There is no initial print run — on receiving an online order, a single copy is produced and sent out, with the author getting up to 80% of the royalties.

Launched in Britain last month it has attracted 100,000 unknown writers throughout America, pumping out such classics as How to Cook a Peacock (which has sold 32 copies) and Ten Crochet Dude Dishcloths.

The question is: is there any point to all this production? Despite self-publishing’s fairly illustrious history (Mark Twain, Virginia Woolf and Roddy Doyle all opted for this approach at some point in their careers) it has often been derided as the last resort of rejected and dejected unknowns.

Other than the author’s mother, is anyone likely to buy or take notice of any of these books? The tentative answer is yes. There is a growing recognition that rather than a last resort, self-publishing can be a prime way of showcasing work.

Most prominent of the recent success stories is G P Taylor. A self-professed “fat, 43-year-old vicar” he published his children’s fantasy novel, Shadowmancer, in 2002, aiming to sell “about 200 copies” through the local independent bookshop.

One reader sent a copy to The Times, which declared the book Hotter than Potter. Taylor was then snapped up by a publisher, and Shadowmancer topped the British book charts for 15 weeks. Between his book deals (he’s signed up to write 11 books) and film rights Taylor is set to make £12m.

Roderick Gordon, author of another children’s novel, The Highfield Mole, started the project after years working in corporate finance. He decided early on to self-publish. He has recently been signed up by a leading agent, Peter Straus.

“I heard so many terrible stories about people sending out their work and being rejected that I just didn’t want to enter such a demoralising process,” he says. “To anyone considering this, I would say that it takes a lot of time and money (among other costs, he employed a PR firm) and that you have to be really committed.”

The biggest boom in self- publishing may be from enthusiasts, whose niche subjects — the history of the pinball machine or the insect life of Crete — would not interest big publishing houses but will attract a like-minded audience on the net.

Lulu.com’s creator, Bob Young, says he expects it to become like eBay, “which exists alongside the traditional auction industry without hurting it — people still go to Sotheby’s for their Monets or Picassos. What we’re tapping into is another market, what you could call a lower market, which like eBay might even eventually be worth more than the traditional publishing business”.