Black Friday Isn’t for Us

Every year the same thing happens: the world starts yelling about Black Friday as if we’re all supposed to drop what we’re doing and sprint into the digital stampede. Ads everywhere. Timers ticking. A whole economy built on convincing people they’re one purchase away from feeling better.

The truth? Black Friday makes my skin crawl.

At Sunday Mornings at the River, we’re skipping it again this year. Not because we think we’re better than anyone. Not because we expect applause. But simply because the whole performance doesn’t fit who we are or how we work.

We’re a tiny press held together by art, stubbornness, spreadsheets, and my nursing wages. We don’t inflate prices just to slash them later. We don’t pretend books have “limited-time value.” And we’re not going to pressure people into buying something fast because a banner says so.

Our books are affordable all year. Not Black Friday cheap — just genuinely reachable. That’s the whole point.

And honestly, boycotting Black Friday is partly self-preservation. The noise of it all, the frenzy, the way people get pulled into spending money they don’t have — I don’t want to contribute to that. I grew up working-class. I know what it feels like when every advertisement is engineered to poke your insecurities.

So this weekend we won’t be running a sale. We won’t be shouting over anyone.

We won’t be spending money ourselves either — we planned for that. A quiet protest in the form of doing nothing at all.

If you want one of our books, it’ll cost the same next week. Or next month. Or next year. There’s no trick. No pressure. Just books made with care, priced so people don’t have to wait for a flash sale to afford them.

We’re not saving the world by skipping Black Friday.

We’re just staying consistent with the kind of press we are: slow, steady, transparent, stubborn in the right ways.

And honestly?

That feels good enough.