The Sunk Cost Fallacy and Why I’ll Walk Away from a Book Project

Before I went on vacation, I had a disagreement with a client. It wasn’t an angry disagreement. Nobody was calling names or threatening lawsuits. It was one of those moments every freelancer encounters where expectations collide with reality.

The project seemed straightforward. The client was reissuing two books with new covers and wanted updated interiors to match. During our initial consultation, I walked them through my workflow and asked the same questions I always ask: Were there any special requirements? Were there examples they wanted me to follow? Were there elements from the previous editions that they wanted preserved?

Nope.

They agreed with my recommendation to create clean, modern layouts that would feel fresh alongside the new covers. After the consultation, I sent a scope of work outlining exactly what I’d deliver: two print-ready PDF interiors and two EPUB 2.0.1 reflowable ebooks. The client approved the proposal.

One thing I’ve learned over the years is that assumptions are expensive. When clients don’t provide detailed design direction, I don’t disappear for two weeks and hope for the best. I usually send sample chapters once I have the basic design established. It gives clients a chance to react before I’ve invested dozens of hours in a layout they hate.

The sample chapters went out.

The client approved them.

I finished the books.

Then the emails started coming in saying that certain sections shouldn’t look the way I’d formatted them. They should look more like the previous edition. This was news to me. The previous edition had never been provided as a reference. During our consultation, nobody mentioned preserving the structure or appearance of the earlier book. If anything, the conversation centered around modernizing the interiors.

Clients sometimes discover what they want by seeing what they don’t want. That’s part of the process. So I made the requested changes. Then we found the real problem.

The client uploaded one of the ebook files to Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) and discovered the previous edition had been published as a fixed-layout EPUB 3.0 title. KDP doesn’t allow publishers to switch certain existing listings from fixed-layout formats to reflowable formats after publication.

The client expected me to provide a fixed-layout ebook. I pointed back to the signed scope of work. The agreement called for EPUB 2.0.1 reflowable ebooks. That’s what I delivered. The files were functional and usable on KDP and other ebook distribution platforms. If they needed fixed-layout versions, I’d be happy to create them for additional compensation.

The client disagreed, and that’s where things got interesting.

At first glance, this sounds like an article about contracts, scopes of work, or ebooks. It isn’t. It’s an article about the sunk cost fallacy. The sunk cost fallacy occurs when we continue investing time, money, or effort into something because we’ve already invested in it.

The classic example is someone sitting through a terrible movie because they already paid for the ticket. The money is gone whether they stay or leave. The fallacy happens when they convince themselves they need to suffer through another hour because otherwise the first hour was “wasted.”

Freelancers run into the same trap. By the time this issue surfaced, I had already invested a significant amount of time in the project. I’d spend an hour for consulting. The layouts were complete. The ebooks were complete. Revisions had been made. Emails had been exchanged. I wasn’t looking at a five-minute fix. I was looking at additional work outside the original agreement.

That’s when the little voice starts talking.

You’ve already spent this much time.

What’s a few hours?

You don’t want an unhappy client.

You don’t want conflict.

Just get it done and move on.

The problem is that sunk costs often masquerade as practical business decisions. They sound reasonable and client-focused. What they’re really asking is whether you want to throw more resources into a situation because you’ve already thrown resources into it.

The hours you’ve already spent aren’t part of the decision anymore. They’re history. The only thing that matters is whether the next hour is a good investment.

That’s an uncomfortable realization because freelancers sell time. We feel every hour personally. When you’ve spent twenty or thirty hours building something, walking away feels like giving up.

But sometimes continuing is a bigger defeat.

Over the years, I’ve found that scope creep rarely travels alone. It tends to arrive alongside unclear communication, shifting expectations, and a growing belief that agreements are optional. A client who wants one exception often discovers a second, then a third. Before long, you’re no longer completing a project. You’re trying to earn approval that keeps moving farther away. That’s not a business strategy. That’s a stress management problem.

In this particular case, I stuck to the agreement. I delivered the work I’d promised. I offered additional services at an additional cost. When that wasn’t acceptable, I accepted that the project had reached its natural conclusion.

Did I lose time?

Absolutely.

The hours I’d spent on the layouts and ebooks weren’t coming back. The client wasn’t happy. I wasn’t thrilled with how things ended either. There wasn’t a satisfying movie ending where everybody shook hands and learned a valuable lesson.

What I avoided was spending additional time trying to solve a problem that wasn’t mine. The client didn’t know what they needed and made it my problem. When that happens with any client, it’s time to punch out. When a client won’t see a mistake they’ve made, moving forward will only expose their toxicity. You’ll be drinking their poison and begging to do so.

That’s the part people miss about the sunk cost fallacy. The money, time, and effort you’ve already invested aren’t part of the decision anymore. They’re gone whether you continue or not.

The only thing you control is the next investment. Sometimes the best business decision a freelancer can make is refusing to spend another hour rescuing a project that stopped being reasonable several emails ago. Your mental health will thank you for saying, “No, we’re done.”

Only you know where that point is. You’re not a loser. You will get other gigs. More importantly, once you allow your boundaries to become porous, you’re setting yourself up for future failure.

My website: www.briankannard.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/briankannard/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61579818699044

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/briankannard/