How to Respond When Someone Asks You To Write for Free

or: Don't Say "No," Ask for Dough

"You're a doctor?" says the person you've just met. "That's great! I thought about practicing medicine, but I just didn't have the time, you know? Hey--"

Here, they lift up their shirt, baring more than you wanted to see, especially at the grocery check-out / wedding reception / gas pump.

"I've got this pus-filled invasive weeping sore. How about you remove it for me?"

You tell them you'd be happy to do the job -- just call your office and make an appointment.

The shirt comes down. The scowl comes out. "An appointment? Pay you! You should be honored I asked. It would be good exposure for your practice. Hey -- I'll tell ya what. Do it for free, and when I make modern medical history, I'll split whatever money I get from the AMA."

Mmmm-hmmm...

No.

If you have difficulty imagining that scenario, then you are probably not a writer. Because we writers live countless versions of this Every Dang Day.

This summer, a writer friend whose novel is currently shortlisted for a veddy prestigious prize had an exchange that went something like this:

Movie Maker Acquaintance: I'm looking for my next project. Thought I'd do your book. What do you say?

Whoa, Tiger! All this talk of fundage harshes my creative mellow.

Writer: Sounds interesting. What option terms did you have in mind? Send me a contract and I'll consider it.

MMA: Whoa, Tiger! Who said anything about contracts or money? Sheesh! I thought it might be nice for you to work with a friend on a fun project. I'm not a mercenary like some people.

Whoa, Tiger indeed. For reasons that escape me, people who would never dream of asking an electrician friend to re-wire their house have no such qualms about asking a writer to make her skills available gratis.

Too often when writers suggest that they expect to be compensated for their time and expertise, they hear: "I can't pay you, but it'll be great exposure."

Exposure: not what it's cracked up to be.

No.

Writers know: Money pays the heating bills. A person can die of exposure.

I know writers who refuse to tell other people what they do because of the inevitable "OmiGod! You should totally write my story. I don't know the first thing about publishing, but it's a great story, sure to be a bestseller. OmiGOD! I just had the best idea ever! You should totally write it for me and we can split the money it'll be great! It all started with a dream I had in 1987--"

We don't want to be rude. We don't want to say, "That is the worst story I've ever heard" or "Pleasepleaseplease don't tell me about your horrible childhood" or "You lost me at 'the day the aliens abducted me.'" But believe me when I say -- and this is important -- NO MATTER WHAT THE STORY IS, NO WRITER WANTS TO WRITE IT FOR FREE.

So.

If, as a writer, you ever find yourself accosted by the equivalent of a pus-filled sore asking a doctor for freebie surgery, there is no need to get offended, nor are you obliged to listen to the entire "write my story" pitch. There is a way out. Act like the professional you are. Here is a handy script to help:

Thanks for thinking of me. If you're serious, I would be happy to talk to you more in-depth about this project at a later time. Expect a project of this magnitude to take 6 to 9 months for completion. For work of this nature, I charge $60,000*. One-third is payable up front. One-third is due when the first draft is completed. The final installment is due me upon delivery of the completed manuscript. I make no guarantees that the work will be published when it's complete: it's your story; that's up to you. Would you like me to draw up a contract and we'll get to work?

* Here in the Midwest, 60 K is a nice tidy sum of money that makes most projects worth a writer's while, should someone decide to retain their services. In areas of the country where living expenses are more aggressive, make it $160,000. The point is: don't be in a hurry to say "no." Remember that not writing someone's story for free isn't personal -- it's business.

Publishing's Perplexing Pickle Problem

Tom Vanderbilt, in the June issue of Smithsonian magazine, opens his article on the science of taste with a fascinating tale of Howard Moskowitz, a psychophysicist whom Vlassic once tapped to solve the mystery of the Perfect Pickle. The ensuing taste test yielded surprisingly tongue-twisting results:

People primarily picked pickles that packed a more powerful punch than predicted.

Now THAT's a spicy pickle!

When Vlassic applied its research and rolled out a "zesty" pickle, their sales skyrocketed.

"That people in the pickle business should not know what pickle consumers prefer is a reminder of just how difficult it is to tease out the vagaries of why we like what we like," Vanderbilt writes -- a statement as applicable to publishing as it is to pickles.

A friend once worked as a sub-agent for a respected boutique literary agency. She has a good eye for what makes a great story (I'm not just saying that because she loves my stuff), and can critique a blue streak. Her job as sub-agent was to mine the slush pile, searching for the gold nuggets in a cesspool of dross.

While at the agency, she discovered three manuscripts with writing she loved. Two of them told stories she loved as well. The story of the third was darker and at odds with her personal beliefs, though there was no denying the author's skill.

She took her three recommendations to the agency owner, who rejected the two favorites for all the reasons the newbie sub-agent was crazy for them. The third, however, the agency owner adored. Everything in the story that my friend disliked, the agency owner raved about. The difference of opinion was so great that when the agency made an offer of representation, my friend left because she couldn't in good conscience build a career promoting that book.

The coda to the story? The manuscript in question went on to be a huge hit. But the two writers whose work resonated with the then-sub-agent remain unpublished. My friend follows their social media personas, hoping they stick things out till they have publishing success.

This seems like a good place to wait for the bus.

Does the agent know her stuff? Obviously. But who's to say that the differently spiced manuscripts wouldn't also have found a readership?

Not long ago, a writer friend shared with me a rejection she received from a publisher of genre fiction. Though full of raves about her voice, her story, and her style, it's devastating because it's still a "NO." It's such a close no that it's the publishing equivalent of being left at the altar.

The rejection (which was very kind, as far as soul-crushing "no's" go) detailed a list of "shoulds" for any book the publisher acquired.

• The protagonist should have this experience by page 10...
• By page 25, this plot point should occur...
• The protagonist and antagonist should explore their different philosophies in this manner...

And so on.

Now, don't get me wrong: the publisher knows its audience. And the publisher will only stay in business as long as it provides what the audience wants.

I wonder, however, how many "taste tests" are conducted to ascertain that what publishers think should happen must happen in order for a book to be palatable to the public.  

Perhaps -- just perhaps -- people would be willing to try something different, but are served a steady diet of same old, same old.

See, I've read the draft of the rejected manuscript and while not a fan of this particular genre of fiction, I've read enough of it to be familiar with the "rules." The manuscript in question bends the rules a bit, but doesn't mangle them beyond recognition. I found it refreshing, enjoying it far more than the fare that adheres slavishly to What Should Be. Is it not possible that such books might attract a whole new legion of fans to the genre? But since printing *any* book by a new author is risky business, few publishers have the luxury of adding to their risk by taking extra chances. Far safer to eschew Zesty for Tried and True.

A dark flip side also colors the prickly pickle of publishing. It is this: writers fortunate enough to have their books attract a dedicated readership are sometimes held hostage by their own success. Fans tend to clamor for "more of the same" with such ferocity that many writers have traded quality for quantity. It's the industry's version of tenure.

A writer's first book has to be *AWESOME* in order to just get some poor schlub to pluck it from the pile o' slush. The sixth book, however, rarely measures up to the first book's kneecaps, let alone raising the bar to a new level.

I recently read Will Schwalbe's The End of Your Life Book Club, a warm and charming ode to great family relationships as well as to great books. At one point, Schwalbe, a long-time editor for major publishing houses, and his mother discuss what titles to jointly read next:

"Did you know this author has a new book? What do you think?" Mom might ask.
"I didn't love his last four or five," I might answer.
"Well then, why did you keep reading him?"
"I edited them."

You see the briny problem?

In order to break in to the well-barricaded world of traditional publishing, one must write something so wonderful that someone forgets to say "no" to it.

But then there comes a time when all the zesty bits that first sold people on one's writing have had the flavor wrung from them. Words that once cracked and popped, igniting the reader's literary palate, now swim limp and vinegary on the page. If a writer is not encouraged to take chances, to branch out, to bend rules, or to try tasty new combinations, soon the creative stream is dammed to clear the way for cash flow.

The pickle people were once surprised to discover their customers were not only willing to try something new, but were also eager to make it a bestseller. Imagine how similar daring could re-zestify the books we read!

Is it Money You Need? Really...?

The publishing world was all atwitter last week at the news that Penguin filed lawsuits with the New York Supreme Court against 12 authors. The publisher charges that the authors in question did not deliver the books they were contracted to write and demands the return of not only the advance for the books, but also a significant chunk of change for "interest" on the monies in question.

Ah, Ben. How I wish we were better acquainted...

In short, Penguin is trying to re-collect over $412,000 of advance money and tacking on an additional $138,500 for interest. Which begs several questions -- not the least of which is where the heck does Penguin invest, and how do I get me some of that action?

This will be interesting to watch play out. On the one hand, I firmly believe that if a writer signs a contract he or she cannot honor, any money advanced for the project in question should be returned. Writers rarely get paid enough for work they have done, let alone get paid for work they haven't. If you want to get paid for NOT doing stuff you said you would do, you should be in another profession. Like politics.

On the other, after extensive searching of my book-writing contracts, I find no mention of any "pay us back with interest" clause which my publisher could invoke if feeling especially pissy.

Oh, sure, there's language that says I'm obligated to turn in Project X that follows certain mutually-agreed-upon parameters and to do so at a mutually-agreed-upon time. Failure on my part would result in my being obligated to return the portion of the advance already paid out. But nowhere does my contract say anything about my responsibility to invest my advance in such a way as to afford my publisher a 20 - 33% return on it.

Every day, I read the blogs and tweets of writers who seem to believe that what they really need is a publisher to throw money at them, which will then make all their dreams come true. (Variations of this theme exist, beginning with "I need an agent" at one end of the spectrum and "When my book makes me rich and famous" at the other, but it is pervasive.)

What these writers don't realize is that book advance money doesn't buy you respectability, talent, or even a career. It merely buys you a little time. Occasionally (Praises be!) it puts food on your table and diapers on your kid's butt. More often, it's earmarked for things like publicity and promotion.

Advance money is a business partnership that makes you contractually obligated to get that book not just done, but done to the publisher's satisfaction. (If ghostwriting, make that "BOTH the expert's AND the publisher's satisfaction.")

It's also -- everyone involved hopes, with fingers crossed and breath bated -- money that will, if put to good use, prime the pump to spur sales so the book earns out its advance, thus (HAPPY DANCE ENSUES) earning both author and publisher more money.

So let me ask you... Right now, as far as your writing career is concerned: Is it money you need?

Really?

How would a five-figure advance impact your writing life in a meaningful, positive way? Would it make you take your career more seriously? If so, why? What would a sudden influx of cash allow you to do that you aren't already doing?

Would it make you more productive?

Would it make you more seriously approach growing a solid readership and fan base?

Would it make you write every dang day -- no excuses -- until that manuscript was pitch-perfect?

Would it make you feel validated as a writer? As if you had finally "made it?"

If you're saying Yes! Yes! A thousand times Yes! well butter my behind and call me a biscuit, but that's an awful lot of clout to give to a few pieces paper, innit?

Truth is, lack of money is often a crutch, a widely accepted excuse for not doing what one is perfectly able to do regardless of funding. A five-figure advance -- which includes all of the advances cited in the Penguin lawsuit -- isn't enough for a person to quit his or her day job. It's a nice shot in the arm of liquidity, true. But living advance to advance is still the writer's equivalent of living paycheck to paycheck. Is that what you need?

Lest you misunderstand, I'm all in favor of advances. The bigger the better. Especially those that come on checks with my name written on them. They mean that a publisher has ponied up the dough, put a marketing team on alert, and is joining forces with me to get this book done.

But I'm equally in favor of small (or no) advances. They mean that as soon as the book starts selling, I start collecting royalties immediately instead of waiting for the book to earn out its advance.

I can't speak for all writers, but I don't need money to write a book. I'm perfectly happy to do the work first and then get paid. Big advances don't make me a successful writer any more than big diamonds make a successful marriage. Some of the work that I'm proudest of has earned far less than just fair-to-middling stuff I earned top dollar for.

I'd be a hypocrite if I said I didn't care if I got paid for my work. However, money is not what drives me. I daresay, it's not what drives most writers.

What, pray tell, drives you? What is it you need... really?

It's a Living: Q & A on Making Money as a Writer w/ Yi Shun Lai

I am so happy to introduce my readers to Yi Shun Lai. 

Yi Shun Lai (http://www.thegooddirt.org) has been a writer and editor for over 15 years. She's written or edited for The Los Angeles Times, the Christian Science Monitor, the J. Peterman catalog, and Audubon magazine. She makes her living writing corporate copy and executing content strategy. 

She writes literary essays and short fiction and is the fiction editor for the Los Angeles Review (http://www.redhen.org/losangelesreview). She is currently earning her MFA at the Northwest Institute of Literary Arts (http://www.nila.edu). She tweets as @GoodDirt.

I am grateful that Yi Shun graciously agreed to answer a few questions about the art of making a living from one's words.

Q: What are some of the most common misconceptions you encounter when people hear that you are a writer?

1. "That's a real job?"
2. "What do you do to make money?"
3. "For a magazine or a newspaper?"

A1. YES.
A2. I write.
A3. Every kind of printed or digital media; it's not mutually exclusive; and those aren't the only options.

Q: What sort of groundwork or foundation would you advise a writer to lay before expecting to see much income from one's writing? 

Have a portfolio ready to show people.  A couple of good clips can go a long way.

Know your basic skills, like who to talk to and how to query each media outlet: If you're querying someone about populating their social media feed, you need to know who's in charge of managing that part of the company, and what they're looking to do. If you're looking to write for a hyper-local news source, be ready to show the editor things they'll want to see, like blog posts about the community you want to write for. If you're trying to get into the copywriting gig or journalism and you don't have clips, be ready to do some work on speculation--that means you won't get paid for the work if the company doesn't take it, but at least you'll have your foot in the door.

And for God's sake, know your grammar and your basic rules of punctuation. Something as basic as that can set you apart from the pack.

Network. Get to know your fellow writers and editors, from people who write advertising copy to folks who write literary essays.

Know your worth. Don't sell your words short.

Q: Is it all about the bottom line? Or are there instances where giving one's expertise away can help a writer's career?

It's definitely not just about the bottom line. A long time ago other writers bought me meals and gave away their expertise. I take their example and do the same things for other beginning writers. Our community may feel large, but word gets around. Being selfish with your knowledge, expertise, and connections will get you nowhere.

Beyond that, though, let's take this situation: If an editor for a magazine approaches me because I've written for her before, that's always a good thing. If she asks me to write an article about a story I have no background or experience in covering, that's flattering, but it also might be a recipe for disaster. It's more than likely I'll know someone else who has better experience--and connections--in that field. So I make the introduction. And now the editor's happy because she's got another writer in her stable; the other writer is happy because she has a new story to cover, and I'm happy because I could facilitate the connection. But further down the line, the editor will think of me as a trustworthy source, and the other writer will think of me when she comes across a story she may not be able to cover.

On a more quotidian scale, things like joining a LinkedIn group that focuses on writing and editing will help you to share your knowledge. Answering questions for others boosts your expertise, and that's a really good thing: You may show up more often in searches that prospective editors or employers are conducting for writers.

Q: What are some things writers do that can jeopardize their income potential?

There are those writers who are unwilling to try new things. That's never a good move. Stretch your wings; see language in all of its different applications.

Q: What are some ways a writer can maximize his or her income?

Know what your value is: Don't sell yourself short.

Take the time to do it right the first time, even if you're writing 300-word blog posts or 140-character tweets. Every. Word. Counts.

Remember, too, that the things you write, from the tweet to the educational or technical article, can be re-crafted. I don't mean to imply that you should re-sell the same article over and over (your contract will preclude that, anyway), but you should take the knowledge you've gained from working on that article or in that field and parlay it into something new.

Q: What are some things a writer can do RIGHT NOW to improve his or her writing-related income?

Make sure you're updating your online profile consistently. If you've written something new, tell your network, even if it's just on Facebook and you're just telling your pals.

Start exploring things you're interested in: companies who sell the things you enjoy or media outlets that cover what you love to do might just be in need of writers or editors.

Sharpen up your editing skills. And, if you're terrible at timeliness, start working on that. Now.

And read. Start seeing everything as a potential place to practice your writing skills.

What is your favorite tip for maximizing your writing worth? Comment, please!

Free Writing (by Guest Blogger Sharon C. Williams)

Jasper, one of Sharon's Muses.

MuseInks welcomes Sharon C. Williams (@NewEngland_Muse)! Sharon is a sports fan, chemistry buff, novice crocheter, and animal-lover. [Just ask her about her birds!] She blogs at The Musings of a New Englander. 

Sharon & I exchanged a series of emails about her decision to publish some of her stuff for free -- a decision I supported, but which many writers frown upon. I asked if she'd share her reasons for "giving it away." She very graciously agreed. Thanks, Sharon!

I have been seriously writing since the Fall of 2009. It had not occurred to me to write as a  career. After all, that was for people who were serious, who had talent and skill. That was surely not me.  What did I know about writing?   

Then a friend told me that my husband had told her he felt I wrote rather well (a fact he had not shared with me). This thought rattled in my brain for a while. A few months later a story started forming in my mind. I kept telling myself I was going to put down, but just never did -- until the Fall of 2009 when I had two surgeries, unrelated to each other, within 3 weeks of each other. 

Since I had some newfound time on my hands, I started to write.  Once I started, it seemed the words would not stop flowing.  The more I wrote, the more confidence I felt in what I was putting down on paper.

Joining a writer's group in town motivated me to write more on the things I came across.  I varied from children's book, memoirs, personal essay, mystery and drama. I did not define myself to just one set box.  What happened soon was notebooks filled with short stories that ranged as wide as a rainbow with its colors.   

Then came my subscription to Writer's Digest. That magazine changed my life, for in one of its articles was an author who talked about social media and how to use it to further one's writings.  She  left her Twitter name and that was my road to an amazing new world. A world where authors, editors, publishers, printing houses met, chat, supported and helped each other in the facets of writing.  I was blown over. 

I was not an unknown writer to them. I was someone who reminded them of where they once were (or where they were right now).  It compelled me to write more than ever.   

But with writing comes editing -- something that I am not good at.   

The great part of social media is the people you meet. If they don't know the answer, they know someone who just might. 

At that point I had written 3 books which required editing of some nature. I had written the second part of my children's book as well as a collection of short stories.  This was all well and good, but not when they needed some editing.

During the early part of last year, I contacted a publisher to ask about his pricing for editorial services. Even when I knew I could not afford it, we stayed in touch. 

A few months ago, he approached me requesting the use of some of my work. He was putting together an ebook of short stories. He would pay for the art cover, the editing and all of that. The book would be offered for free to download as a promotional gig, so there would be no money made on this for him or for me. I would maintain the copyrights to my stories; he would just get to use them this one time. In return for my involvement, the book would include my bio, mentions of my WIPs (works in progress), and ways to contact me.

I was ecstatic, to say the least, until a person told me that if I was not getting paid then it was not worth my participation.  I was miffed at first, for I could not understand how anyone could view this as anything but good. I tended to think a different way:

Download the free ebook.

I am a new writer trying to get her books out. I have three manuscripts. One is edited. The others are not. I have two short stories that will be published in a book my local library has received a grant to publish. So, soon I will have 4 short stories in print. To say I am giddy is truly an understatement. 

This all happened the week of Thanksgiving and still, when I think about it, I just smile from ear to ear.  I refuse to let the naysayer bring me down. I am proud of myself. It just shows that even if you are unknown it does not mean your work won't find an audience. It is all how you view it.

Ebooks are opening a whole new venue for artists across the board  Making our mark is not easy when we are new and exposure, exposure, and exposure is what is needed. So I say poo poo at that person who thinks it is not worth it for me to allow my stories to be put into print. I refuse to let the negativity of that remark stop me. I have to start somewhere. I view this opportunity from the publisher as my first step. 

At least now, when I do my query letters, I can now say I am published here and there.  Furthermore, there will be a few publishers who will be able to see my stories learn about my next project. Maybe they will see something they are interested in or maybe they will know someone that might be interested in my works. 

Where I stand, this is win, win, and a win.

What do you think? Should a writer EVER allow his or her work to be published without payment? How valuable is exposure? What has your experience been? Chime in below and let me know.

Cake or Death?

St. Joseph native James Frey is back in the publishing news again. He's the literary establishment's equivalent of Brittney Spears or Levi Johnston: tabloid fodder guaranteed to generate controversy.

(Long-term readers may remember my Frey-based rants back in 2006 when fallout from his fictitious memoir hit the proverbial fan and when Oprah lambasted him for lying. I mentioned him again last May when Oprah reversed her earlier decision and apologized to Frey for saying that his lying to her was a bad thing. I have nothing against Mr. Frey. Honestly. It's just that he keeps doing stuff that merits... discussion.)

Yesterday's post brings us up to speed on Frey's latest Death-By-Dishonor venture: the book packaging company and intellectual property black hole of Full Fathom Five.

Their motto should be: "Why Should You Profit From Your Words if We Can Instead?"

For a fascinating dissection of Full Fathom Five's contract, see YA Writer Maureen Johnson's blog post that also takes prestigious MFA programs to task for graduating students gullible (or desperate) enough to sign such a contract.

Here's the thing: James Frey is not evil. He may be a huckster, a liar, and a fraud, but he is not holding a gun to the heads of these writers and forcing them to sign their lives away. He's only capitalizing on inherent flaws in a system that includes self-appointed gatekeepers and elevates platforms over merit.

This is the system that publishes Snooki's novel and the "memoir" of 16 year old Justin Bieber.

It's the system that puts a multitude of "Cat Who" books in print when every reader and writer knows that if an unpublished author were to submit any one of the last 10 titles in the series for publication, they would meet with instant and unequivocal rejection.

It's a system built upon desperation. And Full Fathom Five's stable of overtalented, underpaid, uberdesperate writers only shows what the going rate for "desperate to be published" is.

$250.

I am not disparaging work-for-hire writing contracts. Far from it. The first book I ever wrote that got into print was a write-for-hire. I made enough money writing it to put food on my family's table. It gave me the opportunity to work with a brilliant horse trainer. It introduced me to a wonderful group of publishing professionals. It provided the impetus that drove several other book deals that weren 't write-for-hire.

However, in the past year, I turned down a "sure thing" ghostwriting project. The book would have been published. I would have had the chance to work with a legend in his field. I would have made significantly more than $250. But it wouldn't have been enough to live on.

Since I know how much time it takes me to write a book from scratch start to polished end, the project literally would have paid me pennies per hour. I suggested a more equitable compensation for my time, but our numbers were too disparate.

So we parted ways (amiably) and moved on.

The brilliant comedian Eddie Izzard has a classic routine in which he asks "Cake or Death?"



Obviously, if given the choice, no one in his or her right mind would choose "death." But one could easily substitute the words "creative career or Frey cook?" Evidently, at least 28 would choose the second option.

As long as there are writers desperate for publication, there will be people ready and willing to exploit their talents. In any case, someone's going to make a killing.

Full Fathom Five: Thy Father Lies

or Why Writers Should Shy Away from Signing With Death

Last week, both the Wall Street Journal and New York Magazine took a long look at St. Joseph homeboy James Frey.

WSJ's piece, written by Katherine Rosman and Lauren A. E. Schuker, is the kinder, gentler one. With some puzzlement, its final paragraph states, "There is still residual hostility toward Mr. Frey" for his 2006 antics in which he wrote a work of fiction and told the world it was true.

One can almost picture the WSJ staff scratching their heads at such ill will, for the rest of the piece focuses primarily on his financial successes ("His debut book... was named Amazon Book of the Year and has sold eight million copies in more than 30 languages") and on namedropping his current affiliates (Michael Bay, Stacey Snider, Steven Spielberg... The list of luminaries goes on and on.).

New York Magazine, in contrast, ran an "Emperor's New Clothes" style article in its Books section wherein Suzanne Mozes exposed the New-York Times bestselling writer's Full Fathom Five book packaging company.

The article explained how Frey trolled prestigious MFA programs in search of drones to do his dirty work writing. It painted a word portrait of a man who was intemperate, unapologetic, charismatic, and ballsy. It evoked nothing so much as a mental image of the Wicked Witch of the West auditioning flying monkey minions.



According to both articles, Frey is looking for talented writers to work for next to nothing creating content that he oversees. The contract they sign specifies that they will be paid in peanuts 2 installments of $250 each, if they're lucky. It also says that the writer's name may or may not appear as author and that Frey owns all content created for his company.

Understandably, the pieces provoked significant discussion among the publishing pros (writers, agents, publishers, and editors) I follow on Twitter. While all agree that Frey isn't technically doing anything illegal, few are condoning his actions. For it is painfully obvious to anyone even remotely affiliated with the publishing industry that Frey's business model is just the sort of thing your mother warned you about when you said you wanted to be a writer.

We writers spend much of our time writing words that will garner more rejection in a single month than Big Bang Theory's Howard Wolowitz will have to endure in a lifetime. So when someone comes along and suggests that we have talent, that he believes in us, and that he will get us published, it's enough to make us beg for a pen so we can sign a deal with the Devil Full Fathom Five.

Ah, how we imperil ourselves and our careers when we forget the classics. Of course, the whole situation smacks of Faust. But the name of Frey's company alone should engender feelings of panic and the desire to wash oneself thoroughly with germicide. It should sound nigglingly familiar to any writer worth his or her pay. For Shakespeare coined the phrase before Frey used it. In The Tempest, Ariel sings:

Full fathom five thy Father lies,
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a Sea-change
Into something rich & strange.
Sea-Nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong!
Hark! Now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.

In other words: Dad is dead and lost in the depths of the sea.

Which is where your self-esteem, your credibility, and, in all probability, your writing career will end up if you sign on Full Fathom Five's dotted line.

(In case you misunderstand me, I'm not at all against write-for-hire agreements. I have some experience with them, you see, and they have served me and my career well. Tomorrow's post will explore this topic further in "Cake or Death.")

What's your take on the Frey-for-all? Would you sign? What's the minimum amount you'd write for? Drop a comment below. But remember -- play nice.

Ghostly Thoughts on Money and Approval

From the In-Box:

Advice, Please, on Ghosting Payment & Copy Approval!

”I recently bought Authors Access: 30 Success Secrets for Authors and Publishers and read your article, "Exploring Ghostwriting, Co-Authoring, and Collaborating."

In the article, you mention some pointers about the writing contract used by ghostwriters etc. I have just ghosted a book with a contract that unfortunately now requires going to court to collect. The expert I wrote for seems to have no money to pay for my six months of writing, even though the book is completely finished.

Can you provide a copy of the contract you use? I am particularly interested in the clauses for gracefully exiting (in case I see this situation coming on another project in the future) and on defining what "satisfactory copy" is. This is the sticking point on this project.

I have been a writer for more than 25 years, with several trade paperbacks and a new one coming out in October. I've had some other experts look at what I've written on this project and they all say that it is highly professional work with a high sales potential. The expert has just said "I'm invoking the right to cancel the contract" (which is in my current contracts) and believes he is no longer obligated to pay for any of the work I've done on the book.

I want to make sure I don't repeat any mistakes in the future, so changing to a more iron-clad contract is the best solution.

Many thanks for any help you can give.

My Response

(Insert “Thank you for contacting me. I hope I can be of some use to you” introductory verbiage and cautionary words stipulating that I am not an attorney and am completely unqualified to give contract advice here.)

I don't use a standard contract. Each project I do has its own contract -- and no two have been the same.

Advice on Payment: Get Paid in Pieces

Most of the time I write under contract from the publisher. I share in the book's advance and in the royalties. My contract generally stipulates that I get paid in increments:

• Sometimes my payment comes in thirds: 1/3 of the agreed-upon advance monies upon signing, 1/3 upon ms. delivery, & 1/3 upon final sign-off of the galley proofs.
• Sometimes the pay is split in two: 1/2 upon contract signing & 1/2 upon ms. acceptance.

I never begin a job for a publisher without $$ up front and an at-will exit clause (which usually states something to the effect that either of us can get out of the contract for any reason w/ a 30-day written notice). I have never had to invoke the clause & have been fortunate that the publishers who've hired me have been financially solvent.

It sounds as if you have been doing work for hire. When I do that, my contract specifies EITHER my hourly rate with an estimated number of hours expected for project completion OR our agreed-upon price for my services.

If I am working hourly, I bill the client with an itemized statement twice a month. If the client has not paid before the next bill comes due, I re-bill. If that goes unpaid, work on the project comes to a screeching halt until the client’s check is received and has cleared the bank.

If I'm working on a flat rate, I get paid in pieces. I always insist upon a significant chunk of the price (usually 1/3 of the total) as a retainer up front. That eliminates the deadbeats fairly quickly. When the ms. is just over 1/2 done (according to word count or deadline) and the client has approved the project up to that point, I get another third. I get my final third when the ms. is done, but before I provide the client with the finished file.

I have no qualms about holding the entire manuscript "hostage" until I have been paid. But I've never had to do so.

Advice on Copy Approval: Spell Out What “Satisfactory” Means

As for "satisfactory copy," I provide clients with completed chapters or portions as soon as they are finished. I give the client a deadline for responding to the proposed copy.

Every e-mail I send with new chapters or sections contains some form of: "Please let me know what changes you would like made either to the content or the execution of the text. Text not specifically tagged for changes shall be considered satisfactory, and no further changes shall be made to it without the client's express approval."

I keep a copy of every e-mail I send in a project-specific file. I've had lots of lazy clients who didn't want to read what I'd written, but I've never had one who quibbled over what "satisfactory" meant. (Knock on wood...)

In short, my advice to ghosts and writers-for-hire is to never have a huge balloon payment looming on the horizon. Get paid in stages, in smaller amounts, throughout the project. That way, if a client is a deadbeat, you know quickly, and aren't out hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars. Also, throughout the project, stipulate that unless specific changes are requested, the client is accepting your work as satisfactory.

Are you a ghost or a freelancer? Care to share what works best for you when it comes to both keeping your clients happy and putting food on your table?