Just to recap, the past six weeks have been taken up with looking at nefarious publisher clauses in an admittedly limited pool of contracts. I briefly touched on:
Length of rights
Right of first refusal
Subsidiary rights
Out of print & bankruptcy
Auditing
and even some Kooky bits.
Now, to the summary.
In the great self-publishing debate, I often read advice to the effect that (a) you shouldn’t self-publish because you demean your own writing, and (b) if your writing was any good, it will find a traditional publishing home eventually anyway.
The problem is when your story does find a traditional publishing home but that home is owned by toxic and dysfunctional people. Under such circumstances, would it really have been better to have signed with AC-Pub than to go my own way? With full knowledge that, not only would my story be locked up ad infinitum, but my career (and my estate) would be hobbled as well? Is there any other industry in the world that thinks it has the right to say to me, “I will employ you on a variable wage that may be pennies per quarter, but you can never ever use your expertise again for any other employer in the world for as long as you live”??? It beggars belief, doesn’t it? Yet that’s exactly what traditional publisher, Acme Coyote Publishing, expected me to swallow.
Interestingly, when I queried a more innocuous contract clause (as a test, to do with royalty levels), this is the response I got from the publisher:
I’m sorry that the terms of the contract now appear inequitable to you. It also concerns me that you interpret the terms to reflect an opportunity for [Acme Coyote Publisher] to take advantage of the author.
Whoo hoo! Like that? “Now appear inequitable to you”? “Concerns me that you interpret”? Remember that this was the first time I had the final contract in my hands. (Yes, a draft one had been forwarded to me earlier, but I take little notice of them as they are not legally binding. I prefer to save my focus for the final contract…you know, the one I will sign and be bound to.)
After this paragraph, while conceding the point on royalties, AC-Pub goes on to say:
If you would prefer…[to modify some royalty terms]…we can do that. Otherwise I think you might want to explore the opportunities with another publisher.
Now, if AC-Pub could tell me to piss off when I hadn’t even broached the topics of length of rights, subsidiary rights, right of first refusal, and so on, could you imagine what they would have said once I itemised, clause by clause, exactly what was concerning me? Would have signing with them really have been more beneficial than going my own way?
And that reminds of a different publisher. I had been promised the final contract…and promised…and promised. In the end, the contract was two months late in getting to me. Remember that. Two months late. I took one week to go through the contract and respond with my concerns. And do you know what? In a subsequent editorial meeting, I was named as being the person responsible for holding up that entire month of releases. (I had a friend at that meeting, which is rarely/never the case.) It was not the publisher’s fault for being inefficient. Oh no, stalwart reader, it was mine for daring to take a week to read through a 16-page small-type contract. Live and learn.
Publishers take advantage of authors because they can. Because they know that each and every author who submits to them is looking for validation of their work. Sometimes you can use it to get something out of them as well (shorter rights periods, more recognition, higher royalties), but when you hit the situation where none of those apply, then you have the choice of sticking with them—for the chance to see your book on a bookshelf somewhere—or walking away.
I won’t kid you, it’s a tough tough decision. I’m happy I made mine my way. The question stands, what would you do?
