The “D” Word
It’s 2.41 a.m. I have an article due in less than four hours, but all I want to do is climb into bed and ignore any sentence that has the word “deadline” in it. It’s at times like these, when sources disappear on you, the words refuse to come, and the editors have memorized your phone number, that you wonder if becoming a crocodile wrestler wasn’t the saner career choice.
There are less exciting ways to earn a living I’m sure, but as of this moment, I can’t think of any.
Good thing I stocked up on strong black tea.
Riding Out the Silence
The editor who was interested in the controversial doctor story went completely silent on me. Here is how it went: I sent in the idea, she responded saying she was interested and could I please send some clips. I did.
And since then? Nothing.
I’ve found another really great hook to the story though. Between the insecurity I feel (what if they’re sitting in their conference room laughing and saying, “She calls this bullshit good writing?”) and the anxiety about what they’re going to come back with, I’m debating whether it’s a good idea to send them an e-mail about this additional information.
I need to think about it some more.
Writing is Work. Really.
A lot of the writing I’ve done in the past few days hasn’t really been, uh, writing. Sure I’ve written the occasional query letter, I write dozens of e-mails per day, I’ve been making notes for projects that are in the works, and I write a daily journal.
But while a lot of it is, technically, work, none of it is actual place-your-butt-in-the-chair writing.
The writing life, unfortunately, isn’t all that romantic. When most full-timers think of quitting their jobs and working from home, they focus on the “from home” part, but they forget the work. When they think about dumping those corporate suits and walking around the house in their pajamas all day, they forget that more often than not, they’ll be sitting in those pajamas in front of a computer screen for hours on end. When wannabe freelancers talk about the freedom of working on their own clock, they forget that the only freedom they’re awarded is in choosing which 18 hours of the 24 they’d like to work. Writers who love the idea of working on their own, don’t realize how isolated the lifestyle can be.
I’ve encountered those family members and roommates who think it’s okay to ask the cable guy to come at 10 in the morning to fix something, because, you know, I work from home, and I have all the time in the world to take care of such annoyances. That despite the fact that anyone who’s known me for more than seven minutes knows that I work all night and sleep through the day, only get up during days when I have appointments and interviews (read: have to leave the house), and oh, actually do have to work to make a living. There’s a reason I call myself a journalist. No, really.
Fortunately, I’m good at dealing with such issues, so I haven’t really had much of them. The cable guy rings the bell, is asked to come back at family member’s day off, and the message is made clear. No more cable guys show up at 10 in the morning.
When most freelancers start their careers as at-home workers, their biggest problem and their biggest failure is to set boundaries: for others and for themselves.
Writing is very much a job. A sometimes frustrating, sometimes demanding, sometimes unstable job.
The only difference is, it’s a job you love.
View From the Other Side
I was beginning to feel a little ignored. I was beginning to wonder if maybe I hadn’t done a good enough job on my last assignment. I was beginning to think that maybe my new ideas were completely off the mark.
It’s been happening to a lot of us lately. Editors aren’t responding. Publications are folding. The future seems uncertain. The income is dwindling.
An editor I’ve worked with twice and who I’ve been pitching for months with no response, wrote to me today. “Sorry for being so unresponsive,” he wrote. “We’re so broke these days, it’s embarrassing.” How do I respond to queries and ideas in a situation like that, he asked.
I don’t know if there’s a lesson in this, except for that we need to remember that editors are people, too. People who right now, are insecure, losing jobs, facing layoffs, and struggling to survive just as we are.
Be kind to them. Reach out. And don’t forget to continue supporting and buying publications that you’ve benefited from.
Making Writing Fun
I’m writing this on Write or Die: Dr Wicked’s Writing Lab. I’ve set the challenge to 250 words and 10 minutes.
I’m one of those writers who sometimes needs a challenge to get work done. I love downloading new writing software, especially if they make creating fun. Yeah Write and the Q10 programs were my favorite software programs, but once I switched to a Mac, they were no longer available to me. What was fun for me about both of them was how you could work in different screens, in different formats, in different fonts and colors.
I don’t typically like blank white screens. I love black screens where the words appear in white. Even though I learned typing on a computer, the sound of typewriter keys makes me feel more creative.
When wannabe writers become professionals, we sometimes lose that creativity and that fun that drew us to writing and creating in the first place. It becomes all about deadlines, grammar, writing for the readers, and getting it right. We forget to have fun with it. We forget that the act of creating itself is what was attractive about this career and this lifestyle. Being published and paid is just icing.
Of course, if writing is your career, you should treat it as such. Write every day, submit your stories on time, treat your editors professionally, know the needs of the market, ask to be paid well for your work. But don’t forget to have fun.
Because that’s why you chose this.
Deal Breakers
There are some things that can make or break a deal with a publisher. There is no one set of deal-breakers, but every writer will have a certain something that is simply not acceptable. Here are a few of mine along with some I’ve come across in my writing circles.
* All rights. There are some writers who will walk away from any assignment that has an all rights clause attached. It becomes tougher as the payment increases (would you really walk away if you were being paid $4 per word?), but for less than $2 a word, it’s worth fighting to keep your rights. With the right marketing, you can make a lot more than that for your work.
* Payment on publication. Some writers will simply not accept a payment-on-publication clause, and I’m on the path to becoming one of them. I just got paid for a piece I wrote over a year ago and which was published recently, and it’s a pattern I don’t think I’ll be repeating. There are however, publications that don’t have massive lead times. Still, that does put control in your editor or publisher’s hands and creates ambiguity in when you might expect that check. When possible, my rule is now to push for either acceptance or within three months of submission of manuscript.
* Indemnification clauses. This is a certain deal breaker for me, and I won’t sign any document that tries to hold me responsible for things that are not my responsibility. Simply said, many publications will try and make you sign something that says that if a lawsuit should result from your article, you’ll be responsible for bearing the costs. So if someone’s having a slow day and decides that he wants to sue the magazine, you get to pay the costs. Now, it’s quite possible that the person will lose, but you’re still paying those hefty legal fees. I get my contracts changed to reflect that if a lawsuit results as a consequence of my breaking the contract (plagiarism, falsifying events, etc), I’ll take responsibility, but I won’t be held financially responsible for any other lawsuits. Be clear about this.
* Indefinite rights in all media. Another deal breaker for me. If they want to use the piece again, they should pay for it. My agreements typically reflect a 20 to 50% additional fee for any additional reuse of the piece by the company. If you can, try and negotiate extra payment for Internet rights.
* Kill fees. 20% is standard. But here’s what you need to remember. If you’ve met your end of the contract, that is, you’ve submitted a piece that was asked for and the piece is killed for factors beyond your control, you should get the full fee for the piece. A kill fee is only for situations when the writer is unable to get the piece right even after several rewrites and the editor’s expectation is not met. You don’t get paid a kill fee if the editor simply changes his or her mind and decides not to use it. In that situation, fight for the full fee. Try and have this reflected in your contract, should you have one.
Those are some of my deal breakers. What are yours?
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