We know we're supposed to argue for the best possible contract, one that sells one-time rights only, that withholds electronic rights unless there's a separate payment, and that lists quite explicitly which electronic rights we're selling.
But what happens when we can't get the contract we ask for? Are we supposed to turn down these assignments--or is it okay to compromise our ideals occasionally in order to make a living?
I come up against this quandary all the time. As more and more magazine contracts cross my desk that try to grab all rights with no additional payments, my first instinct is to object. But I also want to keep writing, and getting paid for what I write. On the one hand, I know that if I cave in and agree to a contract I know to be unfair, then we writers may never get what's coming to us. On the other hand, I also want to pay my bills.
So the dirty truth is that, while I try to take the high road and turn down contracts that are too onerous and inflexible, I have also signed my share of lousy contracts.
Often it depends on what the surrounding circumstances are. Last year, for instance, I was asked by two magazines at about the same time to write articles on topics I knew nothing about. Each would have taken a lot of time to research, and I was in the middle of a big book project that I really couldn't afford to procrastinate on any longer. So when I turned down their assignments, I made a big point of saying that I was doing so because of their objectionable contracts, which neither magazine had been willing to budge on. (Well, I take that back: The magazine that had asked for all rights to reuse the article in electronic and all other media "throughout the universe" did back down somewhat. Maybe because they realized that intelligent life on Alpha Centauri might not be all that interested in chiropractic medicine, they agreed to change the phrase to "throughout the world.")
I was able to score a little point for the writers in those cases, by telling the magazines that I couldn't write for them until their contracts improved. But I must admit that I turned down the work primarily because I didn't want to do it anyway.
Similarly, when I signed a contract a few months later that bought all rights, I told my editor that I was willing to do so because the magazine had agreed to pay an additional $100 for electronic rights, and to eliminate the indemnification clause. But the fact is, I basically signed the contract because it offered me $2000 for a 900-word essay I had already written. To turn it down, even on lofty principles, would have been to throw away found money.
This is just to inject a little note of reality into our discussions about contract negotiations. My bottom line has been to make my objections known, and to interpret some willingness to change as a sign of good faith. Then I occasionally swallow my solidarity and agree to a compromise.
Even as I write this, I find myself embroiled in negotiations over still another contract. A major women's magazine for which I've never worked before has sent me a pretty bad contract, and I went over it with Dan Carlinsky and found out that other writers have gotten a lot of changes made: kill fee changed from 20 percent to 25 percent, electronic rights clause struck out altogether, subsequent use of the piece changed from "for 10 percent of the original fee" to "for a price to be negotiated." But when I made those identical changes to my contract, I was told it was no go.
Now I have to decide whether to compromise--they'll pay me another 50 bucks or so for "non-exclusive" electronic rights, and cut down the period of use from three years to two--or whether to hold out for what I know has been given to other writers. At the newsletter's deadline, I still don't know how this one will turn out. But if I do give in, you can bet it's because I just can't afford to turn away the $3,750. And I'll rationalize it by telling myself that at least I made a stink, and at least I got some concessions, and at least they know they haven't pulled one over on me because I know they treat other writers better--and by hoping that when I write the next piece for this magazine, I'll get better treatment, too.
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Robin Marantz Henig is a freelance writer in Takoma Park, MD.