Perhaps it’s a genre or non-fiction topic that really grabs you, or is otherwise right in your wheelhouse. You can already feel yourself conjuring ideas for a story or essay or news article. Maybe you’re ready to start typing, when you get to that one part of the ad or e-Mail that brings everything to a screeching halt:
“We can’t pay for content at this time, but you’ll get great exposure.”
Hear that? It’s the sound of air escaping your little balloon of hope.
Creatives of every stripe—writers, artists, musicians—have heard this line at least once. “Write for the exposure.”
As the saying goes: “You can die from exposure.”
Why is this so prevalent? How is it that so many people who seem to be in “business” to publish something in print or online can get away with it? Simple: Their approach works. There are writers, artists, musicians, and every other flavor of creative type you care to name who are so desperate to be read, seen, or heard that they’ll leap at any opportunity that presents itself. They’ll happily give of themselves for the “promise” of something down the road. The trouble is that most of these roads are usually dead ends.
Don’t fall into that trap. Don’t write for “exposure.” Don’t write for free.
Now, no sooner do I declare something like that than I’m ready to hit you with at least a couple of exceptions. This blog, for example, is a thing we do because we were asked nicely by Liane and Kevin (I promised I wouldn’t bring up the blackmail. Wait. What?).
Elsewhere, I answer occasional requests to write something for a charitable endeavor, and any money made is donated to that cause. With “crowdfunding” through sites like Kickstarter becoming more common, I’ve participated in one or two writing projects funded through such efforts where I might see a little money on the back end. Then there’s the thing where I just want to be a part of it because it seems just so gosh-darned* fun. In all of these cases, the requests come from friends I trust; and who are on a very short list of people for whom I’d do anything, no questions asked.
(* = Look at Dayton, keeping his potty mouth at bay. Isn’t that precious?)
“Are there any other exceptions?” you might ask. That’s something every writer or other creative type will have to decide for themselves. For me, it usually involves my owing somebody money or a blood debt, or perhaps they have photographic proof that I’m having a torrid affair with Shania Twain or Carla Gugino, but that’s it.
Everybody else? Get out your checkbook.
Now, the rate of payment is open to discussion, of course. You can’t expect a small or independent press to be able to front you the sort of advances one might see from a traditional publishing house, but whenever I hear someone say, “Well, we just weren’t able to budget for writers,” this sets off a red flag for me. It’s not that they couldn’t fit writers into their budget; it’s that they consciously opted not to do so, and why? Remember that paragraph I have up above, which starts with “Why is this so prevalent?” Boom. There you go.
The idea that a publication can “budget” for everything except the people who provide the very content that gives them a reason for being is laughable. Indeed, the notion that they’re happy to make money from your work, but don’t see a need to pay you for your services, is insulting. To make matters worse, some of these outfits have the audacity to request or even demand you sign over all rights as part of doing business with them. All rights to your work, for free.
This isn’t my own blog, so I’m restraining myself from describing for you what I really think of such people. If any of them happen to be reading this, just know that I think your business model sucks. Do better.
The simple rule for writers: If they’re making money, you should be making money. The amount is negotiable, but you should demand your fair slice of what you’re helping them earn.
Okay, now come on: Everyone has stories about this sort of thing. What are yours?