Missed another Hump Day post, I see. I really would like to offer a good excuse, but basically, I frittered my day away in a wanton display of Doing Nothing Productive other than beginning to organize the tax stuff.
In penance, and because I am so disorganized that I can’t keep track of these things, I updated my spreadsheet that keeps track of which outlines and books are due when. I’m trying to see if there’s a spot I can squeeze a YA paranormal into without actually driving myself insane, as well as trying to anticipate outlines due months ahead of the actual book writing.
Confused? Let me explain to you how things work for writers. Or at least, for me. We’ll start at the beginning, so things won’t get too muddy.
An editor calls my Darling Agent Michelle, and says something along the lines of, “So, you have Katie! She’s still sane, yes? Goody. We’d like to offer her a contract for [x number of books] of the [specific type of books]/[novella in anthology]/[short story for anthology] ilk. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for that: [sum of money named that is never large enough for Darling Agent Michelle’s tastes]. What’dya guys think about that?”
DA Michelle, every gracious, informs the editor that she will discuss the offer with me. If it’s an offer that she knows I won’t be likely to take, she e-mails me the details and asks what I want to do. I turn it down, and she gently breaks the news to the editor.
If it’s an offer she knows I’d be willing to consider, she calls me up with the poop. I consult my schedule, see if it’s timely–meaning I’m about to run out of an existing contract–and assuming I am willing to go forward with it, tell DA Michelle what terms I’d like. That usually deals with money, types of books, and number of books on the contract.
Michelle then calls the editor back and says something similar to, “Katie is such a silly billy. Can you believe she wants a million bucks advance? Per book. And she only wants two books contracted, and she’d like it left open as to what type of book…” Thus begins the first stage of negotiations.
And for the record, no, those aren't my terms. Although I'd sure like them to be...
Once the basic issues of money and books are settled, the editor asks when I can turn in the books. So I pull out the ol’ spreadsheet of deadlines, and work out dates that will make the publisher and me happy.
You might think negotiations are over by that point, but they’re not! The contracts department at the publisher goes to work and kicks out a contract, which they send to Michelle. She vets it, and if it contains something she doesn’t like, may consult with the spiffy literary attorney Elaine English (Elaine, for the record, has saved both Michelle’s and my sanity many a time), or a contracts consultant regarding things like bestseller bonuses, foreign rights, etc.
Michelle and the publisher’s contracts person then work out all the fine points, which can take months. Literally months. To the point where I’ve written the book contracted before the contract is finalized.
Once the contract is done, it’s sent to DA Michelle for one final check to make sure it’s all pretty and happy and will make my eyes cross trying to decipher the legalese, after which she overnights it to me with strict instructions to sign where she tells me and NOT to draw happy flower faces next to the part that lists when, and how much, the advances are to be paid.
Since most of my contracts are for multiple books, a schedule of due dates is included, tied to payments of the advances. Gone are the days when I’d get a chunk of money on signing the contract, and one on acceptance of the completed manuscript. Now I get paid when I sign the contract, when I submit an outline for a book, when I submit the final book (and it’s accepted), and when it’s published. Darling Agent Michelle and I fought against the “on publication” payment for a long time, but the sad reality is that once you start making a decent advance, the publishers break payments down to spread it out.
And that, my cherubs, is why it’s so important that I keep my schedule up-to-date. For instance, although I’m due to start writing the next vamp book, smack dab in the middle of my writing time for that, an outline for the third silver dragon book will come due, so it behooves me to keep that in mind so there won’t be a horrible clashing of mental gears, with accompanying smell of burning rubber, as I rush to get the outline for a dragon book done while I’m writing a vamp book.
