Surprised by Crazy, Fierce Love by Dawn Crandall

I thought I knew what I wanted. I really did.  

I was in my mid-thirties, had a terrific husband (of eight years), a cute house in a town not far from my hometown and family, the ability to write from home, a respected literary agent and a three book historical romantic suspense series making the rounds with the top Christian publishers in the industry. I was set. And completely convinced that I had everything I could ask for. Well, everything but the finalized book contract with a publisher, that is.

And then I went on vacation last summer. It was a good vacation. Planned at the last moment—like usual—but to generally the same location my husband and I visit every summer: a rustic cabin built by my husband’s grand-father and great-grandfather in 1948. This pine tree-surrounded cabin sits on a lake in Northern (as in WAY north) Maine. We drive up simply because my husband has the vacation time to spare, and we like to stop along the way and visit places like Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts and Moosehead Lake in Central Maine (where my third book is set). 

But for some strange reason, this vacation felt different. It was our eighth summer staying there and visiting extended family who are closer to me than my own cousins, aunts and uncles... but I was getting restless. I’d heard snippets of interest from a publisher earlier that summer, and my third manuscript was a finalist in a very prestigious writing contest. I was becoming a little obsessive in my thoughts about what was EVER going to happen with these books I’d poured the last four years of my life into. 

One night while staying at the cabin, my husband (being the Mainer that he is) asked to take me out for a moonlit canoe ride. We didn’t have to go far to be surrounded by the moon and a multitude of brightly shining stars. Usually, when I get to such a place all I can think about are my stories and how to make them real for readers... but this time, as we sat there silently staring at the sky I felt a question resound through me, to my heart. 

What do you want more than anything, Dawn?

My quick answer: 

I want my books to be published.

Does that seem like a silly answer to you? It didn’t to me. When I’d begun my first book (the one the publishers had in their hands), I’d written it for myself. Not to be published, but for something to do... because I wasn’t having babies. I’d always wanted to write a book. I just thought I’d do it after I got married (right out of college, of course—haha!), had my children, and they went off to school… much like the time-line of many of my writer-friends who are also my age.

But that night, as I sat there in that canoe, I realized I’d given up on all that. Nothing was happening. Not that I was jumping through hoops, popping pills, or getting fertility shots. I’d simply been told that there was NOTHING wrong with me. I’d spent too many years thinking, “Where are my babies?” that I just needed to stop. So I did. I pretended not to care. I forced myself into a submissive attitude, telling myself that it didn’t matter. If God wanted me to have babies, then I would have babies. If He didn’t, I wouldn’t. It was that simple.

However, my books… now there was something happening. They were SO CLOSE to publication and had gotten there relatively easily. I figured that was what I was meant to do. WRITE. And why not? There’s nothing I’ve enjoyed more than creating and writing an intensely complex love story to thrill my friends with. So yes, my answer made complete sense to me. It was what I’d come to want more than anything else. 

Until I got home from vacation and couldn’t write. I had my rough draft of the third manuscript finished, but there were so many things I needed to polish and add to the end of the story before it came time to go to the ACFW conference to find out the winners of the Genesis Contest in September. There I sat with the desire to write, yet I was suddenly too exhausted to think! I thought it was the fact that we’d been gone for over two weeks, which was longer than usual... but a few weeks later I had another, very odd suspicion that it was something more than that. 

My brain was in a constant fog, and I was too tired to really do anything—more tired than I’d EVER been in my entire life. And suddenly the idea of eating anything sounded disgusting?

I couldn’t fathom the truth. How could it be? It was a fact I knew all too well: Dawn couldn’t get pregnant. But slowly, cautiously, I began to really believe it. My husband took me to the grocery store that week (because I couldn’t make it on my own!) and at the end of the bread aisle I told him, “I think we need to buy a pregnancy test.”

The remembrance of the huge smile on his face when he held those two pink lines up for me to see later that evening still breaks my heart. He’d been praying and praying all those years, even after I’d given up. And suddenly, with the answer of his faithful prayers, it didn’t matter so much if my books ever got published. 

And yeah, I’d thought I knew what I wanted a month before... that week when I'd been asked, and God went into action to immediately prove me wrong.

Photo by A Portrait of a Lady Photography

I was wrong. So wrong.

I’m now six and a half weeks from my baby’s due date... AND I was finally blessed with a three-book contract with Whitaker House Books earlier this winter. I still want both—don’t get me wrong—but nothing compares to feeling the surprising, crazy, fierce love I have for this baby wiggling inside as it grows bigger and stronger.... Not even the joy of completing a 90K manuscript that a publisher actually finds worthy of publishing under their name.

Throughout this pregnancy, although I am quite nervous about the strange mixture of having a newborn baby and a three book contract to deal with at the same time, I can’t help but constantly think back to the two verses that I long ago picked out as the themes for my first book and how they ended up being not just for my heroine, Amaryllis Brigham, but for me too. 

Ephesians 3:20 ~ “Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us...”

James 1:17 ~ “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn Crandall writes long inspirational historical romantic suspense from first person point of view and is represented by Joyce Hart of Hartline Literary Agency. Her debut series will release in 2014 through Whitaker House Books. 

Photo by A Portrait of a Lady Photography

She is the Secretary for the Indiana ACFW Chapter as well as an associate member of The Great Lakes ACFW Chapter. She has a Bachelor Degree in Christian Education from Taylor University. 

 

Dawn's first completed manuscript, Amaryllis Brigham, was a 2013 ACFW Genesis Contest Semi-Finalists as well as a 2012 Clash of the Titles Olympia Contest Semi-Finalist, her second, Meredyth Summercourt, was a 2012 ACFW Genesis Contest Semi-Finalist, and her third, Estella Everstone, was a 2013 ACFW Genesis Contest Finalist. All three are part of her debut series which will release from Whitaker House Books starting in 2014.

Dawn hosts a book review blog called A Passion for Pages and tweet those reviews at @dawnwritesfirst. She also has a Facebook Author Page.

The Case of the Obstinate Movie Star

Tony Curtis wasn’t content to be a famous movie star. He wanted to be a novelist, too.

He started on that path when Doubleday & Company offered him a two-book contract. With the help of a skillful, hands-on editor, his first novel was a commercial success. But only one of them was a gifted writer, and it wasn't Tony Curtis.

His second attempt was problematic from the beginning. First, he kept missing his deadlines. Second, for whatever reason (probably the frequent employment moves in the publishing business), this book ended up with a different editor. And because of Curtis’ personal circumstances at the time, he didn't have the same face-to-face relationship as he did with his first editor. Still, the new editor put in substantial time and effort and provided detailed comments on Curtis’ partial draft.

Then Doubleday got his "final" draft. Curtis had ignored much of the editor’s advice. To make matters worse, the ending just didn’t work. The publishing house determined that the manuscript was unsalvageable, terminated the contract, and asked for its advance back.

Tony Curtis refused, and Doubleday sued. Fortunately for Doubleday, the publishing contract required Curtis to provide a satisfactory manuscript. That may sound like a “get out of jail free” clause that allows a publisher to change its mind for any reason at all, but it isn’t. According to the courts, a publisher can only invoke the clause if it is honestly dissatisfied with the quality or completeness of the manuscript. Because Doubleday acted in good faith, it got its advance back.

So if your editor has suggestions for improving your manuscript, you might want to listen.

Join me on January 23 and every fourth Thursday throughout 2014 for a new series called “A Writer’s Guide to the First Amendment.”

* * * * *

Kathryn Page Camp is a licensed attorney and full-time writer. Her new book, Writers in Wonderland: Keeping Your Words Legal (KP/PK Publishing 2013) is available from Amazon.com and other retailers. Kathryn is also the author of In God We Trust: How the Supreme Court’s First Amendment Decisions Affect Organized Religion (FaithWalk Publishing 2006) and numerous articles. You can learn more about Kathryn at www.kathrynpagecamp.com.

Lesson 12: Requiem

You hope your book will have a long life, but few stories are immortal. Yours might be another Odyssey (as in the one written by Homer), but it's more likely to be one of the tidal wave of books that go out of print every year. Chances are, your manuscript will eventually die.

And your contract contains its funeral instructions.

Not that the contract is trying to hasten the book's demise. Your publisher wants it to live a long, healthy life.

But even a book should be prepared for death, and the "out-of-print" or "reversion" clause tells the publisher when to pull the plug.

It used to be a lot easier to know when a book was deceased. If the publisher decided that it couldn't sell enough copies to cover the cost of another print run, it would simply refuse to print more. The refusal was the book's death certificate.

Today, with e-books and print on demand, the publisher may have the ability to print and sell single copies without losing money. So books with sales that would formerly have put them out of print may now be kept alive by life support. But that may not be what you want. It's better to have a clause that says the book is out of print (for purposes of the contract) using more objective measures. Here are some examples:

• The book is out of print when the publisher has sold less than __ books of any type (e-book, print on demand, mass market paperback, trade paperback, hardback) over the past __ months;
• The book is out of print when the contract has generated less than $__ in royalties over the past __ months [or during the last accounting period];
• The book is in print only while copies of an English-language print edition are readily available and offered for sale in the U.S. through regular channels and listed in the publisher's catalog.

Since some authors want to pull the plug sooner than others do, I'm not going to fill in the blanks. But your contract should.

So why would you ever want to pull the plug? As mentioned in my March 24, 2011 post, the contract rents certain of your copyright rights to the publisher. While the contract is in effect, you can't use those rights yourself. So if sales are very slow and you think you can sell the book to a different publisher or do better on your own, you want the lease to terminate so you get your rights back.

Unless it is a work for hire, make sure that the contract states that the rights revert to you if the contract terminates under the out-of-print clause or for any other reason. The contract should also require the publisher to notify you when the book goes out of print. Even better is a provision that requires the publisher to also notify you when the book's vital statistics indicate that it is close to death.

The contract may terminate for other reasons, such as the publishing company's bankruptcy. The author should receive the same reversion rights as it would if the book were out of print. This is also true if the publisher wants to abort the manuscript before it is published. Ideally, the contract will require the publisher to publish the book within a specified period after receiving an acceptable manuscript and will provide for the rights to revert to you if the publisher misses its deadline.

Authors shouldn’t have to repay unearned advances if the book is out of print, the publisher misses its deadline, or the reasons for the termination are beyond your control. So make sure that's what your contract says.

Regardless of the cause of your book's demise, you want the right to purchase any remaining copies from the publisher at a deep discount. And the best provision will also allow you to purchase--at cost--any existing electronic files, plates, films, and artwork.

Why are these provisions so important?

Because the birth of your publishing contract is the best time to plan for the death of your book.

Kathryn Page Camp

Lesson 11: Borrowing Can Cost You

You love the sentiment in a popular love song written last year, and you want your hero to sing it to your heroine. If you include the lyrics, you probably need permission to use them. And if your autobiography says terrible things about your brother, those things had better be true.

But this is a post on book contracts, not on copyrights or defamation. So what's the point?

The point is the representations and warranties clause in your contract. Actually, the difference between representations and warranties is minimal and too technical to worry about here, so I will lump them together as "warranties." A warranty is a promise that you have or haven't done something (or will or won't do something in the future). For practical purposes, the warranties clause makes you promise that nothing in your book is likely to get the publisher sued.

The main warranties promise that:

• You own the copyright and nobody else has a legal interest in it;
• You didn't plagiarize or infringe on anyone else's copyright; and
• The book doesn't defame people or violate their privacy rights.

If you are selling a previously self-published book to a traditional publisher, you don't want to warrant that it has never been published. But even if the publisher knows it has been, the publisher may forget to remove the warranty from its standard contract. So make sure you point it out and get it deleted.

Be sure to read all of the warranties and make sure they are true--or at least that you honestly believe they are. But what if the publisher gets sued anyway?

The indemnification clause in your contract says you will reimburse the publisher for any legal fees and judgments it has to pay.

If you were at fault, it's only fair that you be the one to pay. But here are some things to watch out for in the indemnification clause.

• A provision that covers any lawsuit, including one that is the publisher's fault. Indemnification should be limited to claims on matters you have warranted and should exclude any material added by the publisher.
• Wording that allows the publisher to settle the case without your approval. As an author, a good clause requires your approval of the settlement and says that the publisher will pay half (since a settlement isn't a determination that you did anything wrong).
• Language that says you have to pay the publisher's legal fees even if you and the publisher win the case. Publishers may argue--with some validity--that this provision is fair since the publisher is defending you, too, and the case was about what you did, not what the publisher did. Still, the publisher has more incentive to keep legal fees reasonable if it bears some responsibility for them. A clause that says you don't have to reimburse the publisher for legal fees if you win the case is best, but one that splits the fees in half is better than making you pay them all.
• A provision that allows the publisher to withhold all royalties from all contracts until the lawsuit is over. Try to limit it to the contract for the book involved in the lawsuit and to no more than a reasonable estimate of the expected damages and legal fees.

"Can't I get insurance to cover this?" you ask. You can, but it's expensive. On the other hand, the publisher may be able to add you to its liability insurance for little extra cost. If your publisher agrees to do that, get it included in your contract. Insurance isn't a perfect fix since you will still be responsible for the deductible (which may be quite high) and any amount over the limit, but you want it if you can get it.

Let's go back to the warranty clause for a minute. You have probably warranted that you will not use copyrighted material without permission. "Fine," you say, "I'll use it with permission."

But whose responsibility is it to get permission, and at whose expense? That's the function of a permissions clause. The typical clause requires the author to get the permissions and to pay any related costs. But what if you have to give that famous songwriter $1,000 to quote his lyrics? If your book is illustrated or contains photographs, maps, and charts that you didn't create, that can get expensive, too. So make sure you know the expenses before you sign the contract (and calculate a generous overrun for the unexpected). Then decide whether the royalty is high enough to make it worthwhile. Or maybe you can live without the lyrics to that popular love song.

Because borrowing without permission can cost you a lot more.

Kathryn Page Camp

Lesson 10: Competing With the Man or Woman in the Mirror

Before a publisher buys your book, you may have to tell the house what other books are out there that compete with yours. But when you sign the contract, the publisher is more concerned about whether you will compete with yourself. A competing works clause prohibits you from competing through a different publisher, and a revisions clause allows the publisher to compete with you when revising the book.

Neither of these clauses is necessary for fiction, and many fiction contracts don't have them. If yours does, try to eliminate those clauses.*

Nonfiction is different. Say you have written a college textbook for introductory psychology classes. It will compete with other introductory college textbooks in the market, and your publisher knows that. But the publisher does not expect it to compete with a similar textbook you wrote for the same audience but self-published or sold to a different publisher. This is also true for a Bible study on Lamentations or a travel guide to the Holy Land. It isn't fair for the author to compete with the publisher that has taken a risk and invested its money.

Still, a clause that simply talks about "competing works" could apply to anything with the same subject matter, so try to narrow it if you can. See if you can limit the prohibition to psychology textbooks or, even better, to introductory psychology textbooks. And if developments in psychology move fast enough that a textbook is obsolete after five years, maybe you can get the clause to terminate in five years.

But that brings up another issue. What if the publisher wants to update the book and release it as a new edition? Are you required to make the changes? What happens when you don't?

This is where the revisions clause comes in. This provision is especially important for textbooks and other nonfiction books containing information that changes over time.

A revisions clause says who makes the revisions and who pays for them. Many clauses require you, as the original author, to make the changes. Some give you the right of first refusal, meaning that the publisher must offer you the opportunity but you don't have to accept it. Ideally, you want to retain as much control as possible over who will make the revisions if you don't.

If you are unable or unwilling to revise the book, the usual clause allows the publisher to hire someone else. That person will get paid from your royalties, so you want to make sure the amount is not excessive. It might be a flat fee, or it might be a percentage of the royalties. For example, if you were getting a 10% royalty and the reviser gets 2%, your subsequent royalty rate will be 8%.

Of course, you can always try to get the publisher to pay for the revisions. I wish you luck.

Then there are issues such as whether the reviser gets listed as a coauthor; whether you can take your name off if the reviser butchers the book; and how many revisions the book can go through before the contract simply terminates. If I were to address those, this would be an article rather than a blog post.

So for now, just make sure you know how far you can--or must--go when competing with yourself.

Kathryn Page Camp

* If the publisher won't eliminate a competing works clause for fiction, make sure the wording isn't so broad that it could prohibit you from using the same characters in other books. If it could, you may be better walking away.

Lesson 9: How Did I Become an Indentured Servant?

Remember this paragraph from my January 27, 2011 contribution to this blog?

"[W]hy do you care what the contract says? If you're desperate to publish your book, maybe you don't. At least not at the time. But somewhere down the road it will matter. Like when a large house accepts your second book and then you discover your earlier contract says you have to offer it to that publisher first. (More about these clauses in a later post.)"

This is a later post.

Most book contracts contain an option clause, or a least a right of first refusal. While some people distinguish those terms, others use them interchangeably. For our purposes, we will lump them together and call them all option clauses.

An option clause basically says you can't sell your next book to a different publisher unless the current publisher doesn't want it.

The publisher is taking a chance on you and investing resources in a book that may bomb, so shouldn't the publisher have the right to benefit from subsequent books if its gamble pays off? That seems logical. Still, the option clause has no benefit for the author, so you'd rather eliminate it.

But if you can't negotiate it away, what provisions should you look for in the clause?

• When you can submit the next book. Ideally, the contract should allow you to submit your next manuscript shortly after you have delivered a satisfactory manuscript for the contracted book. If the contract doesn't allow you to submit the next one until the publisher can see how the first is doing, you may not be able to seek a publisher for the second book for another two years (or possibly even more).
• What you can submit. If the clause requires a completed manuscript, you will have to write the entire book first. The better clause will let you submit a detailed outline and one or two chapters.
• How soon the publisher must respond. Sixty days is good. If the time is open-ended, the publisher can tie up the next deal indefinitely.
• The terms of the next deal. Some contracts state that the author grants the publisher the right to publish the author's next book--if the publisher accepts it--"on the same terms" as the current deal. That means even the option clause carries over, so the author will never get a better deal until the publisher finally rejects a book. "On the same financial terms" is marginally better: at least you may be able to negotiate the option clause and other non-financial issues. "On terms to be mutually agreed upon" is best.
• The scope of the clause. A clause that simply refers to your next manuscript means any manuscript, regardless of genre. See if you can narrow it to your next novel or your next children's book or your next nonfiction book on the same or a related topic.
• How many manuscripts the clause covers. One book is more than enough.
• Is there a "no less favorable terms" provision? The worst case scenario is when your contract allows your publisher--after it has already rejected the manuscript--to match an offer from another publisher and get the book after all. That practically kills any chance you have to sell the next book elsewhere. No publisher wants to waste time and resources preparing a book for committee and negotiating a contract only to have another publisher take it away.

In colonial days, indentured servitude let many European immigrants pursue the American dream. It was a voluntary choice by people with a strong desire to come to America but no money to pay the fare. Yes, sometimes the conditions were atrocious, but the indenture was means to an end, and the end was freedom in this country.

For writers, option clauses are another type of indentured servitude. If that's the price of getting published, you may be happy to sign the contract anyway. Just make sure that the terms of your indentured servitude are ones you can live with.

Kathryn Page Camp

Lesson 8: Who's Responsible for Making the Book Sell?

The author. Always. Still, there are things the publisher can do to help or hurt sales, and you want your contract to add the "helps" and eliminate the "hurts."

On the helps side, you want the publisher to do as much promotion as possible. Once upon a time, the publisher took the primary responsibility for marketing. Today, that is no longer the case. Still, the publisher wants to see the book succeed, so it may at least agree to send out advance reader copies and press kits and provide postcards or bookmarks (or give you a copy of the artwork so you can make your own). If the publisher says it will create a trailer or sponsor a book tour, the contract should spell that out. If the publisher won't agree to put its promises in writing, assume you will be doing all the promotion on your own.

Some contracts explicitly turn the historical relationship around and require the author to self-promote the book. For most of us, a clause that requires us to use our best efforts to promote the book is not a problem. After all, we want to do what we can to make our baby successful. But beware of clauses that include objective measurements or require promotional activities that are beyond your time, resources, or talents.

Ideally, the contract should also tell you how much of the book you can reproduce for promotional purposes. Can you post three chapters on your website? Or one? Or none? Even assuming you still own the copyright, you are leasing most or all of the publication rights to your publisher. So you could violate the contract if you use more than the publisher allows.

On the hurts side, the wrong title, front-cover design, or back-cover copy could damage your sales, so try to retain as much control over them as you can. The publisher often has a better feel for what makes a title work than the author does, so you always want to listen to suggestions. The same is true for the back-cover copy. Still, publishers can make mistakes. Although few publishers will allow you full control over the title and back-cover copy, some will give you approval rights. If yours won't, try for a provision that says the publisher will consult with you. That doesn't guarantee the publisher will listen to your comments, but most will try to find a compromise.

The publisher usually creates and pays for the front-cover design, so the author is not likely to get approval rights. It's also hard to get consultation rights, but you can at least ask for them and see what the publisher says.

The author and the publisher have the same goal: to sell as many books as possible.

But you still want to maximize the helps and minimize the hurts.

Kathryn Page Camp

How I Became Part of Marcher Lord Press

I first heard about Marcher Lord Press through a blog interview a few years ago. By then, I knew enough about the writing industry to know that publishing a Christian fantasy would be difficult. Hardly any Christian publishing companies were taking those kinds of books. They wanted romance, historical, Amish. Not a fantasy set in a different world. Not my kind of book.

Then I read Randy’s interview with a man named Jeff Gerke. Jeff was starting a new publishing company that would only produce Christian science fiction and fantasy. He saw a market out there that no one was reaching. So he was going to reach it.
After reading that interview, I turned to Dan and said, “My book might have a home someday.” I never realized how true those words would become.
I watched Marcher Lord Press with interest. I watched the books produced. I read the books. And they were good. Really good. I was still finishing my own book at the time, but I knew when I was done, I wanted to submit it to Marcher Lord Press.

Later that spring, I went to the Mt Hermon Writing conference with a finished book in hand, ready to show it to agents and publishers. I also met Jeff there. I told him about my book. He seemed interested and told me to submit it. But he also warned me that it would take 12-18 months for him to get back to me about it. That was fine with me.
I went home and sent off my manuscript. I also sent it off to a couple others who were interested. Then I started writing the second book. I heard back from the others. The message was the same: good book, but not for us. I didn’t lose heart. I knew I suppose to write. But that didn’t necessarily mean I would be published.

Then life happened. Dan and I found ourselves at a crossroads a couple months ago after he was let go from the church we were serving at. All thoughts of publishing disappeared from my mind. Instead, I found myself in God’s crucible. I was being reshaped and reforged by grief and heartache. Dan and I clung to each other and God as we sought what we should do next. We came out of that time with a strong love and desire to reach people with God’s love. So we decided to church plant.
But how did publishing fit in with that? I didn’t know. We were beginning a whole new way of life with me working full time and Dan taking care of the kids, going to school, and planting Living Grace Church. I finally knelt down one night and gave my writing to God. I was willing to give it up if God so chose.

After work last Friday, I received an email from Jeff. I waited until the kids were in bed. Then I did the dishes, all the while praying. Then I sat down and opened the email. His first words were would I like to be a Marcher Lord?
I ran to Dan’s office crying. Poor Dan, he couldn’t figure out if they were good tears or sad tears. I finally said he wants my book. Then we both came running back to my computer and finished the email. Then I sent off my reply. Yes, I wanted to be a Marcher Lord.

I couldn’t believe it. I walked around the house the next two days in a daze. I felt that gut twisting sensation you get when the roller coaster reaches the top and you’re looking down right before the plunge: excited and terrified. The contract came in. I read over it a couple times, had Dan read it, then signed it.

Monday, the news broke and life has not been the same since.
So that’s my writing journey. There have been a lot of people who have supported me, encouraged me, and pushed me to the next level the last few years. To name them all here would take a lot of space. You all know who you are. Thank you my friends!

Expecting!

My granddaughter, Maggie Ellen Faith Akins

It took longer than nine months, but my baby is due any day now!

If you're a writer you know I'm referring to a new book release. (As far as I know, angels haven't stopped by to inform my husband of an impending birth. If that happens, unlike Sara, this 50-year-old granny won't laugh. She'll pass out.)

I'm terribly excited about my new baby, er, book and I want to remember this feeling because I think the emotions might be very similar to the first time you deliver a human baby--nothing compares with the awe and wonder of it. I can hardly wait to hold it in my hands and count its fingers and toes, er, its pages. 

I've been published in compilations and magazines, but this is my first true blue book with my name on the front cover. Excuse me while I gush. It's embarrassing, I know, for those of you with million-dollar contracts, to observe my shameless blush of success. But for this girl who dreamed of being a writer from the time she could read, it's rapturous living on that giddy cloud of nine.

My book, O Canada! Her Story: Historical Narratives and Biographies that tell Her Story, is due out sometime this month. It's written for middle grades and the target audience is homeschoolers. But much like a Pringles potato chip, releasing a book is addictive. I'm eager to get to the next one. 


My new website is ready and I've started a mailing list for those interested in writing and history. Writing this book clarified something for me: while I enjoy writing humorous-contemporary fiction, I'm passionate about creating historical faction. That is, stories based on real events and people in history. 

I still write my columns at Examiner  and Mother Nature Network. I recommend column writing for anyone because it teaches you to write succinctly and to "just get 'er done." It does this for me, anyway. If you're not yet published, I encourage you to build your writing resume this way.


I think all projects take you to a new level of skill, or a new perspective of what it is God wants to say through you. One thing I've learned so far in this writing journey is that you've got to write a whole lot of twaddle before you get to the good stuff. So keep writing. Even when you don't feel like it, put your backside in the chair and write. (This is why writing columns is helpful. You've got to write something every day.)


What has God revealed through your writing experiences lately?  In what ways have you grown? I'd love to know. Write on!

Karla Akins is a pastor's wife, mother of five, and grandma to five beautiful little girls. She lives in North Manchester with her husband, twin teenage boys with autism, and three crazy dogs. Her favorite color is purple, favorite hobby is shoes, and favorite  food group is cupcakes.

Lesson 7: When the Book and the Publisher Clash

You've signed the contract, submitted the book, and told your Facebook friends that you are going to be a published author.

Then you get the publisher's edits and gasp because they change the look and feel of the story and eliminate your voice. Or worse, the publisher ignored your Christian worldview and turned your novel into something that glorifies sin.

Researching publishers before you submit is your best defense against the publisher that doesn't "get" your book. The contract is your next best defense.

Ideally, you want your contract to require your consent to any changes other than copyedits that conform the manuscript to the publisher's style manual. Second-best is language requiring the publisher to consult with you before making changes. But if the contract lets the publisher make the final decision and you are worried that it won't honor your Christian message, you may be better walking away without signing.

But here's another scenario. You get a a letter from the publisher telling you the book isn't good enough and it has decided not to publish your masterpiece. AND the publisher wants the advance back.

Most contracts contain a clause requiring the author to deliver a "satisfactory manuscript." Since many books are sold on proposals, this is how publishers protect themselves from wasting money on a bad book.

Doubleday & Company entered into a two-book contract with actor Tony Curtis. With the help of a skillful, hands-on editor, Doubleday turned the first novel into a commercial success. The second novel ended up with a different editor, who also provided detailed critiques and comments. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. In the end, Doubleday determined that the manuscript was unsalvageable and asked for its advance back. When Curtis refused, Doubleday sued and won.*

So can a publisher use this clause as an excuse to terminate a contract merely because it has lost interest? That may be true if the contract simply calls for a "satisfactory manuscript" but not if it calls for one that is satisfactory "in form and content," as most do. When this additional language is included, the courts impose a good faith obligation on the publisher: an obligation that appears, at a minimum, to require the publisher to give the author a chance to revise and resubmit the manuscript and may also require minimal editing assistance. But even that may not help if the contract says you get only one shot or no editing help.

The best contract for you (as the author) will allow you to keep any advances the publisher has already paid unless you sell the book to a different publisher. In that event, you would have to pay back only as much as you get from the second publisher. However, if the contract allows a publisher to simply terminate the contract for any reason before the book is published, the contract should allow you to keep the entire amount you have already received. This protects you when the publisher simply changes its mind.

If the publisher has seen your entire manuscript before entering into the contract, it may not need a "satisfactory manuscript" clause. Even so, if the publisher considers your manuscript to be a diamond in the rough, it may want the clause in case the polished version doesn't sparkle.

As a reader and a consumer, I like "satisfactory manuscript" clauses that weed out some badly written books. And although it can be abused, the clause protects me as an author, too.

Because I don't want to build my reputation on a book that isn't good.

Kathryn Page Camp

* Doubleday & Co., Inc. v. Curtis, 763 F.2d 495 (2nd Cir. 1985).

Lesson 6: Show Me the Money

Now that you know your royalty percentage, your next question is, "How often do I get paid?"

Not often enough.

Unlike the day job where you get a paycheck at least twice a month, most publishers pay you twice a year. Others pay quarterly or even annually. And publishers send the money anywhere from three months to six months after sending the royalty statement.

So if your publisher issues royalty statements as of June 30 and December 31 and your book releases on March 1, you will probably receive your first statement sometime in July. But your check for the sales shown on the June 30 statement may come as late as December 31. And that's assuming you didn't get an advance or you sold enough copies in the first four months to earn out the advance. If not, you'll be waiting even longer for your first royalty check.

There really isn't much you can do about this. It's just the way things work. However, read the contract and make sure you know when royalty statements and checks are due. If you don't get them on time, ask for them.

If yours is a traditional book, the contract will probably allow the publisher to withhold a reserve against returns. This may be as high as 15-25% for hardcover books and trade paperbacks and 35-50% for mass market paperbacks, or the contract may merely allow the publisher to withhold a "reasonable" reserve. Withholding a reserve is fair because distributors can return unsold books for a refund. What isn't fair is when the reserve amount is higher than the expected return rate or the contract gives the publisher complete discretion by leaving out the word "reasonable." A good contract will also provide that amounts held for a certain period of time (usually two accounting periods or a year) will be released from the reserve fund and sent to the author with the next royalty payment.

Returns aren't common for POD and e-books, however, so those contracts should not allow the publisher to keep a reserve against returns. And if the contract covers more than one format, make sure the reserve applies to only those formats with multiple-copy print runs.

You don't want your contract to contain a joint accounting clause, which allows the publisher to offset royalties for one book with the unearned advance and author's expenses from another. If your first book doesn't earn back its advance but the second one does (or vice versa), a joint accounting clause would let the publisher apply the excess royalties from the more successful book to the remaining advance on the less successful one. There is some justification for joint accounting among the books covered by a multi-book contract since they are all part of the same deal. But watch out for joint accounting clauses that let the publisher apply royalties earned under one contract to the shortfall on a different contract with the same publisher.

On the other hand, you do want your contract to include an audit clause. This clause gives you the right to audit the publisher's financial records showing sales and expenses for your book. Ideally, you also want the contract to say that the publisher will pay the auditor's fees if the audit shows a discrepancy of 5% or more in your favor, but most of us don't have the bargaining power to insist on it.

Audits are expensive, so this clause is rarely applied. Even so, if you believe the publisher is paying you less than it owes you, simply threatening an audit may convince it to review its records and pay you any discrepancy. But the threat is worthless without an audit clause.

And we all want our publishers to show us the money.

Kathryn Page Camp

Lesson 5: For Love or Money

Some write for love, some write for money, and some write for both. But even if you write primarily for love, there's nothing wrong with receiving a fair royalty.

A royalty is the amount the publisher pays you for each book it sells. Unfortunately, dealing with royalties in your publishing contract isn't as simple as asking, "How much?" You also need to ask, "How much of what?"

Some contracts base royalties on the suggested retail price, also called the list price, of the book. Since the list price doesn't change, you receive the same amount for every sale, and that makes the math easy. While a royalty based on the retail price locks in your return, however, it makes the publisher's share less certain. This is because publishers have to cut deals with booksellers to get them to add your book to their inventory, and not all deals are done at the same price.

Some publishers deal with this problem by basing royalties on "net." This can refer to either the gross amount the publisher receives from the bookseller or to the amount the publisher receives after subtracting its expenses. If your royalties are net, make sure the contract spells out how they are calculated. Either way, the net price is quite a bit less than the retail price and makes the author's actual return vary from sale to sale.

While there is nothing intrinsically bad about net-based royalties, it takes a higher percentage--often twice as much--to make the same income you would receive from royalties figured on the retail price. So if your royalty is based on net, make sure the percentage is substantially higher than you would accept otherwise.

But what is the standard royalty percentage? There is none. Rates vary with the publisher and the type of book (hardcover, trade paperback, mass market paperback). Some contracts also increase the royalty rate at set sales levels.

Even though there is no standard royalty rate, you still want to know if yours is fair. Unfortunately, I can't tell you. What I can do is give you some typical rates paid by established publishing companies. Small presses and children's book publishers often pay less.

Hardcover: 10% of retail for the first 5,000 copies sold, 12.5% for the next 5,000, and 15% after that.

Trade Paperback: 6-8% of retail for the first 25,000 copies sold, and 8-10% after that.

Mass Market Paperback: 6-8% of retail for the first 150,000 copies sold, and 8-10% after that.

E-Book: Not only is there no standard rate, but it may be a while before the industry reaches a consensus on what is fair. If you sign with an e-book publisher or a traditional publisher that also does e-books, it may offer anything from 10% of retail to 50% of net. If it is licensing the rights to a third party, you should get at least half of what the publisher receives for the license.

Other Subsidiary Rights Licensed to Third Parties: 50% of what the publisher receives. The author's percentage may increase for subsidiary rights with a higher potential return, such as movie rights.

Writers also ask, "Should I sign a contract with a publisher that doesn't give me an advance?" Again, it's up to you. Advances are always nice because you get to keep the money if your book bombs.* But advances are not bonuses. As the name implies, they are advances against royalties. If the publisher pays you a $5,000 advance and you make a $1 royalty on each book, the publisher won't send you any more money until it has sold 5,000 copies.

This is already a long post, and I'm almost done. But I want to mention one other matter that fits better here than elsewhere.

Most publishers give you a few free copies and let you buy additional ones at a discount, which is often 40-50% of retail. (And no, you don't get royalties on these copies.) You can give these "author's copies" to friends and relatives or send them to reviewers. If you want to sell them at speaking events or book fairs, however, make sure the contract doesn't prohibit it. A clause that says the books you purchase at a discount are "for the author's own use, and not for resale" means that you can't sell them.

And even if you write for love, it's always nice to have a little extra money.

Kathryn Page Camp

* If your contract allows the publisher to recover any of the unearned advance after the book has been published, turn and run. (Before signing, of course.)

Lesson 4: Subsidiary Rights

The book contract gives the publisher the exclusive right to publish your book in hardback, paperback, and maybe (as is increasingly common) as an e-book. But your dreams are bigger than that. In your mind, you have already cast Julia Roberts or Reese Witherspoon or Emma Watson to play your heroine when the book hits the big screen. And of course it will be picked for Oprah's book club and translated into every language from Spanish to Russian to Japanese.

These are called subsidiary rights because they are not the main reason you entered into the book contract. Common subsidiary rights include:

• First serialization, or the right to publish all or part of the book as a series in a magazine or newspaper before the book comes out (following in Charles Dickens's footsteps);
• Second serialization, or the right to publish all or part of the book as a series after the book comes out;
• Movies, plays, and broadcasts;
• Audio books;
• Book club selections;
• Translations and foreign sales;
• Abridgments and condensations (think Readers Digest Condensed Books); and
• Anthologies.

E-book rights may be either primary rights or subsidiary rights, depending on the publisher's expertise and intent in that area.

Returning to our leasing analogy, who gets to find the tenants to rent these secondary rights? And why does it matter?

A building manager who finds tenants gets paid for the service, and so does a publisher. If the book contract includes subsidiary rights, the publisher gets to keep part of the rent. So if you find the tenants or let your agent do it, you'll get a larger cut.

Still, a small cut of something is better than a large cut of nothing. If neither you nor your agent has connections in the movie industry, you may want to let the publisher find a tenant for the movie rights. The same is true for other subsidiary interests.

Your contract should list the subsidiary rights the publisher can exploit and state that any rights not on the list are yours to do with as you wish. You also want a provision that lets you look for a tenant if the publisher hasn't found one within a certain period of time. (The contract may refer to it as "selling" these rights, but we know better.) Whether you can get the publisher to agree to these provisions depends on the publisher and your bargaining strength.

But if you want to see your Great American Novel come alive on the big screen, know your subsidiary rights.

Kathryn Page Camp

Lesson 3: Lease, Don't Sell

You've found a publisher for your masterpiece, and you want to be sure that it remains YOUR masterpiece. That's why the grant-of-rights clause is so important.

If you sell your house, you give up control. The new buyer can remodel your "perfect" kitchen or even tear the house down, and there is nothing you can do about it. If you rent it out instead, you can restrict the tenant's ability to make changes, say how long the lease will last, and even provide for early termination if the tenant trashes the house or falls behind in rent payments. While it isn't a perfect analogy, the same is true for copyrights.

Copyrights are property, and you can sell them. You can also rent ("assign" or "license" in copyright lingo) some or all of the exclusive rights that go with them.* These include the right to reproduce your book and to distribute it to the public. I'll deal with others next month when I cover subsidiary rights.

A grant-of-rights clause establishes who owns the copyright and who gets to exercise which of the rights that come with it. At a minimum, royalty publishers expect authors to assign them the exclusive rights to reproduce a book and distribute it to the public. And they should expect that. These rights are the main thing a royalty publisher receives in exchange for taking the monetary risk from publishing the book: a risk that wouldn't be worth taking if the author could compete with the publisher.

While a royalty publisher expects to have the benefit of these exclusive rights, it can protect itself by renting them from the author; it does not need to buy the copyright. If the publisher is responsible for registering the copyright, the contract should say it will be registered in your name. Personally, I would never sign a contract giving the copyright to the publisher. That is a sale rather than a lease, and if I wrote it, I want to own it.**

This is one place where the house analogy breaks down, however. A contract that sells the copyright to the publisher may contain provisions limiting what the publisher can do with it and providing for the publisher to return the copyright to the author if certain events occur. This is how some academic publishers handle the situation. So if you do decide to sell the copyright, make sure you can live with the terms of the sale.

The copyright lease may be, and often is, for an indefinite time, but the contract should contain some provisions for terminating it. I will talk about those clauses in a later post.

If you are paying to have the book published, there is no reason to lease out your exclusive rights. You can give the publisher permission to reproduce and sell books on your behalf and to register the copyright in your name without giving up your ability to find a different publisher or distribution method any time you want.

But if you are entering into a contract with a royalty publisher, you will have to give up some of your rights. That's just the way it is. So what do you look for when deciding whether to sign a particular contract?

For me, it's as simple as "lease, don't sell."

Kathryn Page Camp
_____

* The term "exclusive rights" is misleading, because the law allows certain fair uses. Absent a fair use, however, these rights belong exclusively to the copyright holder unless the copyright holder assigns them to someone else.

** The one exception is a work-for-hire, which I talked about in my November 25, 2010 post.

Lesson 2: What and When

What is the most important part of your book contract? You might think it is royalties or subsidiary rights or who owns the copyright, but you'd be wrong. They're all important, but if you and your publisher have different ideas about what you're writing and when you'll deliver it, nothing else matters.

One of the first clauses in your book contract should describe the work. This normally includes the book's subject matter and tentative title. You also want it to include an approximate word (or page) count. And if you haven't written the book yet, try to get the outline or synopsis attached as an exhibit.

I've seen contracts, especially with smaller publishers, that don't include information on the book. This can be dangerous, especially if you sold the book on a proposal. You don't want to give the publisher the opportunity to claim that you aren't giving it the book it bought. Most publishers are honest, but even Christian publishers have been known to weasel out of contracts when the market weakens. (In a later post I'll talk about clauses that allow publishers to cancel contracts in a more ethical manner.)

If you have a specific direction you want the book to go, try to get the contract to describe it. This will help ensure that the publisher is looking for the same book you are writing and is particularly important for edgy fiction or for non-fiction with a limited audience.

As to word count, the legal guides I've read give conflicting advice. One recommends using page count rather than word count because it provides more flexibility (since the typesetter can adjust the number of words on a page), while another disagrees. Personally, I prefer using word count because the author can control the number of words but only the publisher can control the number of pages in the final, published product.

The contract will also say when you have to deliver the completed manuscript. Sometimes it will be a single date, and sometimes the contract will ask for the manuscript in sections. Or it might set one deadline for the original manuscript and another for returning the galleys. Make sure any deadlines listed in the contract are realistic for your writing situation. Some publishers will be gracious and provide additional time, but others won't. The publishing business has certain release dates, and publishers try to fill a set number of slots for each one. If your book misses its slot, your publisher won't be happy.

Publishing contracts may also spell out how you are to deliver the manuscript. This can include both the delivery type (hard copy, disk, e-mail attachment) and the document format (e.g., Microsoft Word). Make sure you either know how to comply with these requirements or have a computer-savvy child, friend, or co-worker who can do it for you.

Because it's all about the manuscript.

Kathryn Page Camp

Lesson 1: Any Fool Can Sign a Book Contract

Okay, so first you have to have one. But once you do, signing is easy.

Unless you want to understand what you are giving up and what you are receiving in exchange.

I have decided to dedicate my 2011 posts to book contracts. And yes, you'll have to wait an entire year to read all of them. So if you are fortunate enough to have a book contract in your hand, look for other resources.* Or if you have an agent, get the agent to explain the contract to you. But if you are still waiting for both an agent and a contract, these posts may help.

I'm not going to talk about specific clauses in this introductory post, but I will tell you what you'll get out of the series. AND what you won't.

These posts will not help you negotiate the perfect deal. Unless you are already a big name, you aren't likely to get many concessions out of your publisher. And some won't negotiate at all. Since a royalty publisher takes the financial risk in the enterprise, I don't blame them for wanting to get as much from the contract as they can.

So you may be able to use the information in upcoming posts to negotiate small changes, but don't count on even doing that.

Then why do you care what the contract says? If you're desperate to publish your book, maybe you don't. At least not at the time. But somewhere down the road it will matter. Like when a large house accepts your second book and then you discover that your earlier contract says you have to offer it to that publisher first. (More about these clauses in a later post.)

If you aren't quite desperate, you may want to know what the contract says before you sign it. Even if you can't negotiate, you can walk away.

So stay tuned for Book Contracts 101.

Kathryn Page Camp

*At the 2010 ACFW Conference, the Indiana chapter's own Cara Putman discussed book contracts in a session called "Author Law 101." You can purchase a downloadable MP3 file of that session at http://www.acfw.com/conference/2010sessions.