So this past Friday (yes, auspiciously Friday the 13th), I declined not one, but two offers/contracts from two different SF/F publishers. Was it a stupid or reckless thing to do? Not at all. While both are "legitimate" publishers (vs vanity press or plain ol' scammers like PublishAmerica) in my chosen genre, that does not mean they are even close to equitable when it comes to their contracts--quite the contrary. Always READ the contract--I cannot stress this enough--and if you aren't sure what a clause really means or its ramifications on you financially, or your future writing endeavors, ASK the publisher to spell it out for you. If they won't, or they try more legal gobbledygook, walk away and don't look back.
While contracts can (and often are) open to negotiation, if a publisher offers you a terrible contract in hopes you will sign, not fully grasping what you are agreeing to, or worse, that you are so eager to get published you'd sign anything...well, what does that tell you about their basic ethics? And what does it say about the publishing experience going forward if they are willing to impose horrendous conditions on writers who don't protest?
A bad contract is far, far worse than no contract. Once you sign on that dotted line, you are wedded to the publisher and the only way out usually requires the author to buy his or her way out, which can be hugely expensive (far more than any costs the publisher actually accrued in publishing your work) and time consuming. Am I equating a bad publishing contract to being doomed to hell? Well, yes I am.
So, I turn down these two publishers and feel good about it. A few hours later I get a terse response from one, and then an hour or so later, the other (both in essence wishing me "good luck" in my future writing endeavors, editor-speak for...well, let's just say neither likely gives a flying fig about my future writing endeavors). The brusque tone of their reactions was not unexpected as I'm sure my refusal was equally if not more shocking to them. Authors don't say no to a publisher dangling a contract, they just don't, not unless they are some big-name author which I am most certainly not. But I do know when to say no and walk away. And I had no doubt I'd made the right decision--for me.
Then something odd, and I must admit, terribly funny (to me) happened. The next morning (Saturday), I found messages in my inbox from both publishers asking why I'd said no. I felt quite...well, in a weird way flattered (okay, I admit this was a bit of an ego massage as after I read their tetchy responses to my refusal, I reasonably assumed that would be the last I would hear from either one of them). So, since they asked, I provided each with a detailed explanation but this was just so maybe they would rethink 1. their contract and 2. their approach to authors--and not assume they can slip one by us.
I had (and still have) no intention of signing with either. If your opening gambit is to legally trick someone into signing their life (or at least their rights) away, well...it doesn't matter if you come back to ask for a second chance (what's that old adage, "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me"?). As I said above, what does this behavior say about their basic ethics and what would it be like being under contract with them? One responded within a few hours, rather clumsily avoiding the major issues I had with them, contradicting themselves in the process and instead they kept stressing that they are not a vanity press. I never accused them of this, and I don't think they are; that said, their contract bears a striking resemblance to that of PublishAmerica.
I have yet to hear from the other publisher as my response was far more detailed, a clause-by-clause list of concerns. Maybe I'll get a response, maybe I won't. Maybe this will give both editors pause, maybe have them rethink their contracts. Maybe even rewrite their contracts to be just a wee bit more equitable but whether they do or not is moot, at least for me. There are plenty of other fish, or in this case, publishers, in the sea.
Above, illustration from Hortus Deliciarum.
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