Among the property you own, you might count a house, a small business and the rights to your written work. And those rights — even if they aren’t to the Harry Potter novels — are worth something. Because your rights to your work (selling it, publishing it, etc.) are considered property, they are a part of your overall estate and comprise, in particular, your literary estate.
We may be talking about articles you’ve submitted to magazines, poems, novels or even screenplays. But no matter the form your writing has taken, it’s worth considering what will happen to it in the future. The word ‘estate’ may have been the giveaway that this post is focused on the extremely long-term, though issues regarding your literary estate may come into question during your life.
Considering a literary estate means considering some key legal issues, including who should benefit from and who is responsible for a writer’s work after his or her death. Because of the unique nature of a writer’s rights, the normal executor of an estate rarely is equipped to handle a literary estate. Copylaw has a great article about selecting a literary executor, but I’d like to point out some things that I’ve been thinking long and hard about.
Because I’ve been trying to build up a business based on writing, I’ve taken on some unusual projects and agreed to some fairly diverse rights arrangements. I know for a fact that a lawyer I could approach about the rest of my less-than-extensive estate probably wouldn’t know where to start with my literary estate. Even more complicated, I’ve been a bit lax about keeping track of certain rights — I have them written down in contracts and agreements, but I would need to create a central document to make any consideration of my literary estate easy.
I’m not dwelling on some far-off morbid day, though. I’m trying to make managing my projects simple — and having a plan to handle rights for my projects (and therefore my literary estate) makes a whole list of things easier, from defending my copyright to reselling pieces. Just chalk my interest in literary estates up to my penchant for emergency planning.
We have a short and sweet edition of the Business of Freelance Writing Carnival this week. I’m going to be on the road for the next two Saturdays and won’t be able to host a carnival until I get back. If you’re interested in hosting the carnival either next Saturday or the Saturday after that (or both), please email me. Thanks!
1565109194Just like most writers, I often struggle to put a price on my words. I try to set prices that I feel are fair and that can keep me in the style I’ve become accustomed to — that is to say, able to eat.
So, when a freelance client asks me for a discount, I have a consistently hard time deciding how to respond. Sure, there are certain situations in which I’ll give a discount — nonprofits, companies guaranteeing me long-term work, etc. — but that’s not why clients ask for discounts.
Honestly, it isn’t because they don’t value your work, either. It’s a matter of business: a good business owner always tries to minimize expenses, and one of the best techniques is asking for a discount. I’ve asked for discounts myself (and even gotten a few).
But just because a potential client asks for a discount doesn’t mean that you have to offer one. Some writers refuse to negotiate on their rates — and there are many situations where negotiations can only lose you money. Remember, most business owners are asking just to ask: the worst that can happen is that you might say no. Odds are they aren’t even really expecting a discount and as long as you stay polite, refusing won’t lose you a client
Today would have been my grandmother’s 81st birthday. Yesterday morning, my great aunt passed away. Both were incredible women. They were both known for their willingness to work hard and their insistence on doing the right thing.
Aunt Sarah lived most of her life in Centerville, Iowa (a town with a population of perhaps 5,000). Everyone in Centerville knew Sarah, and knew what she had done for the town: she went up against HUD to ensure that Centerville had low-income housing. Sarah knew that there were families in Centerville that needed help, and she made sure that they received.
My grandmother went to the same lengths. In the 70s, she headed up the Serials Department at the library of Duke University. She made waves when she not only hired African-American women to work in her department but also insisted on paying them a wage equal to that of other employees in the department.
These women inspired me, made me willing to work for what I want. I miss them, but I will always be grateful for the inspiration they brought into my life.
One of the drawbacks of working at home is that, inevitably, you don’t have as many opportunities to interact with people. You run a risk that you’ll wind up talking to the cats or the walls, and, well, that’s not good for business.
But that’s where the idea of co-working comes in. Basically, it’s the idea that a bunch of people who normally work at home get together and work together. Some co-working groups have put together pretty spiffy digs, like Independents Hall in Philadelphia: for fairly low prices, just about anybody can get internet access, the use of a conference room, a sense of community and more.
Other groups are as plain and simple as they need to be. I meet up with a loose group of co-workers once a week at my local Starbucks. We work, discuss current projects and drink a ridiculous amount of coffee. And, I’ve got to say, I look forward to it all day. I don’t mind talking to my cats, but being able to talk to real live human beings can really help me work through problematic paragraphs.
Yes, co-working isn’t as cheap as sitting home all day. But, as focused as I am on money, even I don’t think it’s all about the money. Freelancing of any kind is about having a career that you enjoy and many of us can’t do that without the occasional conversation.
On a similar theme to last week’s post on why freelance writers need to create relationships with new people, I’d like to talk about the great people that I met this weekend.
I went to PodCamp DC on Saturday: one day’s worth of sessions about new media (podcasting, blogging, etc.) and I had an amazing time! I came home with an unbelievable stack of business cards and — almost more important in my mind — notes on the things I want to talk to each person about.
I found a whole slew of people I want to interview down the road, a ton of ideas for new projects and stories and learned some new techniques. I attended the following sessions:
“Generations and Social Media” led by Jessie Newburn. Beyond the implications for social media, the way that different generations respond to different messages seems to have a huge level impact on how a freelance writer plans a project.
“Finding a Place for Social Media” led by Joel Mark Witt. Joel spoke about his experiences with an organization used to using traditional marketing methods — and how he brought that oranization around to podcasting and other social media.
“The Business of New Media” led by Paul Vogelzang. This session was one of the clearest explanations of what social media makers need to be thinking about if they aren’t interested in starving.
“Social Media and New Journalism” led by Jim Long and Andy Carvin. These two men are probably among the most forward thinking journalists online today: they’re helping to bring, respectively, NBC and NPR into the 21st century.
A live recording of “District of Corruption.” For DC-media types, I have to recommend tuning into District of Corruption regularly. It’s always interesting.
Even more important than the time I spent in sessions, though, is the time I spent meeting people. I met more people this weekend than I think I have in the past month. I think these sorts of events are crucial for writers — they keep us stimulated, thinking and creating. While the act of writing is solitary, the profession of writing can’t be.
We’ve made it to the 15th edition of the Business of Freelance Writing Carnival — and we’ve all survived the process. I’m amazed! The 16th edition is slated for next Saturday and you can submit articles at Blog Carnival!
I’ve been putting together an article celebrating an anniversary for a now defunct comic strip — don’t worry, you’ve heard of it.
But I made the mistake of assuming that the business people still managing that particular comic strip would like, you know, a little publicity and would be willing to let me use a panel or two from the 3,160 published strips they have as art for the article. I even told the editor I’d talk to them and arrange it.
The first set of email exchanges implied that they’d look into the publication and get back to me. A million years later and another set of attempts to contact the lady handling my request and I get a short response that no, we can’t use any of the strips. But, hey, it’s a cool angle and they wish me luck!
Okay, I can live with not being allowed to use their copyrighted material. It won’t kill me. Waiting until two days before my deadline, however, might.
In conclusion, writing about stuff that I either can’t go create art for myself or use stock photos — that is to say, the grand majority of pop culture — is surprisingly painful.
