It’s well known that the Writers’ Workshop boasts the most feared black ops department in the entire publishing universe . . . and there’s a long trail of corpses and smouldering corporate ruins to prove our potency.
What’s less well-known is that we’ve subverted a small number of international intelligence services, so that our skills in intercepts, decryption and data-gathering are now second only to those of GCHQ and (arguably) Mossad.
Our latest triumph? We have copies of letters and contracts sent out by Austin MacAwful to real clients of theirs.
Here is a copy of a real Austin MacDreadful sales letter.
Here is a copy of a real Austin MacTerrible contract.
My opinion on these documents:
The main thing is that they’re all crap. No letter from a genuine trade publisher – a Penguin Random House, a HarperCollins, a Macmillan or so forth – looks or smells anything like this. What you are looking at here is a fake. It’s what some not-terribly-bright people at Austin MacLoathsome think will look like a real publisher’s letter to people who have never had any dealings with publishers.
The bullshit starts with the very first line. “Your manuscript was brought to our attention at the latest board meeting when we discussed its potential and the possibility of it being published.”
Nonsense! Austin MacTerrible makes a business of vanity publishing. It doesn’t need a board meeting to decide these things. Making these offers is just part of its ordinary daily business. So yes, maybe it dresses up those ordinary routine meetings as board meetings so they’re not telling a bare-faced lie, but the purpose of referencing the board is to thrill the recipient of this letter. They took my manuscript to the board! Wow!
This is all just stagey horseshit concocted for the purposes of taking money from the unwise or gullible.
As it happens, my own career in real publishing has been long enough and prosperous enough that some of my book deals have had to be signed off and approved by the company CEO. But no one ever said to me, “Hey, Harry, we had a special meeting with the Chief Executive to determine whether we were able to proceed with . . .” Of course they didn’t. They just made an offer and my agent and I decided whether to accept it. That’s how things happen with real publishers. The whole Austin MacFrightful letter is just a ghastly pastiche of a mock-up of a shadow of how things really work.
But the letter is just a piece of unlovely marketing. The contract is where rubber hits road, and – as you’d expect – it’s where things get awful.
Just three terrible things to pick out from a much longer list:
1) The whole pay to play element
It just can’t be said too often that you should NOT pay a publisher to publish your work. There are two fine, honourable and wise approaches to publication. Those are:
A) you get a real offer from a real publisher which involves them, almost always, putting money in your pocket upfront. (Why only “almost always”? Well, for example, a poetry publisher and other micro-publishers won’t have the cash to give you an advance. But they will give you royalties, so the flow of money is always them-to-you. That’s how it should be.)
B) You self-publish. It’s free to upload your work to Amazon. They pay huge – 70% – royalties. Creating paperbacks and hardbacks is a tad more fiddly than creating ebooks, but the whole process gets easier all the time. If you pay someone else to do every part of the process (cover design, ebook formatting, etc) it’ll still come out far, far cheaper than that £2300 Austin MacRipoff offer. What’s more, Amazon won’t demand you sign your rights over to them. It will put your work in front of pretty much every reader in the entire world. And it will do so in a way that is trustworthy, reliable, honest and excellent.
[Oh, and just for the sake of absolute clarity, I should say that there actually is a place for (C) truthful old-fashioned print self-publishing. So if you’ve written a family memoir and want a few hundred copies printed and bound for local circulation – well, good for you. That too is an honourable pursuit. But in that case you should work with an honest, non-scammy firm like Matador. They won’t make you rich, but they won’t lie to you either, and they do a fine job for their clients.]
2) The sign-your-rights-away-for-ever element
When you sign a real book deal with a real publisher (a Penguin, or whomever), then yes, the author conventionally sells rights in the work for the term of copyright: life plus seventy years.
Even in trad publishing, that clause has looked ever less acceptable as time goes by. (Why not a fixed five year license term, renewable by mutual consent? That would give plenty of incentive for a publisher to work hard . . . and the author an easy escape option if things don’t work out.) But, fair dos, at least there IS a rationale. In the contracts I’ve signed in the past, a large amount of money passes from the publisher to me, and further large sums of money are spent on real editing, real marketing, and so forth. A trad publisher will argue that those investments are only made possible by the security of a basically infinite contract term.
But if you are paying a vanity publisher, those arguments make no sense at all. None.
The pay-to-play thing is basically toxic, but combine that with no exit route for the author and it becomes just unthinkable. It’s a no-brainer. No author should ever, ever sign this terrible contract.
So it can’t get worse, right?
Ha! Wrong! This is Austin MacScumball we’re talking about. The final no-no is, to my mind, probably the worst of the lot.
3) A gagging clause
This is for real. There’s a (badly drafted) clause in the MacBandit contract which runs as follows:
The drafting here is terrible. I genuinely find it hard to believe that an actual lawyer wrote and approved those words, but never mind that for now. What it kinda says in its MacIdiot way is that the author can’t do or say anything that might upset the MacMorons.
And that’s just beyond ridiculous. To be clear, I have in my life signed big book deals with Penguin Random House, Hachette, HarperCollins, Bloomsbury . . . not to mention any number of additional deals with overseas publishers, many of whom have belonged to the industry’s leading firms. And I have never ever, never ever, never ever been presented with a clause like this . . . and if I had done, I wouldn’t have signed the damn deal.
Of course, authors and publishers should work collaboratively together. Duh! We do, in theory, have highly compatible interests. Why would any author work to undermine his or her own book? In fact, why insert a clause like this at all?
The answer, I have to conclude, is that Austin MacToxic knows that a significant proportion of its clients will come to be appalled by the gap between the firm’s talk and the firm’s delivery. Those clients would rather speak the truth and place at risk their (probably somewhat notional) book sales. And the purpose of this clause, as I understand it, is to gag those people.
This clause, on its own, should be a huge red warning lamp blazing the message:
DO NOT SIGN THIS TERRIBLE CONTRACT WITH THIS APPALLING FIRM
Just say no.
If you are looking for publication yourself, then you probably want to follow these steps:
- Look for a literary agent (using this guide)
- If an agent takes you on, then great. Just follow their advice.
- If an agent doesn’t take you on, then either fix your manuscript (ideally using third party editorial help) and return to step 1 when you’re ready. Or you might perfectly well decide that you don’t want trad publishing at all, in which case . . .
- Self-publish your book for free on the Amazon Kindle platform, using this comprehensive guide as your template.
What shocks me and continues to shock me is that outfits like the London Book Fair provide a platform to Austin MacOdious and its ilk. What are they thinking? Are they truly willing to scrap for every last copper in exchange for giving up their ethics entirely? I don’t understand that at all.
Snakes will be snakes. The Book Fair should know better.