You Used Song Lyrics in Your Self-Published Book?

Some things you never want to hear. That your best friend was swallowed by a Kaiju. That your mom won the lottery, but decided to disown all of you and retire to Fiji with the pool guy. That your little brother is now a world-famous dub-step dj.

Add to that list, "My self-published book contains song lyrics."

Some of you may be asking “You mean I need permission to use song lyrics in my novel?”

(my awesome graphic design skillz)

I was speaking at a conference recently, and during one panel the topic of using brand names and trademarks in fiction was in full swing when somebody asked the above question.

The short answer is: Yes, you need permission. Song lyrics are copyrighted material. You need legal permission from the copyright holder to reprint copyrighted material--even a line or partial line of song lyrics.

The problem was that this individual had self-published their novel… and apparently there were scenes where the protagonist sang in the shower.

OMG. He illegally used real lyrics to a popular song right there in his self-pubbed opus.

He didn’t know it was illegal.

The record label doesn’t even need to win the lawsuit, they just need to sue you with deeper pockets. You’ll capitulate and then move your family down to the homeless shelter where you’ll cry over your garnished wages for eternity.

"Hmm, this scene could use a popular song lyric..."

This alone is a strong case for having an editor. A real editor (hint: not your mom) would have caught this. Just like they would catch you using a brand name, and tell you to genericize it.

Ladies and gentlemen, don’t reprint song lyrics in your novel. Not unless 1) you wrote the darn song and have every legal authority to use it, or 2) you’ve gone through all the legal hoopla to reprint the excerpt by permission of the copyright holder.

My Non-Luddite Rant Over eBooks

Moving stinks, don’t it?

Especially when you possess more books than most county libraries.

This is just the foyer area...
Floor to ceiling, baby

I more than once heard exasperated friends (who’d I'd roped into helping me lug boxes around) ask whether I’d ever heard of eBooks.

Why yes. Yes I have.

See, I’m not really a Luddite. I have the smart phone, I do the Twitter thing (I still think people who tweet should be called twits, just saying)

But gosh darn it, I want to FEEL pages when I read a book. I love the wood pulp smell of my old battered paperbacks, and the dusty tang of all those gilt-edged hardbacks.

And there’s a part of me that doesn't entirely trust digital media.

Not the content, but the technological architecture and it’s susceptibility to manipulation by anyone with either power or an agenda. Since eBooks are a post-Napster commercial enterprise, the architecture is “locked”.

As opposed to, say, MP3s.

You can make MP3s to your heart’s content. There’s nothing really stopping you from playing, copying, distributing or sharing MP3 files—at least not from the technological side. The MP3 was originally a proprietary audio file format designed by Steinberg in Germany; they used to charge a licensing fee to create MP3 files. But no one programmed in DRM so somewhere along the line the genie was let out of the bottle and no power on earth can put it back in the bottle for Steinberg to control.

In other words, you are the master of your MP3 files. Enjoy that, revel in it, cackle a little maniacal cackle if you must.

It is different for your eBook.

Did you know that in 2009 Amazon pulled copies of George Orwell’s “1984” from Amazon AND FROM the eReader of everyone who had purchased the book? (They call that irony) It’d be like a publisher reaching into your bookshelf and removing the book you bought last week. It doesn’t even matter the reason the book was yanked: IT WAS YANKED. Sure, sure, the internet goes berserk when it happens, but this feature is BUILT INTO THE ARCHITECTURE.

Are you picking up the paranoia in my all caps?

Yeah it’s convenient, and yeah it feeds our instant gratification itch. But it’s not really ours so long as the technological architecture facilitates content control by anyone other than the end user.

What do you think, O great expanse of Internet?

Branding, it’s not just for cows anymore™

Branding, it’s not just for cows anymore™

I read it all the time: market yourself, develop a personal branding identity, stand out from the crowd by positioning yourself as a commodity. Strategy, strategy, strategy.

Yes I get it, being heard above the crowd is valuable in today’s hypersaturated market where entertainment is comingled with even the most basic purchases (Since when has beef, or milk, or orange juice needed a pithy slogan and a jingle? Save your marketing dollars trying to convince me to buy a device that warms baby wipes)

And naturally we want to save ourselves from the marketing blunders that allowed this little poor-decision-making gem of marketing dross to be unleashed on the world.

Whose bright idea was that? Almost as bad as Hong Kong's "It'll Take Your Breath Away" ad campaign. (SARS anyone?)


So I get it, I ought to read up on how to market myself to get and retain readers.


But after about five paragraphs of marketing strategy positioning doublespeak I start wondering if anything exciting is happening on twitter.

Branding is supposed to be creating an identifiable difference in your “product” that separates it from all the other products out there. When it comes to personal branding, as it is employed by authors, songwriters, bloggers, anarchists, talking vegetables, et al, branding is just having a uniquely distinguishable persona and talent.

How hard is that? We’re all unique snowflakes, right?

Well shoot, it’s hard to think about positioning yourself so your witticisms and charm bring hordes of readers to your blogs or books. It’s hard to smile for the virtual camera of interwebiness, which never sleeps and never forgets.

It’s not really that terribly hard to make up a strategy… I mean, we can armchair strategies all night long. But it’s the follow-through and the dedication (or revisifying) which ends up being the toughest part.

What’s a bloke to do?

Usually just do what you do, learn a few tricks along the way, blog about something that interests you at the time (and in that too-short free time you would normally reserve for playing video games).

That’s all I got. What about you, oh intrepid reader? Have you ever wrestled with the “Market Thyself” beast?

When It Rains It Gets Wet

So, my posts have been sparse lately, forgive me. I've been crazy busy.

I know I meant to share more info on my adventures as a ghostwriter, but MORE has happened!

A few of you might have heard of the SOUL SURFER movie coming out about Bethany Hamilton, a young surfer girl who was mauled by a shark, lost her arm, and not only returned to surfing, but became a champion surfer.
Well,

See, my dad's name right there in small letters!

I got a chance to work with my dad on the book "Raising a Soul Surfer" which he wrote with Bethany's mother, Cheri Hamilton. (Actually, my dad is the "with", it's Cheri's book)

It's a movie tie-in book. An "Inspirational Autobiography."

And I got to earn some industry cred... or maybe crud... by helping my dad to crank out the manuscript in record time. I edited, fact-checked, and occasionally rewrote chapters at Cheri's and my dad's direction.

It wasn't quite as legendary of ghostwriting 50k words in 50 hours, but it was close! haha.

Also it was an interesting glimpse into the professional world of writing.

Those of us who write take for granted that the written word is our milieu. Words are our spirit's limbs, moving them, arranging them, crafting them to convey and emote.

We forget that many many people who can communicate in person, on screen, etc, etc, etc, aren't as comfortable with words. They can say it, speak it to huge crowds with passion and clarity, but when they sit down to write a book it just doesn't come across like they want.

I suppose it's like people who are photogenic, and those who look normal until you take a picture of them and they seem to look goofy no matter what.

Or like otherwise accomplished people who can't sing in tune even with training. (I've met these people, they baffle me!)

It has been exciting to help a woman who has a pretty amazing story share it with the world...

But MAN it was a lot of work. I had to sort through a half dozen insertions and notes and possible scenes--and the deadline was like a bear gnawing on my shoulder.

It was new realms of intensity, frustration, and validation.
Sending it off to the editor on the last day before DEADline felt sooooo good.

Now I can actually spend time wroking on my book! sheesh. :)

Delusions vs. Dreams

Some people who think they are writers are delusional.

Sure those of us who write with the goal of being published (and maybe even earning a living at it) are all delusional in a way, but it's not a bad sort of delusional. It's more of a dreaming (with lots of hard work thrown in.) Writers are delusional in a similar way to those who want to be professional musicians or actors. It's a long-shot, but you can actually work hard and hone your craft until you get some breaks.

The short and skinny is that a person who writes, does so because they must. Nothing anyone else can say could persuade a writer not to write. The desire to create with words is a compelling force that they can't deny. It is part of their dreaming self, this need to write which makes them a writer. Getting published is a whole other ball'o'wax.



But there are also those wanna-be writers who are BAD DELUSIONAL. Run from them.

Bad delusional is the guy at the back of the bus who smells like incontinent cats and mutters about being an archangel. Bad delusional is playing slot machines as part of your investment portfolio. Bad delusional is quitting your day job before you even start your first novel because "Hey, I'll get a Stephanie Meyer deal right out the gate."

I once met a guy who claimed to be a writer. I asked him what he wrote.

"Oh, I haven't written anything yet."

Really? Well, if you were to write something, what genre or style would it be?

"Oh, I'm only going to write best-sellers. Or soemthing that would ensure my literary fame. I won't waste my time writing anything else."

And during twenty hubris-laden minutes he proceeded to tell me how terrible every best-seller was, how his would be superior and that he was studying what was hot right now and would just follow the formula of best-sellers to write his guaranteed hit novel. And yes, he told me how publishers would be throwing money at his feet when he told them he was about to write their next block buster.

I never knew people like this existed.

And if you haven't yet seen this video, stop, turn off the music, shut the door, press play and put down the beverage to avoid soaking something.

Writers: Don’t Sign Your Short Story Rights Away With a Bad Contract!

You know that exciting feeling when you get that acceptance letter for the story you sent out months ago on a wing and a prayer? Excitement! You prepare your awards ceremony speech as you glance at the contract and sign it with a flourish before—wait a second! You mean you didn’t read it?

“Well Mason,” you say, “Those contracts are all pretty standard, don’t you know.”
Really?

I recently had a short story accepted by a publisher, but when I got the contract I quickly saw that it would not be in my best interests to sign it.

(As it is, I'm hoping the publisher will negotiate. It never hurts to ask, right?)

The publisher asks for exclusive publishing rights to my work for the full term of copyright.

Not content with just that, the publisher also asks for exclusive rights for the full term of copyright for every known conceivable media form. But I’d only submitted my work for a print anthology.

Like most short story writers I’d like to sell my work as a reprint to some other market one day. But in case I didn’t understand it the first time, there’s a line way down in the copyright infringement section (hidden on purpose?) that tells me that “THE AUTHOR WILL NOT SUBMIT WORK TO BE INCLUDED AND/OR PRINTED IN ANY OTHER PUBLICATION.”

I don't think they wrote an author-unfriendly contract on purpose. But contracts are naturally weighted in favor of the one with leverage.

“You want to get published, right? Sign here.”

But the contract is the final act of negotiation. It sets boundaries that protect the parties involved as they engage in business together. Just like the rest of the negotiation process, a contract can be modified until each party gets the rights, terms and conditions that best serve their interests.

And not all publishers are out to get you. Some have really fair contracts. Some contracts are simply overreaching. But there are some which are exploitative, yet are signed because writers don’t know any better!

Literary agents are great because a huge part of their job is to negotiate the best, most author-friendly contract in the universe. But agents don’t deal with the short fiction market, so us writers are left on our own.
So what’s a more author-friendly rights-granting clause?

What about granting exclusive first North American printing rights [world for stuff being published online] for a set term length? Exclusivity begins with the signing of this contract and lasts for 90 days [or 6 months, or 1 year] after the date of first publication.

Hey look, now you can resell the story as a reprint! And you’re not signing the exclusive copyright over to some little magazine forever! Wow!

But what about if the publisher wants to reprint the story in a “Best Of” compilation? Well, ideally you get paid a reprint fee. Or if you’re feeling generous you can grant them a non-exclusive right to reprint. It can be for however long you want, but I’d rather limit it to a term, say 5 years. Since it’s non-exclusive you still can sell it to other markets as a reprint and your rights aren’t bound up in the publisher who first printed the story.
Another thing to look out for are contract clauses that contradict or effect others in an author-unfriendly way—whether intentional or not.

For example, the contract I got with all the “exclusive rights forever” stuff has one little line buried way down in Article 8 that says (very casually): “ALL WORK SHALL REVERT BACK TO THE AUTHOR ONE YEAR AFTER PUBLICATION OF BOOK”

Well it seems that my fears were unfounded, they say the work shall revert after a year. But what about all the “exclusive” and “for the full term of the copyright” language contained in the Rights Granted section? Do we just throw that out? Can we safely forget about it because this one little line exists?

But take a careful look at the wording. The Work shall revert? Or the rights to the work? And why isn’t this clause part of the Rights Granted section? Not to mention that it contradicts the rights already specified.

Again, I don't think there is any malicious or sneaky intent on the publisher's part. It's just a clunky contract. Lawyers make millions on parties squabbling over such contradictory and weakly worded contracts.

So, WRITER BEWARE! Read your contracts. Know what kind of rights you are willing to grant, otherwise you’ll lose’em.

Here’s a helpful copyright and contract clause website for writers and content creators: http://www.keepyourcopyrights.org/ also check out WRITER BEWARE

* Hey! Before you get all clicky on those links, why don’t you leave a comment?

Advances and Royalties De-Mushified

The publishing world is changing, but author payment schemes so far have stayed relatively the same. If you get a traditional book publishing deal you are looking at an Advance/Royalty pay structure.


I’m not going to get all technical and cover the minutiae and vagaries of how publishers account and/or abuse royalty payments. This is a De-Mushify, not de-mystify.

An author earns $0 for writing a book. He’s spent the last 5 years agonizing over scenes, characters and whether the papyrus font is cool.

He then spends countless hours trying to find an agent. If he’s lucky enough to get one, she offers to represent the manuscript for $0. (and tells the author to stick with Times New Roman font under pain of death.)

The agent then beats down the doors of publishers, pitching the book, schmoozing, calling, emailing, kibitzing, and generally working her tail off to sell this book.

No money has changed hands yet. The author and agent have done all this work for $0.

Then they find a publisher crazy enough to pick up a book about the stormy passions of two taxonomists who have discovered a new gastropod in an endangered estuary.



My cat also edits my work. (The cone is to deflect alien thought-rays)



The publisher offers the author an advance. (ooh, money!) The advance isn’t really a loan. The author doesn’t have to pay it back if the book tanks. It is the author’s to keep forever. (Or until he spends it on a plasma TV)

However, it is a loan in the sense that the author won’t see royalties until the sales of the book have recouped the advance. (There are various accounting methods that may disguise this fact, but it is a fact: the publisher recoups the advance from the author’s royalties.)

The agent takes his commission from the advance, usually 15% or so. This is how she gets paid. That’s it. 15% of the advance. If she’s a good agent, she ekes out a big advance. (Or she might negotiate a % point with the author. This is a small % of the royalties. Rare, but not unheard of.)

Now both the author and the agent have received a little bit of money for their trouble.

Then there are royalties. Every quarter, or year, or bicentennial of the Hindenburg Disaster (however the publisher computes it) the author receives a royalty check.

The amount, naturally, depends on the number of units sold during that period. But, naturally, the publisher has various obfuscating accounting methods to shake down royalties. Such things as returns, breakage, vaccinations, vacations, monkey training, cabbage farming supplies, etc.

Suffice to say, authors who get a traditional book deal usually get an advance and then royalties.

But always remember that you write for free. There is no guaranteed pay. It certainly isn’t a get-rich-quick scheme. Heck, it isn’t even a get-rich-slow scheme. My dad’s written something upward of 40 books, but I’ve seen his quarterly royalty statements to the tune of $5.

There is no guarantee. You have to be in it because you love it, not to win it.


*But what about cover art? Allow me to digress.

The publisher usually scoffs at an author who suggests an artist. In most cases the author is left to bite their nails as the publisher commissions an artist to make them a cover. The artist gets paid a flat fee for the art. No royalties, no kickbacks.

If they did the art for $500, and the book becomes a mega-seller, they still get only $500.

Bummer. So if you are an artist, try negotiating a smaller commission fee for a percentage point of sales (royalties). Or, you might have to forego the commission fee for a % point. It’s a risk, but royalties are nice.

If the publisher will go for it.