Chapter Nine: Mostly Not Boring Business Basics

“The freelance writer is a man who is paid per piece or per word or perhaps.”
— Robert Benchley

“When I say work I only mean writing. Everything else is just odd jobs.”
— Margaret Laurence

And now, for the least fun topic of all: business talk! I promise to keep the math simple and the windedness short. Remember: This stuff may be a pain in the ass, but it’ll keep the lights on and the water running and, with hope, buy you a yacht someday. Here are the basics.

Payday!

In freelance writing, payment is all over the place. It’s sometimes great; it’s sometimes ridiculously bad. But sometimes the hilariously crappy checks are what lead to bigger and better things, while a one-time, great-paying assignment may get you nowhere in the long run. Again, choose your assignments wisely. (As I’m writing this book, I’m also working on a magazine article for 25 cents per word—coming off of an assignment that paid $2 per word—simply because the subject is fun and I think it’ll be a good clip.)

A number of factors play into what your payment will be. Generally, this is how it works: The bigger the publication, the better the pay. The more wide-reaching the publication, the better the pay. The more your experience, the better the pay. The more specialized the topic, the better the pay. The more extensive the research and reporting, the better the pay. The more you’ve written for the publication, the better the pay.

Ultimately you’ll find that your payment will depend on what the publication has available in its budget. When I’m planning an issue for Print, I’ll first look at the amount of editorial pages I have to play with (all the pages that aren’t set aside for advertising). Then I’ll look at my set budget for the issue (which we negotiate with our publisher once a year). Then I factor in our regular per-word pay rate, which influences both how many articles I can acquire and how long each article will be.

I pay writers as much as I can afford to give them. Editors often find themselves in a “use it or lose it” budget scenario, where they want to spend their full budgets so that those budgets aren’t lowered the next year. If a pay rate extended to you is truly awful, the publication might just be pinching pennies—but often the cheapness goes far up the food chain, and the editor is merely attempting to do the best she can with the small budget she was given.

One publication might pay a standard rate of, say, 25 cents per word. Another might have a much higher standard rate and, often, tiers of payment—for example, 30 cents per word for front-of-the-book content, 60 cents for features, 75 cents for a feature writer who has been working for the publication for years, and $2 for a well-known writer who contributes on occasion.

It’s worth noting that publications often have different payment models. I tend to like per-word payment structures best because you get the most accurate representation of your compensation. The dilemma for many writers is that they don’t take into account or know the time involved in different types of assignments. A 1,000-word opinion column is going to be a hell of a lot easier to bang out than a 1,000-word investigative piece. So if an editor offered me 40 cents per word for a 1,000-word column, I’d take it, but I’d narrow my eyes at a 40-cents-per-word pay rate for the investigative piece. As a writer, begin to recognize your strengths and to know which articles you find the most rewarding and which you’re best at—and thus which you’re the fastest at producing.

Some publications pay per assignment. For example, they’ll offer $600 for a column or $1,500 per feature. (In those cases, since I’m fond of per-word rates as a standard, I’ll take the word count and divide the pay by the words to determine my fee—and my level of interest.)

Some assignments pay per hour, but you’ll find that setups like this most often apply to the business world, PR/advertising, editing, etc.

When it comes to writing for magazines, newspapers, websites, and so on, be weary of the editor who asks, “How much do you charge?” That puts the power in his court and begins a psychological game in which you don’t want to lowball yourself but you also don’t want to price yourself out of the market.

In those situations, I would ask, “How much do you generally pay writers for this type of assignment?” Or “What do you have in your budget?”

The goal is to get as much as you possibly can and to work within the publication’s budget. They know how much they can afford to pay, and an honest editor will pay a writer as much as he can while staying within his budget.

Every year, Writer’s Market surveys a number of professional organizations to determine the high, low, and average payments for various writing endeavors. Here are a few highlights. While this book focuses on editorial freelancing, I’ve included some advertising and PR items here to give an idea of the take across various disciplines.

This, with hope, will serve as a good starting point for knowing the ins and outs of compensation.

Contract Basics

First things first: When an editor asks you to write a piece, make sure you will, in fact, be getting a contract for it. Without one, you’re at the mercy of your editor on everything from rights to word count, and you have no recourse should the editor decide to kill the piece, close up shop, or, well, not pay you.

Contracts are awful and no one wants to deal with them, but we have to—and, in fact, understanding the terms of a contract is vital to making sure you don’t get a raw deal. To begin, after your article pitch has been accepted, you’ll generally receive an e-mail or phone call along these lines.

Magazines and Trade Journals
	High	Low	Average
Arts reviews	$1.25/word	12 cents/word	63 cents/word
Book reviews	$1.50/word	20 cents/word	73 cents/word
Consumer magazine columns	$2.50/word	37 cents/word	$1.13/word
Consumer front-of-book articles	$850 project total	$320 project total	$550 project total
Ghostwritten articles1Higher paying because you’re doing all the work and receiving none of the credit.	$10/word	65 cents/word	$2.50/word
Trade journal feature articles	$3/word	20 cents/word	$1.20/word
Medical/scientific writing	$2/word	25 cents/word	$1.12/word
Newspapers
	High	Low	Average
Arts reviews	60 cents/word	6 cents/word	36 cents/word
Book reviews	60 cents/word	25 cents/word	44 cents/word
Unsyndicated columns	$1/word	38 cents/word	50 cents/word
Feature writing	$1.60/word	10 cents/word	59 cents/word
Other Fields
	High	Low	Average
Advertising copywriting	$3/word	30 cents/word	$1.57/word
Catalog copywriting	$350/item	$30/item	$116/item
Press/news releases	$2/word or $750/page	50 cents/word or $150 page	$1.20/word or $348/page
Brochures, booklets, flyers	$2.50/word or $800 page	35 cents/word or $50/page	$1.21/word or $341/page
Corporate periodicals	$3/word	$1/word	$1.71/word
Newsletters	$5/word or $1,250/page	$1/word or $150 page	$2.31/word or $514/page
Technical writing	$160/hour	$30/hour	$80/hour
Government agency writing/editing	$1.25/word	25 cents/word	75 cents/word

Dear Zac,

We would like to commission this piece as pitched.2A rarity! In general, editors try to twist and contort your idea to their nefarious whims. We can offer you 40 cents per word for the piece, set to run at 2,000 words. We would be looking at a deadline of 11/15.

Please let me know if you accept, and I’ll get an official contract sent your way.

All my best,

Tom

Editor

From here, you can either accept immediately or work back and forth with the editor on the deadline until you reach an agreement. If you feel the fee is too low, you can also negotiate an increase by offering a logical argument.

Tom,

Thanks so much. I’m thrilled you’re interested in the piece and would love to do it. The deadline and word count sound good, but might you be able to go any higher on the fee? Given that I’ll be talking to nearly twenty-five sources for the article, it will involve an extra allotment of time, especially to get it in by11/15.

Many thanks in advance for your time and consideration, Tom.

Regards,

Zac

Dear Tom,

Thanks so much. I’m thrilled you’re interested in the piece. The deadline and word count sound good, but might you be able to go any higher on the fee, or offer reimbursement for the phone calls I’ll be making? Because the article will involve a high number of international phone calls, I worry that the cost of the phone bills may rise higher than the sum of the article.

Many thanks in advance for your time and consideration, Tom.

Zac

Tom’s budget may be exhausted, and he may very well tell you so or explain that the fee is the magazine’s standard rate, etc. If you really feel it’s not worth it, you can bail—but understand that you may never get an assignment with that publication again. (Of course, if the fee is too low, you might not want to approach Tom ever again.)

In my experience, you may get a few more dimes if you push back, but it likely won’t be a game-changing increase. One quickly gets the sense that there’s not a whole lot of wiggle room.

Some contracts are simple. Others are like phone books and include appendices and various clauses that sign your life and work away.

Let’s take a look at a sample contract covering the essentials. As with most legalese, there is always a simpler translation, which I’ll attempt to provide after every section.

Zachary Petit Publications, (“ZPP” or “Publisher”) makes, and Writer accepts, the assignment described above on the terms and conditions set forth in this Agreement.

1. Delivery/Acceptance

Writer agrees to submit, no later than the Submission Deadline noted above (unless Publisher agrees in writing to an extension), the completed manuscript in a mutually agreed upon digital text file format together with, for any persons depicted in accompanying photographs or illustrations, identification and background facts sufficient to permit the writing of appropriate, accurate captions and accompanying text. The completed manuscript, together with any supporting photographs, art, tables, or sidebars (each to be delivered in a format and medium acceptable to the Publisher), shall constitute the Work. Writer shall also obtain and provide, at Writer’s sole expense, written permission for use of third-party material and appropriate model/subject releases for any accompanying photographs, each to be in a form provided by or acceptable to the Publisher.

Acceptance by Publisher of the Work will be by specific written notice. Requests for changes, approval of draft materials, favorable or unfavorable comments, and other matters in communications to the Writer will not be deemed conditional acceptance, acceptance or rejection by Publisher.

In a nutshell: You must abide by your deadline, e-mail the file, and provide credits and permissions for everything you’ll be sending in. (Some publications include fines for every day the submission is late.)

What you want is “Payment on Acceptance,” which means that when the editor signs off on the piece (per the terms indicated in the contract), he also asks the accounting department to cut you a check. “Payment on Publication” is where the waters get murky and a writer can become trapped in the quicksand of BS. I’ve heard horror stories about writers selling their work on POP contracts and then the publication holds the story for a few years, or indefinitely—meaning no payment. Newer publications and financially unstable publications are most often the culprits here. In general, I would never write for a publication that offers these terms. (Once the baton of the article has been successfully passed from writer to editor, your work is done. If a publication wants to sit on or hold an article, it should be at their financial disadvantage, not yours.)

This one is a biggie. Seeing anything containing the words “kill,” “dead,” etc. in a contract is not something most new writers are comfortable with. But a kill fee is actually a good thing, and something you want to see in your contract. Basically a kill fee is a level of insurance for both the writer and the editor. If an editor decides to cancel an article for any reason—it may be that it’s bad and simply unfixable, that the publication is canceling the thematic issue the article was set to appear in, that the publication is closing, etc.—then he can enact the kill fee, which pays the writer a percentage of the original agreed-upon fee. I generally issue kill fees at around 25 percent. So, for instance, if WD contracts me to write an article that pays $1,200, and I completely drop the ball and fall off the radar, the editor would cut me a check for $300 (and never talk to me again).

Having a kill fee in a contract lets the editor know that he won’t be screwed should the writer totally botch the assignment, and it lets the writer know that just because a nitpicky diva editor doesn’t like the piece, a portion of the work will still be compensated.

I should add here that I’ve only ever had to pay three, maybe four, kill fees in my time as an editor. Editors don’t like paying kill fees. It means that they’ll have a hole in their next issue that will need quickly filled, and that they’ll be ponying up some dough for the privilege. Thus I always work with a writer to salvage articles and only have deemed them unsalvageable in a couple of instances. (Most of these situations involved writers who were difficult to work with or refused to make changes.) The other instance when I enacted a kill fee was after a magazine I worked for commissioned a year of a column shortly before finding out that they had to cut eight pages from every issue that year, resulting in the column being canceled and a year of kill fees paid.

3. Grant of Rights

Exclusive Rights

Writer hereby grants and assigns to the Publisher the following exclusive rights in the Work:

• First North American Print Serial Rights;

• the perpetual, worldwide right to reproduce, display, and distribute the Work in digital, individually retrievable form via a website or database associated with the Magazine identified above

Nonexclusive Reuse Rights

Writer further grants and assigns to the Publisher the following additional, nonexclusive rights in the Work:

• the perpetual, worldwide right to repurpose and republish your work in other publications published or licensed by ZPP,

• the perpetual, worldwide right to license adaptation and translation of your work for republication in domestic and foreign distribution, and

• the perpetual, worldwide right to include, and license the inclusion of, your work in digital media and databases, in individually retrievable form or otherwise, and for electronic reproduction, display, and distribution by any means (whether now known or hereafter invented).

The grant of rights is a core element of a contract. It says, essentially, what you’re giving up. Grants of rights can appear in different variations, the most distinct being “First Rights” vs. “All Rights.” Ideally you want “First Rights”—meaning the publication has first dibs to publish what you’ve written. After they’ve published it, the rights revert back to you, the writer, and you can repackage or resell the piece elsewhere, post it on your website, sell it to an anthology, etc. With “All Rights,” everything is not all right—the publication has eternal rights to your piece, to do with it what they will.

Going bullet by bullet, the second point in the previous excerpt just means that the publication has the right to put the piece on their website, etc., for as long as they’d like.

As for the nonexclusive rights, the first bullet means that the publication is allowed to reprint the piece in an anthology, collection, etc. Whether or not you’ll be paid for it depends on the info in the following excerpt. The second bullet indicates that the publication can have it translated or adapted for foreign editions. The third (which can get tricky) is a blanket clause a publication uses to secure all digital rights for the future—the kicker is the “whether now known or hereafter invented.” When e-books first emerged, publications were thrown into a tizzy because the contracts writers originally signed were specific to the print rights that existed at the time. Debate then emerged about who had the e-book rights. Clauses like this seek to clarify and strengthen the publisher’s hold on the work for whatever might be invented in the future.

4. Compensation

Provided that the manuscript and all other elements comprising the Work are delivered on time and are satisfactory to Publisher in both form and content, Publisher shall pay to Writer within 45 days of acceptance of the Work for publication, as a one-time fee, the Compensation specified above.

In the event Publisher reprints the Work in any of its books or other print magazines, Publisher shall pay to Writer an additional sum of 25% of the original Compensation for each such reprint upon publication of same. Writer shall bear his/her own expenses unless, and to the extent, reimbursement is authorized above. Any authorized reimbursement is limited to the Writer’s reasonable and necessary costs, in accord with the Publisher’s expense reimbursement policy, and conditioned upon acceptance of the Work for publication and the Writer’s submission of receipts or other acceptable evidence of disbursement.

This section of the contract informs the writer when the check will be cut (in this case, forty-five days after acceptance). It goes on to add that if the company reprints the material in another of their publications (an anthology or annual collection, for instance) the writer will receive a fun-money check of 25 percent of the original fee. (Yay!) It also lays down the law that you’re not allowed to recklessly rack up McDonald’s charges (or any others) as you write the piece and then invoice them to the magazine.

5. Right to Edit

Publisher reserves the right to make such editorial changes as are necessary to conform the manuscript to its house style and standard usage. Publisher agrees that in the event it determines that material, substantive changes to the manuscript are necessary or appropriate, Publisher will make reasonable efforts, time permitting, to contact and consult with the Writer and take into account the Writer’s comments prior to publication of the Work as revised.

In other words, editors gonna edit. And they’ll try to work with you so that everyone is happy (unless the deadline is in the next forty-five minutes).

7. Writer’s Representations and Warranties

Writer warrants that, with respect to Writer’s contributions to the Work: Writer is the sole and original author of the Work (excepting any material identified in the Work as third-party material) and has full power and authority to make the grant of rights set forth herein; Writer is not restricted by contract from entering into this Agreement or carrying out Writer’s obligations hereunder; the Work contains no matter that is libelous, an invasion of privacy, or otherwise unlawful; the Work does not infringe upon any statutory copyright, common-law literary right, or proprietary right of any third party; Writer has used and will use all reasonable care in the creation, research, and preparation of the Work to ensure that all facts and statements in the Work are true and correct in all material respects; and no instruction, formula, direction, recipe, prescription, or other matter contained in the Work will cause injury or damage.

By signing the contract, you’re verifying that no secret parties ghostwrote the piece for you, and that you have the rights to what you’ve written, which you’re now handing over to the publication. Furthermore, you’re doing due diligence and not providing anything that will get the publication sued.

You’ll find this in many contracts. Essentially it means that if the publication gets sued for what you’ve written, you’ll be responsible for it—not the publication. Obviously many writers take umbrage with this and may seek to get it struck from a contract. (I do.) “All claims” is a bad thing—it not only means that you’ll be responsible for ethical breaches (which you should be) but also that any Joe Schmo can sue you for something absurd. If you push back on a publisher regarding this line, mention that many publications no longer abide by this tenet and that it could infringe upon your ability to freely and truthfully report a story. Many resources about such contractual language can be found online.

9. Noncompete

Writer agrees not to write, prepare, participate in, permit the use of the Writer’s name in connection with, or be financially interested in any work on the same subject intended for publication within 90 days of the first scheduled publication date of the Work unless the Writer has obtained the prior written consent of the Publisher.

Basically, you can’t take the subject of what you just wrote for a publication and sell it to one of their competitors the next day (unless, of course, it’s your area of expertise and you’re always going around hawking it, in which case you can negotiate this clause per the “prior written consent” above).

10. Independent Contractor

Writer shall be an independent contractor for all services performed pursuant to this Agreement, and nothing herein shall be construed, by implication or otherwise, as creating an employer/employee, principal/agent, or co-venturer relationship between Publisher and Writer. Accordingly, no tax withholding shall be made from payments to Writer under the provisions of this Agreement. Notwithstanding the aforesaid, Publisher shall have the right to make such withholdings and report any payments made to Writer as required by law. Writer shall not be entitled to receive any employment benefits, including but not limited to vacation pay, sick leave, retirement benefits, Social Security, workers’ compensation, disability, or unemployment benefits, offered to employees of Publisher.

You’re a freelancer and not a staffer, and you’ll be paid untaxed—meaning you’ll have to pay the taxes you owe to Big Brother next April, lest he come after you. Moreover, the publication will be reporting what you were paid to the IRS so the IRS knows to come after you. And, finally, in case you were wondering, writing a front-of-the-book piece does not mean you’ll get a 401(k) and two weeks of paid vacation.

11. Miscellaneous

This Agreement represents the entire agreement of the parties with respect to the subject matter hereof and supersedes any prior or contemporaneous writings with respect thereto. Any changes to this Agreement must be made in writing and signed by all parties. Any dispute, controversy, or claim arising out of or relating to this Agreement, or the breach, termination, or invalidity thereof, shall be settled by arbitration by a single arbitrator under the Commercial Arbitration Rules/Expedited Procedures of the American Arbitration Association and judgment on the award rendered by the arbitrator may be entered in any court having jurisdiction thereof. This Agreement shall be binding on and inure to the benefit of the parties hereto and their respective successors and permitted assigns; provided however that, as this is an agreement for personal services involving a relationship of confidence and trust between Publisher and Writer, this Agreement, and any rights and obligations arising hereunder, may not be assigned, sold, pledged, or otherwise disposed of, in whole or in part, by Writer without Publisher’s prior written consent and then only in accordance with such consent.

Such legalese basically amounts to the following: Break the rules, and we’ll see you in court.

Reviewing a contract can be daunting. But realize that most of this language is not unlike the body armor worn by a street cop—there in case of an emergency, and otherwise just there, without incident, 99 percent of the time. If editors had their way, they wouldn’t even use contracts—they’re a pain in the ass to create, send, and file. But the lawyers call the shots, and they’d be suing the editors if someone sued the publication. So the contract stays.

The important thing is to ensure that your contract covers the needs of both writer and publisher—and doesn’t put the ball unfairly into anyone’s court or infringe unnecessarily upon your basic artistic and creative freedoms, not to mention your wallet.

Start a dialogue. Explain what’s bothering you, and inquire if anything can be done about it. Some editors will just say, “Sure,” scratch off an offending clause, and then mail it back for you to sign. Others will flat out tell you they can’t touch the contract lest a lawyer materialize to fire them.

Get a feel for your bearings, and engage in a polite, open dialogue about any issues you might have.

“Can You Send Me an Invoice?”

Well, can you? If you know the basics, it’s simple. A publication needs an invoice to initiate the payment process and provide record of the transaction. They’ll ask for it once they’ve formally accepted your article. When you draft your first invoice, save a template version that you can reuse every time. Basically an invoice includes the following:

You could plop all that into a Word doc with no formatting and no frills and send it off. But on some weird psychological level, a nice-looking invoice denotes professionalism and makes you seem like you’re running a top-notch business. Get into your editor’s head. Templates can be found on many software programs and everywhere around the Web.

Wait a Second …

But what happens if the forty-five days pass and you still haven’t seen hide nor hair of a check? You, my friend, are dealing with a delinquent client.

The first step is to reach out to your editor—calmly!—and just say that you’re e-mailing to check on the status of the invoice. Stuff happens on the editorial end—even if it’s just overlooking the invoice and lazily forgetting to submit it on time.

Try again. And then once more, if you don’t get a response. At this point, you’re still operating under the assumption that a simple mistake has been made. Who knows? The editor might be on vacation.

Let’s kick it up a notch. Look on the masthead and go up a level. If your contact was an associate editor, go to the managing editor. If your contact was the managing editor, try the editor. Again, tread lightly, but get your point across.

[date]

Hi Mr. Bernaise,

My name is Zachary Petit. I recently wrote a piece about Oscar Boynton for The Daily Herald. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Roger Sherman regarding payment for the article, which I have not yet received.

Might you be able to help me out, or point me in the right direction?

Many thanks,

Zac

Zachary Petit

[phone]

Some will say that I’m being too lenient and not harsh enough. But remember: You catch more flies with honey, and all that. I’m still giving the editor the benefit of the doubt, in case my e-mail has been landing in a spam in-box or the check was mailed to the wrong place. After all, if your experience was good and it’s a venue you’d like to keep writing for (assuming they, well, pay writers), it’s not time to burn the bridge quite yet.

But let’s say the publisher doesn’t respond. The entire editorial staff has seemingly gone MIA. Before we get the matches out, let’s first try the accounting department. Compose a polite message explaining the situation, the amount, the invoice number, and so on. Send it off. Cross your fingers.

Flick the match. Screw the bridge. If it doesn’t serve its purpose, then you don’t want to be traveling on it anyway.

It’s time for a demand letter.5To prevent my own ass from landing in court, it’s disclaimer time! This is shared wisdom, not “official legal advice.”

This is the last chance for the publication to pay you what’s due. If they don’t, everyone’s headed to court. And this demand letter (along with your other correspondence) is what you’ll happily show the judge.

First off, remain calm. State the facts. Don’t get overly emotional. Moreover, be as concise in detail as you can. Provide names. Dates. Times.

Oct. 1, 2015

Dear Daily Herald editor Roger Sherman, publisher Tom Bernaise and head of accounting Denise Reinhold,

On July 5, 2015, Roger Sherman contracted me to write a 2,000-word profile of local theater ticket-taker Oscar Boynton at a rate of .50 cents per word ($1,000 total). The article was turned in and formally accepted on July 20, 2015, and was published on July 28, 2015. Thirty-five business days after payment was due (per the publication’s thirty-day payment terms), I contacted Roger Sherman via e-mail on September 5, 2015 to inquire about its status. I received no response. I followed up on September 10 and September 15, and received no response. Phone calls placed to Sherman were also not returned.

On September 20, I contacted Tom Bernaise via e-mail and telephone and received no response. On September 25 I contacted Denise Reinhold via e-mail and telephone and received no response.

This letter is to inform you that the payment of $1,000 for the article is now fifty-three business days overdue. If I do not receive full payment of $1,000 by Oct. 8, 2015, I will immediately begin pursuing legal remedies.

Regards,

Zachary Petit

[phone]

[email]

Make copies—those will come in handy should you need to venture over to small claims court to recoup your grand. And finally, keep a record of when you sent the letter and track it, just in case the nefarious Roger Sherman claims he never received it.

Keep Your Eyes Peeled

I’ve never had to pen a demand letter (well, until now). And you shouldn’t ever have to either. The key to avoiding such awfulness is to know which markets to avoid from the start.

Here are some warning signs that a market might be one you don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Learn to read the writing on the wall and to know what buzzwords should make you immediately suspicious.

“Start-Up”

Recoil like a snake at the mention of working for a start-up. It might be good for a clip or to have some fun, but if you’re in it for a paycheck, as my editor put it: “It’s like entering a bear cave with steak strapped to your legs.” Start-ups are notorious for not having adequate funding, for leaving writers hanging, for holding articles indefinitely, and, moreover, for going out of business.

“Payment on Publication”

I mentioned this a moment ago, but it’s worth noting again here.6And I should add that while throughout this book I often generalize “publications” to mean any outlet for your work, here, we’re talking “publications” in the most literal sense. Websites offering a “payment on publication” model are less of an issue because the “publication” happens almost instantaneously. You have to immediately question why a publication would not pay on acceptance.

My friend, writer Linda Formichelli, once likened it to going out to a store to get a new suit. You wouldn’t grab the suit, tell the clerk at the register that you’ll send the store a check if you decide to wear it, and then head out the front door.

So why would a publication not pay on acceptance? Well, for one, they might not have enough money to cut the check right away (a bad sign). … And, who knows, if that ad they’re hoping to get from McDonald’s doesn’t come through, they might not have the funds at all.

Moreover, as a writer, you don’t know how long you’re going to have to wait. (I’ve held some pieces, for one reason or another, for more than a year. While the writers of those pieces were likely—and understandably—annoyed, their fury would have been much greater had I also withheld their check.) Is it a weekly publication? Monthly? Bimonthly? Quarterly? All will affect when that check will finally hit your mailbox. So before you agree to such a contract, get the date—in writing—of when your article is set to publish.

Publications with a Reputation

If you’d like to pitch a new market that you’ve discovered, do a little background research first. Think of it as the requisite Google stalking you do before going on a date with someone. You don’t want to find yourself in a bad relationship.

Moreover, writers are bad people to piss off. What we do is write. So if we get ripped off, there’s a good chance we’ll write about it. And a cursory Google search of your new market will often reveal any complaints that have been filed on the Web.

Also, don’t hesitate to Google the name of your market with a “BBB” to see if anything comes up on the Better Business Bureau. You probably should drop by the “Bewares, Recommendations & Background Check” forum on Absolute Write (a fantastic website) to stay abreast of the latest bad business out there, as well.

Anything on Craigslist

There has been a rash of news stories lately about people being held up/beat up in parking lots because of predators and deals gone wrong on Craigslist. So it is with the writing services tab of the site. Like most things on Craigslist, from “massages” to $100 cars, there’s more than meets the eye to a lot of posts. And Craigslist is where many the desperate freelancer goes to scrape the bottom of the barrel, to varying effect. Expect a lot of too-good-to-be-true offers promising you thousands every week for selling your words! Avoid them. Avoid princes from Nigeria who would like their life stories told in exchange for $1M USD. Avoid exciting new START-UPS offering $25 checks with Payment Upon Publication terms. Avoid trading your words for anything other than cash.

Sure, there are a few viable writing opportunities to be found from time to time.7In fact, while working for a weekly newspaper, I once sought out columnists on Craigslist. But I did so because nobody at the paper would give me the money to post on JournalismJobs.com. And I did so fully realizing my ad was two clicks away from comprehensive listings of escorts in the area. But if you’re really looking for a place with legitimate job postings, try Mediabistro, JournalismJobs.com (more for the newspaper crowd), Elance, and other resources, such as Career Builder or Ed 2010.

“Trial Period”

Think of this market as one you would encounter walking down a city street late at night. “Hey, guy, come over here, I wanna show you somethin’,” a man in a bowler hat and tattered coat would call from the depths of an alley.

These markets are skeezy. They’re up to no good. And they’re known for screwing over writers.

The basic ruse is that they’re recruiting new writers for this or that, but first they want to see if you’ve got the chops, so rather than looking at clips like a normal publication would, they’d like to take you for the old test-drive. And the result is that you get taken. You write a bunch of articles for them for free, they publish them, and then they magically decide, Well, this isn’t working out! On to the next scribbler! (This type of market is commonly found online.)

“Get Your Free Sample!”

Similar in scumbaggery and level of deceit, but slightly more merciful in scope, these publications will ask you to write a “sample” piece for them so they can determine if you’re a good fit. And before you know it, you’re looking at your piece online while simultaneously reading an e-mail that says you’re not a good fit.

Content Mills

You didn’t really expect me to get all the way through the book without hating on them one last time, did you?

The Terrible Subject of Taxes

For this nefarious topic, I was originally going to contact some tax experts and have them pen this part of the book. But then it hit me: Why hand the keys to the castle over to some suits and pantsuits whose words none of us will be able to understand anyway?

Let’s go it alone. I’ll cover the basics in the broadest sense, and in the easiest language, possible. (And I promise to have a tax expert look this over before it publishes so she can verify that I’m not going to get us all thrown in debtor’s prison.)8With many thanks to the brilliant Eric Eggemeier and Corinne Tirone Eggemeier for subsequently looking this over and assuring me I probably won’t land any of us in a Victor Hugo–style lockup. 9High time for yet another reminder that this does not constitute formal legal advice—just the musings of another harmless writer.

Tax deductions can seem like a mystical world to writers. Should you try to get them? Will you get called out by the IRS for trying to get them? Are you legitimate enough to declare yourself a bona fide independent business owner to curmudgeonly Uncle Sam?

For too long I lived in fear of deducting anything. I figured I hadn’t made enough money or earned my stripes as a full-blown freelancer, and would get called to the floor by the IRS if I listed my $80 recorder as a deduction.

So for years I stupidly lost money, and I missed out on a lot of legitimate deductions I could have deployed had I only known the most basic ropes of the game. As I’m writing this, it’s tax season. And you bet your backside that next to my new iMac is a huge pile of receipts that I fully intend to write off.

The Facts of Life

So this is what sucks: If you made at least $600 from any one client in the previous year, every January or February said client will send you a 1099—essentially a form stating how much, total, they paid you. They’ll also be so kind as to send a copy to the government to further ensure that you pay your dues. As mentioned earlier, every check you received for freelance work was completely untaxed—meaning you now have to pay up.

As freelancers, we’re taxed higher than your average bear. We don’t have bighearted, generous employers throwing into Social Security on our behalf, and so because of our independence, we pay a higher premium. We are those employers. This is exactly why we want to accrue all the deductions we can to offset our higher taxes.

For purposes of classification, when you’re an official employee of a company, you get a W2 every year stating your earnings and so on. As a freelancer, you have a whole other host of alphanumerically designated forms to deal with.

Rather than dealing with all the forms and rifling through a million pages with a pencil, I use the business edition of a tax software program, which is usually one step up from the basic model and costs a few bucks more, but is always worth it. The program will cover all of your essentials and walk you through the process so that even someone like me, who was highly encouraged to take more Algebra instead of stepping up to Calculus with everyone else in high school, finds the whole thing to be manageable and simple. The software will prompt you for the dollar amounts directly correlating to the line items on your government forms, help you determine your status as a freelancer, let you know what deductions or privileges you’re eligible for, and so on. And here’s the crucial part: It’ll crunch all the data for you, tell you what you owe, and let you know if you’re in audit territory.

In the year leading up to this excruciating game, take simple steps to ensure that you’ll be ready when April 15 draws near. Every time you get a paycheck, set aside a percentage of it so that you won’t take a financial gut shot in April. (Thirty percent of every check is a good amount to bury in your backyard.) Moreover, whenever you pay for anything that has anything to do with your freelance work, keep the receipt. Stash it in a folder, even if you’re not sure you’ll be able to use it. You’ll be glad you did.

Deduction Time!

Now here’s the burning question, and perhaps the only exciting thing in this entire section: What can you deduct? A lot. Let’s dive in here.

Your home office. Think rent! Taxes! Repairs! The possibilities are endless if you set up a room in your house as your home office.

Debbie Downer says: Here’s where things can get a wee bit tricky. You’ll need to figure out the percentage of your home that you use as an office. (You can do so by dividing the square footage of your home vs. your office—simple math that even I’m capable of.) From there, you can deduct portions of your home office expenses as applied against your home.

Computer. Gone are the days when a computer was a luxury item. Now the government recognizes that a writer needs much more than a pen, paper, and bottle of cheap gin to do her job.

Debbie Downer says: But, of course, the Minecraft game on your computer isn’t going to look so good to the IRS, nor is your collection of meditative whale songs (unless you’re a video game writer or a whale songwriter, I suppose). In other words, if you’re deducting 100 percent of your computer, it should be 100-percent used for business only.

Office supplies and equipment. Think digital recorders. An extra monitor for your computer. A mouse pad. Paper. Postage.

Debbie Downer says: Just don’t go nuts. You don’t want to build yourself a technological wonderland to the tune of $20,000 and make $23 in freelance income that year.

Software. This makes the sucker punch of having to pay for a basic writing program that should have come with your computer in the first place a little less painful. (I’m looking at you, Microsoft Word.)

Debbie Downer says: Again, don’t forget Big Brother. He’s watching when you’re using Microsoft Word to create a Little League batting order for your son’s team.

Phone and Internet. Yes, you indeed need both to be able to function as a working writer today.

Debbie Downer says: But you’re not doing business when you’re calling Uncle Larry in Tampa to see if he can score you Disney World tickets at a discounted Florida resident rate. Or when you’re blowing through gigabytes of data to download the latest Hollywood blockbuster. Remember: Keep track of percentages.

Subscriptions. How are you supposed to write for magazines if you don’t get any? Now is the time. Also, this category could include memberships in professional writing organizations, online stylebooks, and things of that nature.

Debbie Downer says: But not membership to your local cat appreciation club. Unless you write for Catmondo!, I suppose.

Writing conferences. Not only fun and great networking opportunities, but also highly deductible—including travel expenses!

Necessary tomes. Time to pick up that copy of Writer’s Market I’ve been rambling about.

Debbie Downer says: Not all books qualify. For instance, you’ll have to pay for that first-edition copy of Carrie you’ve been lusting after. Just think of how good it would look on your bookshelf …

Transportation and travel—within reason. Need to travel to meet with your editor about a big project? That can be deducted. As can mileage to a research site, a trip to interview sources, and so on.

Debbie Downer says: But you can’t just go on a month-long journey to Belize to research an article you’re flirting with pitching to an editor. Well, you could, I suppose, but I wouldn’t advise it—unless you bring me back souvenirs.

Business meetings. Go ahead. You know you want to have a glass of bourbon with your editor.

Debbie Downer says: Just don’t take her on a trip to Belize—unless you both bring me back souvenirs.

Website and other promotional materials. While my website runs on WordPress, GoDaddy handles the hosting. But that doesn’t mean I’m proud to be forking over a chunk of change every year to a company known for trashy Indianapolis 500 ads featuring Danica Patrick. This, like the Microsoft Word situation, softens the blow.

Debbie Downer says: If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just switch Web hosting providers?

The program that does your taxes. This is divine, and probably my favorite item on the list.

There are lots of other things you could theoretically expense. But in all honesty, I’m not comfortable putting the more ludicrous ones here. I have friends who abuse the system to comical degrees, but I’m more reserved. The Clash taught me long ago what happens when you fight the law: The law tends to win.

The Hobby Loss Rule

So maybe you’re hesitant to file any deductions. Is your writing a hobby at this point, or a business? Turns out the government can actually help us a bit here.

The rule of thumb: If you strike freelance gold and come out in the black three years out of five, you’re viewed as an official business. If you have lost money in three out of five years, you’re more likely to be classified as a hobbyist, and the IRS may get all twitchy, thinking you’re trying to get undue deductions by misclassifying something.

That being said, Uncle Sam is at least practical. He acknowledges that you likely won’t be making a profit right out of the gate—and that you can file necessary deductions as you work yourself up to a point of profitability.

EINs

To go further down the business rabbit hole, how far should you go in legally formalizing your business dealings?

While that rabbit hole runs vast and deep, and is a question best left to an accountant, I would recommend getting an Employer Identification Number—a.k.a. an EIN. You can obtain one for free in minutes: All you have to do is log onto the IRS website, pull a name for your business out of a magician’s hat (I went with “Writers Live Twice”), file your request, and magically secure your shiny new EIN. You can then use it in place of your Social Security number on W9s, which will not only make your business and services look more formal but will also better protect you from identity theft10If you’re seeking peace of mind, I would not recommend walking through the offices of a publishing company, where you’re likely to see stacks of contracts on an intern’s desk, Social Security numbers and all. —and allow you to do fancy things like open credit cards in your business’s name (ever helpful when attempting to expense one’s iMac).

Playing with Uncle Sam

As freelancers, we’re prime targets for suspicious auditors. For all they know, we’re attempting to write off our dollhouse addiction by classifying it as a business rather than a hobby. My philosophy has always been to recoup what’s due to me from the government—but to not get greedy. (And I’m not just saying this in fear that an auditor is reading this book, attempting to determine whether I’m a dollhouse hoarder or a dollhouse vendor.) I play with Uncle Sam rather than against him. Nothing will slow your writing career down faster than a nice, long stint in Sing Sing, where the shank-wielding locals don’t take too kindly to white-collar criminals whose primary weapon is words.

If you’re unsure about anything, just ask an accountant. It’s always better to be safe and strategic than sorry.

1Higher paying because you’re doing all the work and receiving none of the credit.

2A rarity! In general, editors try to twist and contort your idea to their nefarious whims.

3Which would quickly be followed by an apology and a note about how my e-mail account was hacked.

4See the next page for an explanation.

5To prevent my own ass from landing in court, it’s disclaimer time! This is shared wisdom, not “official legal advice.”

6And I should add that while throughout this book I often generalize “publications” to mean any outlet for your work, here, we’re talking “publications” in the most literal sense. Websites offering a “payment on publication” model are less of an issue because the “publication” happens almost instantaneously.

7In fact, while working for a weekly newspaper, I once sought out columnists on Craigslist. But I did so because nobody at the paper would give me the money to post on JournalismJobs.com. And I did so fully realizing my ad was two clicks away from comprehensive listings of escorts in the area.

8With many thanks to the brilliant Eric Eggemeier and Corinne Tirone Eggemeier for subsequently looking this over and assuring me I probably won’t land any of us in a Victor Hugo–style lockup.

9High time for yet another reminder that this does not constitute formal legal advice—just the musings of another harmless writer.

10If you’re seeking peace of mind, I would not recommend walking through the offices of a publishing company, where you’re likely to see stacks of contracts on an intern’s desk, Social Security numbers and all.