part0010

This is going to be a short section since we don’t need to belabor contracts. I don’t want to bore the snot out of you. I took a number of contracts classes in law school. That was some sexy and exciting stuff, but then, I’m a complete alien. I know that stuff isn’t for everyone, so let me try to boil it down to the simplest terms.

Who. Make sure that you and your collaborator are clearly identified, your businesses, your home location (that can change without an amendment, as long as a court can track down that you are you). “I, Craig Martelle of Craig Martelle, Inc, an Alaskan Corporation…”

What. The work product you are developing must be clearly identified, as well as what it consists of. “A manuscript of at least 60,000 words, written in third person omni in the shared universe known as Craigsylvania.” This can also be included as the Scope.

Why. I put this in when I’m justifying an extended duration of exclusivity or simply stating the purpose of the collaboration. In some contracts, this would be called precatory language, words that are unenforceable. We did a list-builder where a group of us put ten stories on BookFunnel in a single package for users to download, but they had to give us their email address, which was then added to each of our individual subscriber lists. The contract language said exactly that. Your book will be given away for free. There will be no money, but you shall realize nirvana when handed a list of a thousand new subscribers. I left out the nirvana part, but you get the idea. It’s about having shared expectations. Here’s exactly what we’re doing, and why.

Terms used within the contract. Sometimes this is a separate section, but more often, it is clarified after the identifying criteria. “This Agreement is being made on MONTH, DAY, YEAR by and between _________________, hereinafter known as (“Publisher”), a corporation incorporated in STATE located at COMPANY ADDRESS, and FIRST LAST a.k.a. PEN NAME, hereinafter known as (“Collaborator”), an individual located at ADDRESS, CITY, STATE, COUNTRY...”

Besides the identifying criteria of who, what, and when, this is the most important part of the contract. It details who pays and who gets paid. If your book doesn’t sell, no one cares about these details, but what if you pass away and your heirs get a movie deal for your story? You’d better have these contract elements correct and clear. Ambiguous statements have a tendency to get ruled on harshly by the courts and may not deliver what the collaborator intended.

This has overlapping implications with the money. Maybe a company wants to turn your sweet romance into a hardcore porno. As a copyright owner, you can keep that from happening. You have a say (unless you sign that away by giving the publisher the sole authority to determine derivative rights). If this is important to you, then don’t sign away your derivative (other media and related revenue streams that aren’t exactly the identified published product. This is usually movie rights from the book) rights. And make sure your name is annotated properly.

If you use a pen name, you’ll need to be sure the contract has both your real name and your pen name (unless you’ve developed your pen name through a corporation, but at some point, your real name has to be associated with your pen name in case you ever have to go to court to protect your rights). If your pen name gets the copyright, that’s fine, as long as you have a contract to show that’s you. Too many people flippantly use pen names. Don’t do that. Each pen name is its own unique entity. Treat it as such.

These clauses are to ensure that one party is protected in case the other does something untoward, like copy passages from other books and pass them off as original. That’s theft of intellectual property, and it’s not a good look on an author. If a collaborator does that, the indemnification clause puts the legal liability on the individual and not the collaborators together.

This is the first thing I look for in any contract. What do I do when things go south? The bigger the corporation, the more restrictive your rights may be. The contract to use Amazon, for example, contains an arbitration clause. You can’t be forced into arbitration, but the contract requires you to jump through some hoops to get out of that clause, and those things must be done before the incident in which you find yourself at odds.

Contracts without remedy clauses are not good. I’ve signed a number of contracts with cover artists where the cover artist has all the rights. I usually make pen changes (annotated additions before the contract is signed that serve as legal addenda where remedies apply equally to both parties. Contracts that are grossly one-sided because one party is in a superior bargaining position are called contracts of adhesion. Courts don’t like them, and penalize the party writing the contract if the subjected party takes legal action.

So don’t do that. Apply remedies equally in case either party fails to uphold their end of the contract. It’s pretty crappy that these have to be in there, but it’s necessary because too many have not kept their promises. That’s all a contract is—a memorialized promise. It’s like JK Rowling’s Unbreakable Vow without the death-if-you-don’t-comply part.

Are you willing to give up artistic license? Moral rights are your ownership of your story idea, or at least your share of the ownership as a collaboration. The example above was a clean romance turned into hardcore porn. With your moral rights intact, you can prevent that from happening. Your story remains your story. Legacy publishing often restricts an author’s moral rights. The story you write might not be the one that gets published. They’ll do what they think will sell the best. You will generally not have moral rights in ghostwriting or work-for-hire collaborations.

This finalizes the agreement. Without a signed and dated copy, there is no agreement. The date is important in case of legal action. Anything that falls after the date of the contract is subject to the contract terms, such as payments. It also starts the clock ticking on deliverables like the manuscript, or responsibility for paying for the cover or editing.

And there you go—a basic primer on contracts. The appendices are copies of contracts for your reference. These do not constitute legal advice. They can always be worded better, but there is a certain “good enough” factor. The best way to comply with any contract is to become friends with your collaborator, then give and take in a healthy way through shared expectations and transparency. The contract is for your heirs.

While I was going through law school, I studied from 3AM to 8AM every morning and then played nine holes of golf. It’s important for your brain to unwind after hours of reading mind-numbing legalese. A couple of fellow authors started a jibe regarding being able to do well in any genre as long as the story is well written. Here was the exchange and my response.

Captain's Log: Mark Dawson started this with Diane Capri in a question about whether anyone can do well in a certain genre. The answer is not only yes, but hell yes. Any genre can be lucrative if you hit it and act like you belong there. I am continually ranked among all the big names in science fiction and have been continuously since March 6, 2017. Michael Anderle is at the front, almost perennially at science fiction's number one position.

Velocirapture
We couldn’t stop. The light in the sky added heat to our passion.
Mark: Wait. Are you talking the meteor?
Craig: Some climax, huh?
Mark: Think sequel. How do we write a sequel to our mega-million bestseller?
Craig: Word. Let me start again.
We couldn’t stop. The light in the sky added heat to our passion.
Mark: That’s the same thing you wrote before.
Craig: But this time it’s not a meteor.
Mark: Pray continue.
Craig: She gathered the boys, like the good queen she was.
Mark: Wait. Is this Velocirapture or Reverse Velocirapture?
Craig: He stood tall and proud, clicking and honking his claims to the pride, his reptilian hide glistening with the morning rain. A distant call answered his. A competitor.
Mark: Looking good. A little action. Maybe we can throw in a hunt, make it a dino-thriller.
Craig: That’s so Jurassic. I’m thinking Triassic. And Velocirapture. A little action indeed! Open-door steamy since, well, no doors.
Mark: Pray continue.
Craig: He vaulted from the boulder, landing roughly, his eight-inch claws digging deep into the mossy turf. The pride bobbed their heads in appreciation of his rippling muscles and six-pack abs.
Mark: Wait. Six-pack abs?
Craig: I hear it’s all the rage.
Mark: No six-pack. Think dino-kegger.
Craig: I like where you’re going...