Getting a Book Deal

Some straight talk about money.

I’m writing this post because there’s an unspoken rule made for writers like me that we’re not supposed to talk about money. We’re supposed to be glad we are actually making any money at all. The trope of the starving artist is no joke, with thousands of examples to prove it.

Money oppression requires silence. You don’t talk salaries. You don't talk costs. You don’t talk profit.

Writers don’t talk advances. They don’t talk fees. They don’t talk honoraria. I obeyed all the rules for a long time, but now I’m not.

I want to talk to you about money.

Advance #1

A talented writer friend who took my course in creative nonfiction recently wrote me an ecstatic email. “With everything from our class in mind, as well as at my mother's urging, I polished up a proposal to a university press, sent it Saturday, and the editor called me this morning. Like, called me on the phone! He was clearly excited…saying he thought it would fit perfectly into their list. My heart flew right out of my chest.”

She had a book deal!

A few days later I heard from the writer again. She had received the contract, which turned out to be a Memorandum of Agreement. This legal agreement gives the publisher the right to refuse the manuscript once it’s finished, if he doesn’t like it or if he doesn’t get peer approval. If he likes the manuscript, the terms are “surprisingly low,” as my friend told me. To be exact, the terms are a $500 advance, payable on acceptance, and 7% royalties. The press gets audio and other rights. ¹

Advance #2

This week I had another conversation with a friend who writes cookbooks. For their most recent cookbook they received an advance of $100K.

Now they want to do another cookbook, so they contacted a respected agent, who said she won’t sell a book unless she gets an advance of $200K. That was shocking. I know these deals happen, but they rarely happen with literary books, which is my bailiwick.

There was a caveat—this agent won’t take on clients unless they have at least 50K followers on Instagram. Shocking again.

I’ve known a number of books now that have come out of New York authored by folks who were adequate writers but who had very hefty followings on social media. Rachel Rogers’s We Should All Be Millionaires is one of these (147K followers today), as is Asia Suler’s Mirrors in the Earth (102K followers today.)

Advance #3

Within the last few months I fielded a much-welcomed offer for a nonfiction book. The offer was an advance of $4,000. You can see the terms below. This may be the best that this press can do, and I hear that. Tectonic plates are shifting in the publishing biz.

Advance #4

Also within the last couple of weeks I received a heartwarming inquiry. A lovely acquisitions editor at a press had read an essay of mine that published in The Bitter Southerner and asked if I was interested in writing a book about this subject.

“Hearing from you makes me proud,” I wrote back. “Thank you for your interest in a book. Having a phone conversation about this might be our easiest route forward.” I suggested the phone because I didn’t want to write out my thoughts.

Turns out we couldn’t mesh our schedules for a conversation, and I decided not to string the editor along. So I wrote an email:

First of all, I thank you again for thinking of me and for being in touch. I think it would be the bomb to write a small book about this subject; and you seeing the essay in TBS & getting in contact is a huge honor to me.

I’m in a new place with writing, and I doubt that we can work together, so there’s no need for a phone conversation looming on our calendars if there’s little chance of this working. Here’s why.

I’ve always published with small, literary, mission-driven or academic presses. About a year ago I had an epiphany about being a poor, broke artist, and I made the decision that I was done with that life.

This is why I self-published my last book, a novel.

My royalties for my first book were 7.5 & 6.5 percent. That royalty rate, combined with a working-class childhood, a poor money mindset, and the fact that I am a woman, kept me in poverty for years. I am no longer in the business of writing to keep middle-people, so to speak, in business. That means publishers, agents, publicists, Amazon, and on & on. For years, literally, I had no health insurance, while I worked for folks in the publishing industry who had great salaries, benefits, health insurance, vacations, etc.

I have all that now, and I would never go backward.

Therefore, if you can negotiate a royalty rate of at least 40 percent, I would be glad/delighted/honored to talk with you about a manuscript.

You can see that there’s probably no need for us to talk. I’m sure you can find another great writer to do a book on this subject. In fact, I could probably recommend one of my writing students to you.

Thank you again for being in touch. I hope our paths cross one fine day.

Rereading that email just now, I do feel a little cringe, that I was audacious enough to write that. You can read between the lines how passionate I am about this. That my writing student had just received an offer of a 7% royalty—and was going to accept it because at least it was an offer (!)—probably led to my sauciness. Or is it addict honesty?

I received a nice reply. “If any of your former students working on nonfiction reach out for advice about publishers, I hope you'll consider mentioning our press to them. Just, of course, if it comes up organically and they are at a career stage where working with a small publisher might make sense.” I will. Definitely.

It’s important to note that none of this is personal. Our society has no malevolence toward writers. The wonderful folks who are buying books would no doubt love to offer decent money. So I have only love for anyone in the publishing industry these days. We are all suffering from late-stage capitalism in a failing industry.

Where does this leave us?

Still writing. Hoping for better times. Figuring out other ways to make money.

Where does this leave writers who always have dreamed of publishing a book?

Same. Still writing.

We do it because we love to do it and love is free or we figure out a way to monetize it that makes sense to us.

Advance #5

To leave you on a hopeful, positive note, a promising young writer friend got a book deal just over a year ago that was a $60K advance for a first book. It’s not a cookbook or a Stephen King thriller, but that’s a figure I can get behind.

The Magical Craft of Creative Nonfiction Course for Writers Starts June 5

Let’s deal with money first. This course costs $500. At that price it’s a steal, because you get three priceless things:

1. You get everything I have learned in the 25 years I’ve been a serious writer, one who supported her family from words alone (albeit with a working-class income) for all those years.

2. You get six long sessions with me, a person severely, vehemently, rabidly passionate about writing, about books, about stories, and about literature. You’re not going to get that anywhere else. I live and breathe it, I eat it, I sleep in it, I dream it. I am obsessed about it.

3. And you get my sincere, bone-deep belief in you and your dreams. If you’re willing to work hard for them, I’m willing to work hard for you. I am not scared of hard work.

We meet once a week, on Mondays from 7-9 Eastern Time, although we actually start at 6 with a Social Hour. That hour is a time for creating community, asking questions, and getting coached. There is no time to do that in class, because I use class time to be a tugboat, pushing you up the river. Not lying. Toot, toot.

If you already know you want to do it, register here.

What you get

• six exciting evenings where I pour my heart & soul into your heart & soul.

• a chance to learn in a safe space.

• pages and pages of important, useful handouts in pdf form.

• an entire session on publishing and marketing your work where I speak with utter honesty about the numbers, the possibilities, and the opportunities.

• interesting readings.

• the opportunity to ask questions of me weekly.

• my substantial edits (developmental, line & copy), if needed & desired, on up to 15 DS pages of your work. If this is important to you, get it now, because it’s a boatload of work for me, and I will not continue to offer this.

• optional silent co-working sessions.

• a class that’s on fire.

• my honest, authentic belief in you.

• & of course a receipt to file with your taxes, if you need it.

You should know that I do not limit the number of participants. Also, in this 1.0-level class, I don’t limit who participates and who doesn’t. If you have been toying with the idea of writing and you want to try your hand at it, this is a fabulous way for you to let the rubber meet the road. Last semester I had over 30 people in the class. The group was so big—and every one of them committed and determined—that I was thankful to have a TA who could be present for them when my head was turned.

About a dozen folks are signed up so far for this one, although that number will increase a bit. If you like small groups, this may not be the right class for you. However, if you like knowing other writers—if you are looking for community—if the opinions of others like you matter—if you want to know what others are experiencing in learning to write—then join my nice, big, well-rounded, happy group.

The feedback from last semester has been rich and beautiful. I’ve received these comments in the last couple of weeks:

You have a gift for explaining "big ideas" in simple, straightforward language. Thanks for practicing the art of generous living and generous teaching by using that gift to help others. —Allison

Janisse is inspiring, encouraging, and so very helpful—especially at teaching specific techniques for building description, for varying your writing, and for enriching images. I grew during her class and see a visible difference in my prose. I highly recommend studying with her! —R. Johnson

The main reasons I’m writing are these: first, to thank you so much for the wonderful course. I learned and grew so much more than I thought possible. Secondly, I’m not going to send you pages right now. I feel that my work now is finding my subjects and finding my voice, and this is all messy and scattershot. What I would very much like to do is sign up to take the course again. I need practice, and having the course as my structure is so very helpful. —Tara

Because I'd taken a workshop from you a few years ago, and because I've read your books, I knew I liked your teaching style and admired your writing. I expected a good bit and you exceeded my expectations. 

You gave us information that I could immediately apply to both my daily writing practice and longer work. Your handouts and power points were full of inspiration and solid tips. They became part of a file that will be well-used.

Giving us the opportunity to send you scenes was an unexpected bonus. Scenes I would have set aside, I continued to work on only because of the motivation born of your invitation. That created a good bit of extra work for you, and I greatly appreciate your willingness.

Letting us submit 15 pages at the end of class was also a factor in my wanting to do the class. I've recently completed what I expect will be my most important work, and I really needed some feedback from a writer I hold in such high esteem and can trust to tell me the truth.

You laid such a deep foundation of support during our six weeks, that even the most critical comments came through as the clarity of a highly-skilled insightful friend who just wants to help you be the writer you aspire to be. You have given me the confidence to push my project forward.

The sense of community you created contributed to the large number of  students participating in the open mic event - another favorite aspect of the class for me.

And the guests! They were fantastic- really enjoyed each of them.

The technical aspects were easy - no Zoom issues or google doc issues for me, I really appreciated the recording for the classes I missed. Kate (the TA) was helpful for tracking the chat and noting anything she knew we might have missed.—Kathryn 

Now…

Go do what you dream of doing. Bring home some cash along the way.

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Please don’t be shy about making a comment. I’d love to hear from you. What we’re doing here is creating a mycelial network for all of us chasing the writing life, so let us know you’re out there.

1. Royalty means a percentage of the list price that is returned to the author. List price means the price the book sells for, the one printed on the back cover. In this case the author would receive 7.5% of every book sold. A book with a list price of $20 brings the author $1.50.