I read with interest Jane Wenham Jones’ column in February’s
edition of Writing Magazine. A reader had sent a question in on vanity
publishers. She had received a contract
accepting her book to be published but was being asked to provide between
£1,000 - £3,500 to do so. The reader was
in a quandary as to whether she should go ahead. Jane advised her categorically not to.
As I read the article I found myself nodding in
agreement. In an ideal world everyone
would love to be published via a traditional route and to be paid for it, but
not everyone is going make it. Who knows
why, maybe the timing’s not right, the subject‘s not right, or maybe you’re
just not good enough as a writer.
I can certainly understand the frustration of not being able
to published in this way, I’m sure most writers’ ultimate aim is to earn money
from something we love to do and put a lot of effort into, but as I read this
article my thoughts were that I would never part with this kind of money to see
my book in print. (Although the saying
never say never springs to mind). I would though consider going down the
self-published route if I thought it appropriate.
However, I had an experience a short while ago, which goes
to show how far some publishers will go to extract money from people. And I do mean “extract”.
Towards the end of last year, my youngest son had a piece of
homework to write a 200 word piece of fiction.
Naturally, I gave him a bit of help and advice and by the end of the
week he had an acceptable piece of writing. The children’s efforts were entered into a
writing competition and we soon forgot about it.
However, over the Christmas holidays I was delighted to
receive a letter to say that my son’s piece had been shortlisted and, with my
permission would be published in an anthology.
Well actually I was more than delighted, I was puffed up with pride, for
a short while at least.
As well as the permission slip, the letter also contained an
order form for the proud parents to buy a copy – well who wouldn’t? And I was
certainly tempted. Until I saw the price
that is.
I don’t wish to sound stingy but I wasn’t expecting a cost of
£16 plus post and packaging for what effectively would be 200 words of my child’s
writing. But then again, I didn’t want
him to think that I wasn’t proud of him.
So I showed him the letter and asked him whether he would want me to buy
the book. Bless him, his response was, “Nah, I didn’t like it anyway.” So I was relieved to be let off the hook. The
letter stated that each school would receive a copy so at least I’ll get to see
it.
I later found out that my son wasn’t the only one who had
been shortlisted from his class, in fact everyone had.
To me this is taking vanity publishing to another level,
guilting parents into making a purchase.
If the book had been a more realistic price I probably would have been
persuaded, but at £18, I’m afraid the publisher’s greed has been their downfall
and I hope that other parents feel the same.
What do you think?
I've come across this myself when I've enterred competitions. It's been easy to say no to being included in an anthology that I'd have to pay for and would probably only ever be read by other entrants. I can see it's so much harder to do if it's your child's work and imagine the publishers earn a nice profit from proud parents and grandparents.
ReplyDeleteSelf publishing aside, if there's money changing hands at least some of it should be going towards the writer/s.
What an awwwsome opportunity
ReplyDeleteto serve you on earth:
Just a savvy lil' witty ditty
on why we ROTE our 22 blogs:
Faith, hope, and love -
the greatest of these is love:
jump into faith...
and you'll see with love.
Doesn’t matter if you don’t believe
(what I write);
God believes in you.
God. Bless. You.
What an awwwsome opportunity
ReplyDeleteto serve you on earth:
Just a savvy lil' witty ditty
on why we ROTE our 22 blogs:
Faith, hope, and love -
the greatest of these is love:
jump into faith...
and you'll see with love.
Doesn’t matter if you don’t believe
(what I write);
God believes in you.
God. Bless. You.