HOW TO SAY NO AND HOW TO VALUE YOURSELF AS A WRITER

At the risk of appearing like an out of season Grinch, I’m going to be saying NO a lot more this year and I’m already uncomfortable with that because it’s a word I’m totally rubbish at using. But over the past years, I’ve said YES too much because it felt easier (at the time)  than saying NO. I’ve bust my gut, I’ve not seen friends I wanted to meet up with because I’ve had no space in the diary, I’ve been panicking when things have cropped up with my parents’ ill health that I’ll be away on one of the many committed dates when they needed me, so this year my hand has been forced and I’m going on an intensive NO course. I’m going to grow a backbone, put my big girl pants on, remember that my elastic can only stretch so far. 

 

This NO word is also tied up with money. There’s something about cash in this business that makes it so hard to talk about. Other professionals work for money, electricians aren’t hobbyists hoping that someone will fling them some cash for a job occasionally, they trade their expertise for a wage. So why do writers find money so vulgar, so scary to talk about? Somehow I end up giving so much away for free because it feels icky to broker the subject of cold hard cash. I’m even cringing writing this. Goodness, what will anyone think of me talking about money *vision of a grasping Scrooge looms in my head*. But I’m going to because I think it’s important. 

 

Firstly saying NO, is preferable to me saying YES and then ending up with a big fat MUG painted on my head. While sitting recovering from a seasonal bug recently, I contemplated just how much time I’d wasted because I couldn’t say NO. The amount of occasions when I’ve been cajoled into meeting up with a stranger who ‘wanted to run something past me’. I have no idea what I expected, but I should have said, ‘Run it past me on the telephone’ and ignored their insistence that they needed to do it face to face ‘but it won’t take long’ (it invariably does). So I’ve gone out for coffees or meetings and ended up wasting all morning waiting for the big reveal. It’s nearly always a favour, or a crash course in ‘how to write a book’ and I’ve sat there thinking, ‘Why am I here when I haven’t seen my best mate for three months because I’m so busy?’ On one occasion I sat there for two hours listening to a woman telling me how many times she’d seen David Tennant in person because she’d travelled anywhere he might show up, and how much she was in love with him before we got to the nitty-gritty: her daughter at primary school had written a book and she needed help in getting in published. Possibly the longest two hours of my life even though there are many contenders for that title. And though it might be very flattering that someone’s six year old child wants to interview me for their YouTube channel (1 post, 4 views) … need I go on? 

 

And when it’s a local person asking somehow that NO word makes it even worse to say because they might think you’re obliged to help coming from the same town and then they’ll tell everyone you are a stuck up arse if you say NO. I do believe that many people who ask a favour think they are the only one who does, not one of twenty that week. And you’d be amazed how many of those requests never feature the word ‘please’. Can I turn up at X's birthday party if I'm not doing anything on Friday and do a speech? Can I send X a signed book because her washing machine has blown up and she's a bit down. 

 

As much as I love doing events, I have to be selective. It’s no good doing a seven hour round trip to talk to six people, however lovely they might be.  But – a disclaimer – if I wanted to do that event, because it sounded fun or would allow me to call in on an old friend I haven’t seen for ages, kill two birds with one stone – I am totally at liberty to do it if I wanted to, if it were my free choice. And you have to keep that in your mind:  FREE choice, not one that you’ve been manipulated into taking. Beware the manipulations. The amount of times I’ve been asked to be the after-dinner speaker somewhere, often at a ‘charity event’ but as soon as I’ve mentioned a fee and petrol, I never hear from them again. I imagine them pulling their handbags up in disgust that I’ve actually asked for money. Who do I think I am? Note to self, never say YES to anything on the spot, especially when hammered at a social event. You don’t have your diary on you, you can’t possibly say when you are free. You’ll come back to them. Don’t be bullied or pressured or cornered, you do not have to say YES. You do not have to explain why it’s a NO. And if you do say NO, don’t start imagining then that they have stuck a picture of you on a dartboard because you are a nasty, unhelpful, selfish arse. 

 

Sometimes organisers at events might say that they can’t pay a fee because they want to raise as much money as possible for their charity and every penny counts. If it was a charity close to my heart, then I could choose to do it of course. But I have my own charities and they get the free time I have. We can’t all support every charity, we can’t do everything for free. We need to pay bills and eat. Blimey, some celebs charge £10k just for turning up but we’re feeling guilty about a daily rate of a couple of hundred quid (see Society of Author’s guidance -  https://societyofauthors.org/Advice/Rates-Fees).

 

This is how weird it gets with authors. Imagine an event and the organisers decide upon a well known author who they are sure will spin lots of ticket sales. Their lure. Someone of value. They hope to raise a fortune for charity so they want as many people as possible to attend. But they ask the author to do it for free so that it doesn’t eat into their monies raised for said charity. YET… the printers of the tickets are a business and will make a profit. The bookseller attending will make a profit. The caterers will be paid. The venue will be rented. Hmm. Sometimes they won’t even offer petrol either (so I’m also expected to fork out travel costs to turn up at an event I’m not even getting paid for) ‘BUT we can supply you with tea and coffee all day *smiley face*’ they say. Alas, tea won’t pay my mortgage. Try asking your plumber to mend your radiator in exchange for a cuppa and a Mr Kipling’s French Fancy. I nearly always have to ask what the fee will be when approached to do an event because it isn’t mentioned, as if the hope is I’ll forget if it's glossed over. Sometimes the answer is ‘a token fee of X, although most people waive it’. Ooh, a hint there that I’m possibly being unreasonable for asking - you greedy cow. It’s a breath of fresh air when you’re approached to appear and the fee is transparent from the off. And it’s both respectful and respected. 

 

My time is money. I have to take time away from my book which is what pays my wage. I have to work at writing a speech and you can’t write those in an hour, some take days. I have to practice, I have to travel to the event. My time is money, did I say? (I have a friend who isn’t even on Twitter because he won’t write ANYTHING he isn’t paid for. And he’s proud of it. And flipping richer than me by a country mile.) 

 

I felt a bit manipulated recently and asked Joanne Harris for some advice because I knew I could rely on her as a wise stick. ‘If you want to support the charity, fine, but expecting you do to it for free without giving you the choice seems exploitative and wrong’ she said. And that her experience of working for free is that all it really gets you is more offers to work… for free. She voiced what I knew already but I wanted someone to tell me that I wasn’t being a grasping bitch. I’m not and we shouldn’t be made to feel that way. Our time is ours to give away as we wish. As is our goodwill. 

 

Lit festivals never pay a lot, we know this and accept it. But you shouldn’t be out of pocket for attending. 

And here's another bugbear while I'm purging. The amount of times I've trekked to the other side of the country to sign books for a bookseller and they haven't even asked me if I want a cup of coffee or said 'thanks'. I don't go back to those places now. Isn't that a basic courtesy? We even give our window cleaner a can of pop when he's doing my upstairs (not a euphemism). Value value value. Who values us if we don't value ourselves?

At a very early in my career event with a small readers’ group in Barnsley, a lady slid a tenner across the table to me and said ‘You’re a professional, you have to start charging’. She was right. Do an event for the WI and they pay you, let you sell your books and fill you up with butterfly buns. Proper respect, proper value. By doing things for free, I’m not helping any solidarity with my fellow authors. It shouldn't be a shock to anyone to presume we should be paid for a job. It’s not greed, I’m a businesswoman not someone farting around on a typewriter for a laugh. Neither am I Elon Musk who is loaded enough to give up his time for nothing because he doesn’t have a mortgage and he doesn't care that his heating bills have tripled. Except he wouldn’t give his services gratis, he’d charge and want more than a cuppa as an appearance fee, because that’s how business works. No one would say, 'I can't believe Elon Musk has asked for plane fare and a hotel to come and talk to us about space!' It would be entirely expected. So why isn't it with us?

 

Say NO whenever you want to. It’s not illegal. You are running things, they aren’t running you. Unless you let them and if you are - stop now. 

Good luck.