Why get a dog and then shout woof?
I had not expected that publishing a book would lead me into a legal contest. I had expected that paying out a chunk of money to professional representatives in the industry would lead to help in promoting the thing. But apparently the best person to promote a book is the author. I had strong differences of opinion between my agent and the publisher's outsourced sales rep as to how much support they should provide to me in return for the money I was paying them.
"Agents don't do promotion," said mine after he'd banked the cash.
"What do they do, then," I asked in bemusement. He couldn't really explain what service he was providing for the money I had paid up front or the 15% commission he was expecting to cream off. I began legal proceedings for breach of contract. To be fair, he did waive his commission; presumably in an attempt to dissuade me.
"What have you done to promote your book?" he challenged. Actually, I have done a lot: sent it for review at SOLDIER magazine; also the Army Rumour Service, an online soldiers' magazine; consistently promoted the book with DadsNet; done book signings in my local towns; getting the paper for my region to publish a full page spread; organised a collective book reading and signing with established writers like Leigh Russell; promoted my book in journals on MS for which I write; and getting the men's magazine, Club International, to review it. I could go on. The point is that my erstwhile agent asking me the question at all is indicative of the exploitative situation that publishing perpetuates. In no other area of commerce or society would you pay for professional representation only to be told that you're better off doing it yourself.
When I threatened to sue, the agencies involved appeared pained, as if I'd hurt their feelings. They claimed to have worked hard on my behalf. Perhaps, but they did not achieve any tangible benefit and in the real world a man is not judged on the efforts that he expends so much as the effects he achieves.
Once you get a dog, you don't expect to have to fetch the stick yourself.
"Agents don't do promotion," said mine after he'd banked the cash.
"What do they do, then," I asked in bemusement. He couldn't really explain what service he was providing for the money I had paid up front or the 15% commission he was expecting to cream off. I began legal proceedings for breach of contract. To be fair, he did waive his commission; presumably in an attempt to dissuade me.
"What have you done to promote your book?" he challenged. Actually, I have done a lot: sent it for review at SOLDIER magazine; also the Army Rumour Service, an online soldiers' magazine; consistently promoted the book with DadsNet; done book signings in my local towns; getting the paper for my region to publish a full page spread; organised a collective book reading and signing with established writers like Leigh Russell; promoted my book in journals on MS for which I write; and getting the men's magazine, Club International, to review it. I could go on. The point is that my erstwhile agent asking me the question at all is indicative of the exploitative situation that publishing perpetuates. In no other area of commerce or society would you pay for professional representation only to be told that you're better off doing it yourself.
When I threatened to sue, the agencies involved appeared pained, as if I'd hurt their feelings. They claimed to have worked hard on my behalf. Perhaps, but they did not achieve any tangible benefit and in the real world a man is not judged on the efforts that he expends so much as the effects he achieves.
Once you get a dog, you don't expect to have to fetch the stick yourself.
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