“I made my money the old-fashioned way. I was very nice to a wealthy relative right before he died.”

—Malcolm Forbes

I am not having a mid-life crisis, but I may be having an out-of-money crisis. 

A few months ago I had the honour of being asked to interview a bestselling American author over Zoom.

“….we would love it if you could join us for this upcoming program with [insert bestselling author] on the evening of [insert date]. We would love it if you could interview [insert name of bestselling author] about their new book…”

I wrote back, “Can you tell me what your budget is for this?” I offered to include the interview in this weekly newsletter — a platform that has at least 10 times their following, mind you. 

“That's great,” the organizer wrote back. “I like your ideas about promoting the program. I’d like to chat with you to share my thoughts about this program, as it has an impact on the budget.”

We did, if memory serves, had a nice conversation that lasted about…30 minutes? (This amount of time is important for when I get into “Writer's Math” shortly.)

Money may not be the most important thing in life, but it is reasonably close to oxygen on the “got to have some” scale. And yes, I do believe that true love IS more important than money, but has Enbridge or Hydro ever said, “Sure, pay your overdue bill with a bunch of hugs?” 

Does love conquer your dentist appointments? Was your favourite memory from childhood NOT paying bills?

Maybe money doesn't solve all of a writer’s problems, but it could, evidently, solve a writer's money problems.

Sigh. It doesn’t help that so many writers give their time and work in exchange for publicity or writing credits.

In any case, a few days later, after not hearing back, I wrote to one of the organizers, “Is this still on? I'm wondering because it’s my birthday that weekend and if you can’t fund this, I need to know sooner rather than later. Because I would like to go away for that weekend if this is not happening.”

Two days later, I heard back. “Hi Rebecca, Thanks for the message. As far as I know, the program is on and the publisher was mailing you a copy of the book. [Bestselling author] is also thrilled that you are participating.”

To which I wrote back, “As far as I know…? Can you find out if this is on and I will be paid? So happy to do this, but I need a guarantee. Or it's not worth wasting my birthday weekend in Mexico!”

I then received another email that started with “Good news!” Another organization offered to pay the $250 and "I'm just working out the financials with them and should have it confirmed next week.” 

Three days later, via another email, I learned that the organization that agreed to "fund” me that whole $250 backed out, and “as such, please feel free to book your trip for your birthday.” 

So, I did. 

But not before responding, “It’s sort of ridiculous no one can come up with $250?” 

A few days later, I received an email that — good news! — the organization had secured $250, a number which, as you’ll soon realize, is important to that “Writer’s Math” I mentioned previously.

Generally speaking, I would never accept $250 to interview someone — and you’ll see because of Writer’s Math exactly why —  but I love this author’s work and supporting the Jewish community — which this interview was intended to do.

So, I went on to spell out all the hours of work — yes, work! — adding, “I don’t understand why people expect others to do things for free when it’s work.” 

I ended by saying that if it wasn’t my birthday week then, maybe, I would have done it, adding that some people pay me five times the amount offered to conduct an hour-long interview. 

I also offered — for free — other names for them to reach out to. And then promptly booked my insanely expensive plane ticket.

Three days later, however, I received another e-mail. “Another organization has come through and would like to help sponsor the program with [insert name of bestselling author]. They would like to work around your schedule. Would you be back from your trip and available on [date]?”

My heart sank. 

So, now we are getting into the gritty business of publishing. I wasn’t thrilled to make $250. Why? 

Because personally, I think I’m worth more than $250 to interview someone, and I'll spell out why. 

T.I.M.E.

I had to read the book. And because I research everything, I also re-read this author’s previous two books. 

Total number of hours = 9 

I also do an insane amount of research before I interview anyone. And I never ask the same question anyone else has asked. 

Total number of hours researching author = 3

Since I don’t ask (or do my best not to) ask the same questions, I come up with my own unique questions, very thoughtful ones, and then I narrow down which to ask that will make the interview flow. 

Total number of hours = 2

Luckily, this was a Zoom interview, which technically means I didn’t have to leave my house. But let’s pretend this interview was in person, as more and more places are doing interviews IRL. 

Total amount of time to get to venue and back = 1.5

And although this was a Zoom interview, I still had to look good, because often, or more often than not, those who watch are just as interested in how you look as what is actually being said. 

Total Glam Time needed to look presentable, including wardrobe + makeup = 2 

And while I’m happy to plug out interviews, this means time posting about the event on four different social media platforms. 

Total time to promote interview, including hashtag research and tagging = 1

Finally, preparing for an interview, even if you’ve done thousands of them, takes a mental toll that pretty much lasts all day, leading up to the actual live interview, not to mention at least an hour afterwards to “calm down.” Yes, worrying beforehand if will be good and then if it was good after the fact comes with the territory. You can’t put a price on the mental toll an interview takes. So, I’m going to argue…

Mental toll of interviewing = 5 

Then, there is the actual interview, where I’m asking a question while looking at chat boxes and simultaneously trying to hear the author’s answer, and also preparing for my next question. 

Total Time to Interview: 1h 15m. (I have to be behind my screen earlier than those who registered for the event, test the sound, and make sure all the tech is working correctly.) 

So, for me to interview one author for one hour — and let's not forget those 20 minutes I mentioned above that involved arranging this interview via phone and email exchanges — it totals about 25 hours.

So, being paid $250 for all of the above? I’m not even making minimum wage. I’m actually, according to the hours I put in, making less than 50 cents an hour! 

And who do I blame? Myself. Until I started saying no. Not many writers or authors will refuse work, which is something I had to learn to do, and hopefully convince other writers to follow suit.

If this author’s novel wasn’t so compelling, and if I hadn’t been supporting the Jewish community, I would have said no from the start. It’s just not fucking worth my time.

In fact, I actually lose money when I interview someone. Getting my makeup done (because I’m hopeless on my own) costs me $125 — exactly half of what I was getting paid to interview this author.

Not to mention other costs that come along with being a full-time writer, dear readers, which I will get into. 

I mean, I'm not asking to be paid for everything: the coffee that keeps me awake so I can write; the babysitter so I could find time to, you guessed it, write; the numerous Uber Eats deliveries that feed me when I’m deep in the writing zone (which ads up, let me tell you).

I’m stuck in a constant flux of “I need to save money” and YOLO (you only live once)!

Like everyone else, staying in bed all day is the only way I seem to be able to save money. But even then, I’m paying for streaming services, snacks, and sometimes cannabis.

But in no other industry except creative ones do people expect things to be done for free. And if that wasn't bad enough, some folks get mad — at you! — if you turn down the (unpaid) opportunity. 

To this day, it amazes me what some people try to get for free as much as it amazes me the amount writers agree to work for. 

I was, and still am, perpetually stupefied at how insulted people get when I inform them that I already have more on my plate than I could handle, like I was rudely rejecting the gift of their work. Which they did not intend to pay for. 

It’s the total fucking lack of reciprocity that is the problem.

Here’s a real-life example of a response I received after I said no to judging a writing competition — which I learned not to ever do. 

Again, apparently my T.I.M.E. was worth zero dollars. But OMG the feeling of relief or FU when I politely wrote back, “Hi [name], I would absolutely love to do this. But my time is ridiculously taken up. As a judge, please tell me there is an honorarium for my time.” 

I went on to say I'd be happy to plug out this writing competition and my email ended with, “I can't do it for free. I'm sorry!”

Their reply? “Thank you so much for your prompt reply. We would love to have you as a judge. We ask all our judges to volunteer their time to this great cause promoting diversity and inclusion across Canada. We understand if you can’t do it as a donation. We do not have the ability to offer you an honorarium currently. Thanks for your consideration. Take care.”

Authors don't get paid to judge book competitions. You have to read numerous books. THEN you have to get on a phone call that could be as long as two hours, going over the pros and cons of each book. THEN the organization expects you to show up at the awards ceremonies.

But, alas, even though they didn't have the ability to offer me or the other writers an honorarium, they managed to come up with the money to publish a book — which is a lot more than you'd think. PLUS, as per their initial email, the winner would get a $5,000 “monetary award,” and the two runner-ups would receive “monetary” awards of $2,500 and $1,000. Apparently, they did have a budget.

So, allow me to translate such emails that ask creatives do work for free: “Hey, you’re a warm body with an allegedly working brain stem and no idea of the value of your work — let me exploit you!” 

Also, “Take care” translates to “fuck you for not giving up your time.”

In my opinion, an organization should be prepared to take no with good grace — something that should go without saying any time you ask anyone for a favour. Period.

Many people seem to think that all writers are desperate to get something, anything in the public’s eye. As Ira Gershwin once put it, “it ain’t necessarily so.”

I’m amazed (yet again!) at how often organizations ask me to work for free. But if I tell them I can’t, they often — not always, but often — turn out to have a budget after all and pay me my going rate.

If writers and authors got regular paycheques, you’d see how much we are indeed valued.  

I say no to writing a lot these days because this is how my brain now works. And let it be a lesson or a call-to-arms for writers to just say no, too, if a request isn’t worth their time. Or say yes and demand to be paid. That simple.

Of course, it’s normal to go back and forth in your mind first. For instance, this is my internal dialogue during these deliberations:

Me: Well, $250 isn’t nothing.

Me: Well, you’d have to interview a couple of people.

Me: It is still $250, though.

Me: And then you’d have to do at least a couple of hours of research.

Me: $250.

Me: And then you’d have to write the damn thing, which could take between 4 and 6 hours.

Me: But…it’s $250.

Me: Plus, I work as hard as My Guy — a lawyer — and he gets paid at least triple $250 an hour.

Me: I’d get $250?

Me: Meh, I’d rather just not buy that pair of boots I've been coveting and I’ll come out equal. And I won't have to do any work!

Me: You're so smart.

If people don't like what I charge for “just a few hours” I would say, “You’re not paying for the few hours it takes me to write or interview. You’re paying for my years of experience that enables me to do the job well.”

Never mind the years of writing, the tens of thousands of books I’ve sold around the world, the awards, or the options for movies. Why expect me to drop everything to do them favours, just for the thrill of being on the news for a three-minute interview segment that required hours of prep (and took me 30 goddam minutes to get there)?

Have you ever asked your gardener or plumber or your hairdresser to do your lawn, fix your leaky toilet, or dye your hair for free? Never. On top of that, we also give them tips.

Perhaps you’ll begin to write because you’ve convinced yourself (or someone else has) that it will be good for “exposure.” If that word sneaks up on you? Run!

Should I ask the employee at a nearby bakery for a free muffin in exchange for exposure? (I promise to tell everyone I know about this muffin!) Plus, with so many writers and so much noise, even if you get “exposure,” it's not a guarantee of, well, anything in publishing. And definitely not a guarantee you’ll get more work. 

Buyer beware! I don’t need exposure. The thing about those who contact you to do something “for the exposure” is that they wouldn’t have gotten in touch with you in the first place if hadn’t been already heard of you (i.e. been “exposed” to you), and consequently would not be asking you to do things for free.

More importantly, writers and authors should not only insist on their talents being respected via payment, but they should correct others when the common misconception of how long something takes arises. 

The more an author sells, the more people know the author’s name, the more your name is known, and the more requests you get to do free stuff. I don’t get it?

When you get “exposure,” the requests to do things for free come out of the woodwork in hordes — can you speak at a workshop for free, attend a charity dinner, speak to a classroom, write blurbs for books?

It’s not so much that they’re telling you it’s “exposure” as it is telling you, “This will make you look like a kind and generous person!” And if you don’t agree with that, well then you’re an arrogant, entitled ass-hat who doesn’t deserve success. 

And no matter how many nice things you might do for free, for charity, etc., the fact that you don’t accept all requests means that you are not a nice person.

There should be a healthy balance between writers creating content and getting money in return. I don’t think that’s such a big ask.

The day I decided not to agree to unpaid gigs anymore, something shifted; I’ve taken my own work more seriously. I feel my work is valued just as much as anyone else who busts their ass in any other industry. 

I’ve always valued my work, but I have, in the past, let others undervalue it.

For example, in this Writer’s Digest piece on the pros and cons of writing for free, I wasn’t surprised that they had more pros than cons…but I also thought this was a satirical piece.

“As a few final thoughts, as a rule-of-thumb, don't accept any unpaid work where the client will financially benefit from what you produce,” the writer writes. “If the client can profit, there will be more money in the pot to share,” Rick Lauber wrote. 

Hilariously,  I went to their submissions page, which read; “We do not offer payment for unsolicited online articles and guest posts, except in rare cases when the content is highly focused or unique. In such cases, writers may be paid $50–$100 depending on the depth and length of the work. If payment is not offered, we may agree to include links to the author's website, social media accounts, and book outlets.”

Again, “exposure” may lead to…more exposure which may lead to…more exposure, like exposure in Writer’s Digest. Sure, you should be flattered if they accept your piece or if you’re asked to write something. But I sure hope that $50-$100 of “exposure” and, if they agree, a link to your social media account or your book is enough to pay for your child’s shoes or dog food for the month.

Unfortunately, discourse about the relationship between working for “exposure” and the decline of paid writing and professional journalism hasn’t changed for decades.

I'll tell you the truth: If you really want “exposure,” make a sex tape. This time, I’m not joking.

So, writers and authors, do you value your work and T.I.M.E? I’d love to know why or why not here!

Until next time, flip your hair and flip the page (and flip off anyone who asks you to work for free)!

xoxo,

Rebecca

P.S. I guess it would be hypocritical to text my relative who happens to be a doctor to ask about this pain I’ve been having in my toe, correct?

P.P.S I take direct deposit if you enjoyed this read!