Getting Paid in Chocolate
Writers let themselves get paid in exposure, and now we seem ungrateful when our work only results in treats.
I was telling a friend about someone who offered to “hire” me to work an entire Sunday afternoon with no compensation apart from free publicity and free drinks. She then told me about a similar situation about someone who offered her a writing gig, but the pay would only be in restaurant gift certificates.
She said that her husband refers to this practice as, “getting paid in chocolate”.
It’s when your only compensation for your skills and expertise is paid in treats that don’t help cover rent or bills of any kind. Maybe with a little, oh, and I despise this word—here I’m going to say it—exposure—the person feels like they’ve done you a favor. Ummmm, yummy! Chocolate! Free drinks! Maybe dinner! Then you go home knowing you still have to find a way to pay the rent, or that Con Ed bill that got jacked up in a month you didn’t even turn on the air conditioner (surprise!).
It happens all too frequently for writers these days. Luckily not the Con Ed part, but the only getting paid in treats part.
Let me tell you about a getting paid in chocolate thing that happened this week.
I was asked to speak at a book event. That sounds like a great idea, right? Kinda glam, yeah? I’m up on a stage with fellow authors discussing our writing process and the state of the lifestyle book business. Attendees glean some insights from the discussion, maybe they’ll go out and buy our books, better yet, tell other people to buy them either by word of mouth or in a published article for some outlet. Here’s where things get complicated.
Many of you know this, but for those who don’t, any time books are involved, someone has to pay for the cost of the books. For promotional events and signings, big publishing houses with budgets to match will often provide copies gratis for their superstar authors, but the indie ones often don’t.
It’s standard pratice. My publisher isn’t being stingy. These things cost money. I get it (especially my latest book. It weighs 2.5 lbs and has 200 color photographs.) So in this instance, if the organizers want copies of the materials being discussed for their event, either they have to pay for copies of the book themselves (they can usually get a discount if they contact the publisher directly), or someone sponsors the books (like a liquor brand). Maybe a local bookstore steps in to supply the books for sale to attendees onsite, which is the ideal situation (this is how it works for Tales of the Cocktail, for instance). Maybe there are tickets involved so the cost of a book is factored into attendance and people walk away with a copy.
In any case, someone has to pay for the books to be at the book event, it’s just how it works. Books are not free. For some reason, it surprises people to know this.
So I was asked not only to participate in one of these things without getting paid for my time, but also to bring my own copies of my book for “display purposes”. No one there will be buying it. They’re just going to look at it.
I declined. Even if I was getting a little publicity out of it, the idea of taking part in an event where the topic of promoting written works is being discussed without otherwise being paid for hours of work and transportation made me feel icky.
For some reason the organizers found it odd that I would have this reaction.
I remember years ago, before I got into this business, when I wrote a funny email to a friend. The friend suggested I start writing for this new website, The Huffington Post. My initial reaction was, “Wow, cool! You mean like, get published on the internet? Strangers reading my words? I can do that?” After hearing more about it, I asked, “So is this something I could potentially make a living from? Writing for a website?”
My friend then explained how it works, that no one on that site had a “job” with it, per se. They just had stuff to get off their chests, and it was an available platform. People shared the articles with each other (this was a time before mainstream social media).
It was free journalism.
It was successful, as it turned out. Why wouldn’t it be? People write compelling stuff, it gets published, people all around the world share it, advertising sponsorship ensues. People who already had significant streams of income were totally OK with participating in this system, so more people did it in other places.
And because loads of free journalism came into existence, the cost of paid journalism started going down. And not only the cost of journalism, but writing services in general. Book writing too. All writing. It’s been reported that Ernest Hemingway was able to expense $187,000 to a single outlet during the Second World War. Now in 2024, if any of us can get a dollar a word for anything these days, that’s high on the writing compensation spectrum.
Most of the time it is considerably less. An outlet recently asked me to write about the best pizza places in the city without even enough compensation to pay for one day of protection from a fairly cheap hired bodyguard after the article gets published.
So here are these people asking me to Huffington Post their event and I said no. Then they offered to at least buy some of my books at a bookstore so attendees can at least have a visual, but I’d still have to show up and talk pretty while holding a cocktail. I still declined.
I ended up having a long discussion with the organizer about my reasons for turning down this opportunity. It was explained to me that its purpose was to help promote authors who can’t otherwise afford to pay for their own PR. Which sounds like a reasonably good deal. This person is right. We can’t.
But throughout the conversation, I felt as though the stain kept spreading. I had trouble with the idea of spending what otherwise would have been my “regrouping day” summoning the energy to hustle, and since I know plenty of other writers who feel the same way, I had doubts about the pay-it-forward intentions of the event. And not a single copy would be sold onsite since it’s such a pain in the buttae to organize that sort of thing.
I could see myself having a nice time, maybe meeting some people I wouldn’t otherwise have a chance to connect with. “Sunday is the new Monday” I was told. People like being out to a work-related event on a Sunday. It frees up some of the week, I was told.
I was also told that the organizers were paying (with real money, presumably) photographers and videographers to cover the event so that the speakers could have something to use for their own publicity purposes. Again, that sounds like a good deal, right?
I could be all sorts of wrong about it, but I didn’t see how I would be helping myself in any meaningful way from this experience. The organizers, who truly are generous people with generous intentions, people I genuinely like and care for, will rightfully look even more generous when it’s over. And some of their clients will be represented, so those people will be happy to be showcased.
However, this author goes home in the evening, and after a pleasant afternoon and maybe a few treats, I still have to pay my rent next week. And I’ll probably curse the skies because I hate how things have been allowed to operate in this business for so long. Writers who just wanted the promotional boost allowed this one-sided transactional practice to happen along the way, and now it’s the expected norm as is, apparently now, working every damn day of the week. On top of that, now we look like assholes if someone is giving us a high profile platform and we expect monetary remuneration for our appearance. If I am being held up as a featured presenter, doesn’t it stand to reason that my knowledge and two decades of experience brings value to the showcase?
I live in a single income situation. I’m not one of those writers with a spouse who can help support their “art”.
What I do have is a $536 vet bill after Jasper went in for a checkup and got a full, long overdue workup. After all the tests and examinations he has an official diagnosis: BFC. (Big Fucking Cat). That vet got paid for that service. The vet assistance got paid for that service. The people who manufactured the cat inoculations got paid. I could go on. I have plenty of nice bottles lying around that I could have given to the vet for services rendered.
But, and I know, so weird, he wanted money on the spot for my piece of mind hearing from a trained professional that Jasper is in good health despite needing to lose a few pounds to stave off diabetes and hip issues in his approaching senior years. I was happy to give it to him.
Which is why I refuse to be paid in chocolate.
I feel this in so many ways. Clearly the getting paid in "exposure" rings a bell.
But also, as a small publisher who wants our books to be present at events. Shipping books there, hoping you didn't ship WAY more than we can sell, and then shipping unsold books back home. That's not cheap.
Bonus points for 98% of potential buyers expecting every book to be on Amazon discounted to $25.
Not to mention that social media has become so pay-to-play that it's damn near impossible for authors who aren't already "viral" from something else to reach their audience.
Anyhow, thank you for writing this. I was nodding vociferously throughout.