Writer Beware

Traditionally, in the magazine and newspaper industry, a kill fee is “a negotiated payment on a magazine or newspaper article that is given to the freelancer if their assigned article is ‘killed’ or cancelled.” (Read the full definition here.) The contracts for the magazine articles I and Ann Crispin wrote for Writer’s Digest included kill fees–but that was a few years back, and I suspect they are less common now.

In the world of small publishers, however, “kill fee” means something quite different: a fee–usually a few hundred dollars–paid by an author to her publisher for getting out of a contract early. I’ve seen a lot of small press contracts that include kill fees, and it’s my impression that such clauses are becoming more common.

For obvious reasons, kill fee clauses are onerous for authors, who in some circumstances might have good reason to want to end a contract early, and can’t do so without opening up their wallets. Plus, many publishers employ kill fee clauses abusively, holding them over the heads of unhappy authors, or attempting to use them as an income source by offering to jettison dissatisfied writers at the slightest provocation, or terminating the contracts of writers who’ve pissed them off and demanding the fee even though termination wasn’t the writer’s decision. EPIC, an association for epublished authors, identifies kill fees as a red flag contract clause–one that authors should absolutely avoid. I agree.

From an honest small publisher’s perspective, on the other hand–a publisher that isn’t planning on browbeating its authors with kill fees, or using the fees to try and make an extra buck–a kill fee may seem to make good business sense. “We don’t want to hold onto an unhappy author,” the publisher might reason. “But we invest a lot of work in editing, designing, marketing, etc. So if we can’t maximize our investment by selling the author’s book for the full contract term, it’s only fair that we should get some reimbursement if she decides to leave early.”

Problem is, if the unhappy author can’t afford the kill fee, the publisher will wind up stuck with her anyway–along with the extra resentment produced by the author’s knowledge that she could have gotten free if only she’d had the cash. (I recently heard from an author and publisher in exactly this situation.) Alternatively, if the author can afford the kill fee, she may see it as an easy exit, and jump ship without giving the publisher the chance to address whatever problems she thinks she’s having–thus losing the publisher a book it might have retained if it had had more time to work things out.

So kill fees are a definite writer beware–but they’re a publisher beware too, because while they may sound good in theory, in reality they can backfire. For publishers willing to let their unhappy authors go, it’s far simpler–and far more author-friendly–just to allow authors to terminate the contract at will, without the potential complications and and bad feelings of a kill fee. Or, if the publisher prefers to try to resolve the problems, not to include a termination provision at all, and make termination decisions on a case-by-case basis.

To fee-charging services looking for more customers, what could be more lucrative than a referral from a literary agency or publisher? To a literary agency or publisher, what could be more tempting than to make money not just from its clients, but from the thousands of authors it rejects?

This is the logic behind referral fee schemes, in which a fee-charging company or service offers a percentage or finder’s fee to agents and/or publishers willing to send authors its way. Unscrupulous scams such as crooked editing service Edit Ink and dishonest vanity publisher Commonwealth Publications have done very well from such schemes, paying kickbacks to agents who placed writers with them. A number of “stealth” vanity publishers (publishers that charge a fee but publicly present themselves as “traditional”) have also experimented with referral incentives, targeting both literary agents and non-vanity publishers. And some straightforward POD self-publishing services offer referral programs–AuthorHouse, for instance, pays $100 for successful referrals.

Occasionally, referral plans backfire. In 2001, self-pub service Xlibris contacted a large number of reputable agents, inviting them to recommend their “not quite ready for prime-time writers” to the company, for which they would be rewarded with a percentage of whatever writers who chose to publish with Xlibris wound up paying. A storm of criticism ensued, and Xlibris canceled the plan, admitting that it “goofed.”

Note to referral plan offerers: Stick to questionable agents and publishers. Not only will they probably have fewer scruples about embracing such arrangements, they’ll be more likely to need the easy money. And they’ll be less likely to contact Writer Beware.

The latest outfit to ignore this basic bit of common sense is fee-for-service audiobook “publisher” Good Impressions Audio Books, which appears to be actively contacting reputable literary agents with the following pitch:

A new ongoing revenue stream for your agency.

FACT: The vast majority of manuscripts don’t get published.

FACT: You receive many submissions you don’t accept.

FACT: You don’t make money from those.

FACT: www.myaudiobook.org can change that.

We developed an innovative concept for writers to record professional sounding audio books with our recording equipment as we guide them every step of the way and our professional audio team then edits, improves and enhances the audio book.

You can become an “audio book agent” for your authors and for authors with manuscripts you might not normally accept. One phone call or email to us and we handle the rest.

We’ll pay you 15% of the audio book recording fee for authors you refer to us.

Per its contract, Good Impressions Audio Books charges a minimum fee of $499. If authors choose to use its voice talent, rather than their own, they can wind up paying much more.

Ashley Grayson, the literary agent who shared this solicitation with me, wasn’t tempted. “I’m all for entrepreneurship in publishing and applaud authors with innovative platforms,” he says, “but our agency declines all offers to be slipped a portion of the money an author pays to anyone. We earn our commissions from the deals we negotiate for authors.”

On its website, Good Impressions seems to be reasonably straightforward about its services, but its Why an Audio Book fact sheet includes a number of mis-statements, such as the claim that “few authors get advances from publishers anymore” (false) and that “audio book sales are coming close to overtaking printed book sales” (the Audio Publishers’ Association estimates the total US audio book market at $1 billion, but this is a fraction of the multi-billion-dollar US book market. Not to mention, sales statistics are meaningless to self- and vanity-published authors, whose main problem isn’t what consumers are or are not buying, but how to let consumers know their books exist).

One of the strangest schemes ever covered in this blog was a faux magazine startup called Laray Carr.

Operating out of Terrell, Texas, Laray Carr first came to my attention in August 2007 with a call for freelance writers, who could earn $50 per article for a minimum submission of 10 articles, paid on publication. The company purported to be planning to simultaneously launch 40 different lifestyle magazines focusing on food, fashion, music, home decor, and the like–yet with the launch date of September 20 only weeks away, was still scrambling to accumulate content. There was no website, and no information could be found on the company’s owner, Quincy Carr. Company staff seemed to know little about Laray Carr’s goals, finances, and business plans, and were unable to answer questions.

Red flags galore, in other words. Even so, many writers went ahead and submitted articles. But by September, with no payment forthcoming, writers began to get worried. Laray Carr became a hot topic on various freelancers’ websites.

Over September and into October, a bizarre story unfolded. Most of the articles were ultimately rejected, on flimsy grounds, with a strange kiss-off letter. Those that weren’t rejected were never paid for. Freelance editors, many of whom claimed to have done substantial work for the company, also weren’t paid. Web designers reported being asked to make multiple revisions to website templates, with the promise that payment would be forthcoming once the changes were complete–but it never was. Several websites appeared and disappeared, most incorporating grammatical and other errors. Supposedly custom-designed magazine covers proved to have (maybe) been stolen from other sources, or created using stock images. The company turned out to be doing business under several different names. The mysterious Quincy Carr was alleged to possibly have an arrest record.

Was Laray Carr investor bait? Did it plan to sell advertising and run? Or was it a genuine, if profoundly misguided and disastrously poorly planned, effort to establish a magazine empire? We’ll never know. By the end of October 2007, Laray Carr had vanished without a trace.

Until now.

An anonymous tipster last week drew my attention to the possibility that Laray Carr had been resurrected as a company called Niche Age Media (over the weekend in which I wrote this post, the formerly-active website has turned into a placeholder, but here’s a cached version), run by someone named Quinn Rhodes. I normally take such tips with a hefty grain of salt. On investigation, however, the similarities proved striking.

– Focus. Both Laray Carr and Niche Age Media were/are lifestyle magazine companies, planning the simultaneous or near-simultaneous launch of multiple publications: 40 for Laray Carr, 45 for Niche Age (this info appears in the press release area of the Niche Age website). Laray Carr’s mission was to “connect to our readers’ most personal thoughts and ideas with an offering of magazines that speaks [sic] directly to them,” while Niche Age wants to “enrich lives and strengthen communities…our magazines make life richer, fuller, & complete.” Although Laray Carr’s magazines were supposed to be national publications, and Niche Age claims a more regional approach, the range of subjects (home decor, food, wine, music, gardening, sports, brides, etc.) is also similar.

– Location. Both Laray Carr and Niche Age were/are based in Terrell, Texas. What are the odds that two separate magazine companies, each planning to launch multiple lifestyle magazines, would spring from this one town?

– Stiffing of staff. Laray Carr’s M.O. was to hire staff on a contract basis, extract substantial amounts of work from them, and then never pay. Niche Age seems to be operating in the exact same way.

I’ve managed to locate and contact several Niche Age editors, all of whom tell me that they have done a lot of work for the company–but, despite the fact that their contracts stipulate monthly payment, have not yet received a penny. Their questions are met with excuses–funding problems, restructuring, the economy. Recently, they were told that the “taster” issues produced for the company’s launch were no good and couldn’t be used. Shades of Laray Carr’s writer kiss-off.

At least one of Niche Age’s web designers seems to be having the same kind of problem. See this complaint at a freelancers’ website, from a designer who claims to have been hired by Niche Age, asked for multiple changes and revisions even after the website went live, and then never paid. This is very much like the experiences reported by Laray Carr’s various web designers, such as this one or this one.

– Nonperformance. Laray Carr never got off the ground, despite elaborate promises and successively postponed launch dates. Niche Age also has failed to meet its launch dates. Per a May press release, its initial three magazines were supposed to go live by the end of May–but the website for these magazines (currently residing on the website of a web design service) is nonfunctional, and there’s no sign that the magazines exist. Also in May, another press release claimed that other company magazines would “debut in the next two months”–but there’s no sign of them, either. According to the editors I contacted, the magazines’ print date was pushed back to July 31–but it’s now August 3, and no magazines. Apart from several recent job postings, there’s no public sign that Niche Age Media is active at all.

– Websites. Laray Carr’s several websites were notable for poor writing and typos and other errors (you can get the flavor at this still-existing dummy version). Ditto for Niche Age, which among other things has an issue with the spelling of “its.” The design of the websites, which each feature scrolling magazine titles and an animated masthead with rotating shots of magazine covers, is also similar. As is the propensity of both companies’ websites to abruptly vanish and be replaced by page holders.

– And the clincher. Laray Carr was founded by Quincy Carr. Niche Age Media’s head honcho is Quinn Rhodes (this name doesn’t appear anywhere on Niche Age’s website, but Niche Age’s URL is registered to Rhodes. Suggestive, perhaps, but not conclusive. Ah, but guess what I have in my very own hands? One of Niche Age’s PDF media kits. Just a little click on the Document Properties menu item reveals that the author is…Quincy Carr.

(The media kit is quite something, by the way. It’s attractively-enough formatted, but it’s poorly written and contains numerous errors (the magazines, for instance, are supposed to “premier” in June), statistics apparently pulled from the air, a really lame tag phrase (“Live Better. Where You Live.”), and some truly unfortunate word and phrase choices, such as the “Eat Out the County” marketing program, or, under the heading of audience buying interests, “Wine Cellular Services.”)

So it seems my tipster was correct: Niche Age Media is Laray Carr, reborn. Another play for investors? Another exercise in doomed ambition? As before, I suspect we’ll never know. One thing, though, is clear: for Quincy Carr (to paraphrase Jacqueline Susann), once was not enough.