A few days after I sent my acceptance of the terms the publisher was offering, they sent me the boilerplate for their contract.
A boilerplate is standardized language used in contracts. Every publisher has their own. It’s essentially the same thing you’ll see in the contract. This is where the negotiation happens.
So I read over the boilerplate, and googled like crazy for a couple of days. The contract lays out what you’re paid, when it happens, and how royalties are calculated. It isn’t the same for all formats–there’s separate rates for hardcover, paperback, ebook, audiobook, and then rates for remaindered books, and book club editions.
It also lays out how much the author gets for the sale of translation rights, film/tv rights, audio play (as in radio) rights, etc. Most of those, I imagine, will never be used, but they’re enumerated in the contract.
The contract lays out what happens if I don’t live up to my obligations by delivering the book by the due date (I’ve already turned it in, since it was complete when I submitted it for consideration), and how any disputes between the publisher and I will be dealt with. I don’t foresee any of that being an issue; it’s all pretty straight-forward.
It all looked great, so I signed it. I’m sure in the old days this was done primarily via mail, but because the 21st century is amazing, I signed it just like I signed a lot of my mortgage papers–online, via DocuSign. Thanks to the iPad’s abilities, my finger-signature even looks like my actual signature. Within half an hour of signing, I got a copy in my email, signed by me, my editor in New York City, and the head of the publisher in London, UK. I love the future.
Of course, what I know now is that I should have at least tried to hold on to the tv/film rights. When I signed it I didn’t really care, because in the unlikely event of a film rights deal, I’d get the majority of the money. But after signing, I learned from a few sources, most eloquently Jen Udden and Bridget Smith, in their podcast Shipping & Handling, Episode 47, that I should have asked for those rights to remain with me, partly for monetary reasons, but also for reasons of control. Udden and Smith also recommend keeping the rights to graphic novels, and merchandising. They also suggest that if you must give up those rights, try for more than 50% (which I got without haggling, because my publishers are good people). Again, this will likely never come up. Film deals are exceedingly rare.
I’m not sure how my publisher would have handled that–my understanding is that most of the big houses just grumble and give up the grab at those rights–but, in my case I don’t think I was harmed in giving up those rights even if there is interest further down the road. But it’s a data point new writers should have.
In any case, I don’t actually regret giving those rights up, mostly because the odds of it ever becoming an issue are pretty much against me. But it’s something I’ll keep in mind going forward.
And finally we come to where I am in the process: Waiting. I expect the first-round edits and copyedits in the next 2-3 months. Publication is tentatively scheduled for March 2019. I’m working on book 2, which has not yet been signed, and will send off the proposal for it when I’ve got a couple of chapters done (it’s already been plotted and a synopsis has been written).
I’m also doing a lot of research on conventions and other avenues of writerly book promotion. All while trying to give my kid a fun summer and also plan for the next school year.