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vote of thanks.

  Well-meaning and redoubtable persons occasionally lobby for a better deal for those trying to earn a living by the pen or keyboard. Would a plumber fix a leaking tap for nothing, they ask? Would a barrister defend us in court without sending a bill? And we applaud those well-meaning and redoubtable persons because we all want a better deal, we all want to be properly paid for what we do, we all want to be recognised for the professionals we are. We all, dammit, want to eat. And if we want these things we have to fight for them one way or another.

  But there are difficulties and dilemmas. Let’s look at the realities. Writers are asked to “come along to our little group and talk about your work”. We are flattered. We accept. We prepare a talk. Then we tear ourselves away from our keyboards and drive to the venue, we front up to a group of six, or sixty, people and we witter on for forty minutes, with time afterwards for questions.

  An hour’s talk takes a lot longer in terms of preparation and travel as well as the talk itself. At the end, if we are lucky, we receive a vote of thanks and an envelope, which may contain petrol vouchers and a nice card. Sometimes we get a bunch of flowers or a home-made cake as well.

  Increasingly these days, however, writers are getting the message from those well-meaning and redoubtable persons that while we should of course be paid for what we write (and if you don’t agree with that proposition you are not in the writing business, even if you write) we should also be paid for speaking, judging, sitting on panels, travel expenses and other incidentals such as photocopying and toll calls.

  Those activities are part and parcel of our craft, and it costs us time and money to provide those services. Writing is our livelihood, and if we can’t live by our writing and related skills, we would have to get proper jobs. Therefore, the argument goes, we should demand a meaningful return for our efforts, for our own sakes and for the sake of our fellow writers and for the profession itself.

  Writers are urged not to accept peanuts (tokens if you like) because that demeans us, and because we would thereby undercut other writers who have a more robust view of what they are worth. Anyone who accepts less than, say, 40 cents a word (the average current rate) has also to accept the wrath of those who clamour for a better deal for writers.

  So we have a situation where writers who are, for whatever reason, generous with their time and skills, get it in the neck from other writers. It is no use saying that we are casting bread upon the waters, that we do little jobs for peanuts because sometimes little jobs lead to bigger jobs and better recognition, and that maybe we will be able to command real money later on in our careers. To some minds, to write for less than the going rate is to be exploited. Worse, it makes it harder for others to hold out for a fair and reasonable rate.

  It is no use pointing out that it is a buyers’ market, and demanding 40 cents a word is not always realistic. The big names will get it, because the buyers know that big names sell lots of books, magazines and newspapers. The rest of us are likely to be sitting at home, keyboards at the ready, waiting in vain for the telephone to ring. Most writers face this dilemma, and each one of us has to solve it in his or her own way. Because most of us do some work that is paid for at an appropriate rate, some that is paid for in peanuts, and some that is done for love.

  And perhaps for a bottle of wine or a home-made cake.

  WRITING FOR HIRE

  Writers are occasionally approached to help someone put together a family history or biography.

  The material has probably been collected, but it may be in pieces, in boxes and folders and albums. It must be sorted, collated, evaluated and then written, but the person who has done the research doesn’t feel capable of doing the writing and needs professional help. Enter the writer for hire.

  Before you accept this job there are several things you need to consider. Sorting out the details beforehand will save you a lot of time and trouble. Here are some pointers.

  1. Find out exactly what the client wants from you. Are you simply required to watch over progress and give advice now and then or are you expected to start from the beginning and write the whole thing? Is the finished product to be a full-sized book or a short memoir of a few pages? The answer could make a big difference to your decision to take on the job or not.

  2. Is the research all done or will you be expected to interview people, travel or do research?

  3. Don’t underestimate the time the job will take. And it will take longer than you think.

  4. If you are doing the job professionally, charge for all time taken - rewrites, long consultations, travel time etc, as well as the initial writing and expenses. If you are doing it for love, consider carefully whether your time could be better spent. You could regret the time lost.

  5. Decide whether the subject is reasonably interesting and to your taste. The job may be long and you don’t want to get too bored.

  6. Agree on some formula for backing out of the deal, both for yourself and for the client. There is nothing worse than being stuck with an arrangement that isn’t turning out well for either party.

  7. Get the basic agreements in writing, even if it is simply a succession of emails. Each party should be clear about what has been agreed.

  8. Money: agree beforehand on either an hourly rate or a lump sum. The job could take many hours and the cost could be prohibitive, but the client should be told upfront what could be involved. An hourly rate allows the client to watch progress and even call a halt if worried about the rising cost. A little more riskily, you can figure out what you would be prepared to do the job for and quote a lump sum, but you will have to stick with it, or try to renegotiate terms if you find you have underestimated the value of the job.

  There are some further points to consider. For example, I strongly advise arranging for payment to be drip-fed, whichever method you have agreed on. You could suggest chapter by chapter for example, as each is completed and delivered for approval. That way, the client isn’t slugged with a big bill at the end, and the writer gets some money for work done to date. Should there be any disagreement, or either party is not happy before the whole job is done, at least both parties have got something out of it.

  Family histories and memoirs are usually created for private consumption rather than for commercial publication. If the client is, however, hoping for publication, you might have to point out that your work on the writing is probably going to cost them rather more than profits from sales or royalties, because sales are not likely to be substantial unless the subject is celebrated in some way.

  Finally, remember that the client is the boss. This is no time for you, the writer, to get precious about your work. If the client wants the story told in his or her words, that’s how it should be, unless they specifically ask for it to be “improved”. That may well be why they want your help.

  WRITING NON-FICTION

  Non-fiction is everything that isn’t stories or poetry.

  The story of Little Red Riding Hood is fiction. Fiction requires a writer with imagination to invent characters, settings, events and story-lines.

  An article on the dangers to young girls wandering through forests alone would be non-fiction. To generalise somewhat, non-fiction deals in matters of fact. Collecting facts, interpreting them, and writing them down in a coherent, interesting, insightful and readable way to suit the target readership. All we ask of non-fiction writers is that they know what they are talking about and can make that information accessible to us as clearly as possible.

  So, what facts are you going to collect, how do you find them and what do you do with them? That depends on your interests, experience and expertise. Perhaps something that has caught your attention and you want to tell people about it. Perhaps you want to convert people to your point of view. Perhaps you want to argue against, or defend, a position. Perhaps you want to share your travel adventures or explain how to put up a garden shed. The field of non-fiction is as wide as the world we live in, full of the facts that Lord Byron wrote of when he said: “’Tis strange - but true, for truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.”

  One of the first things you need to do is decide what you are going to write about. That may sound ridiculously obvious but many writers, even experienced ones, stumble at this first hurdle. Starting with a vague idea is natural. We all do it, but you need to narrow the focus to specifics, even if you intend writing a whole book rather than an article. If you don’t have a clear idea of what you have in mind, your readers won’t either.

  The next thing to do is collect material - the facts. These can be scribbled notes, ideas for research, even pictures. Information is so widely available now that there is no excuse for not finding it. You don’t have to use everything, but the more material you have the easier you will find the job of selecting the most promising ideas, organising them into the best order, and putting them across to the reader.

  Planning and organisation are practical ways to help yourself find a way through the jumble of material and save you drafting and redrafting. What’s more, you won’t be worrying about not having enough to say.

  What about the angle? There is no point writing an article that covers the same ground, in the same way, as someone else’s