I, a totally unknown white woman with one viral article, got an advance that was more than double what @rgay got for her highest advance. #publishingpaidme $400,000 for How to Fall in Love with Anyone. I've written an essay about this (forthcoming) but I want to say more here:
The advance worked like this: Once my agent took his cut, I received $85,000 a year for four years. Converted to Canadian Dollars that was about $100K, which Google tells me is about what the average physiotherapist in my city earns.
That amount of money was a little more than double what I made teaching full time at a major Canadian university. It changed my life in all sorts of ways, opportunities writers of color almost never receive:
I was able to take A FULL YEAR off from my teaching job to write my book. (You'll note, I was privileged enough to have a job that would give me time off in the first place.) I was able to take time off from teaching to promote my book, which was a full-time job for a few months.
I was able to afford a down payment on a very small condo in my wildly expensive city, meaning that I, unlike many other writers, don't have to leave town to continue to pursue this career. I have an affordable mortgage payment that is now less than what I would pay for rent.
For the first time in my adult life, I have savings! As a sessional/adjunct I only had a very small pension. This financial cushion now means that I can take career risks that I never could've taken before.
It also means that I can take no- and low-paying opportunities that raise my profile as a writer. The two TEDs Talks I've done have opened many doors for me, but I couldn't have devoted the time to those talks without knowing that I didn't have to use that time to make money.
When almost all of my sessional colleagues lost their jobs from UBC's English Department last year, I was able to choose to leave that job before it officially ended and take a part time job in the Creative Writing program, all because I knew I had a financial cushion.
In the end, the book did not sell all that well. Even though I am super proud of it, it is laughably far from earning out that advance. My publishers took a risk on me: a white, straight, able, cis woman writing about love. Would they have taken that risk on a different writer?
Because my publishers took a risk on me, they put a ton of energy and resources into promoting my book. So even despite it's lackluster sales, I personally benefited and continue to benefit from the media exposure that came along with that book.
I have felt so much embarrassment and shame over the dollar amount on that contract. Not because I think my work is less valuable than a physiotherapist's, but because I know how cutthroat the industry is and how stupidly lucky and privileged I have been and continue to be.
I believe being transparent about money is a fundamentally feminist and anti-capitalist act. Especially when you are a beneficiary of our capitalist system. I know writers who earn more than I have, but the vast majority do not.
Last year I earned $36,000 and it was one of the happiest years of my work life. I'll probably earn the same this year. I'm constantly trying to figure out the balance between this career and being able to donate time and money to my community and causes that advance justice.
It's not at all obvious how this should work. But it is SUCH a privilege to have these choices.
Since so many more people than I expected are seeing this, I also want to add this for white folks: transparency is great and necessary but it is also not enough. If you have the means: redistribute your wealth. I’m working on ways to better build this practice into my life.
Buying books by Black and Indigenous writers from (ideally) Black and Indigenous owned bookstores is a good start.
My friend Rachel Ricketts is a racial justice educator and author and she sends out regular links on reparations in her newsletter. Sign up here: rachelricketts.com/about-1
