Take that, lousy contract. There, I feel better now. Sort of.

I don't spend a lot of time here complaining about the writing life. Hey, I chose it. I'm here, most of the time, to connect with others who have also chosen to write. So I try to confine my complaining. Then, there's this…..

The other day, I get an emailed contract from a new website, and in between reading it on the screen, I'm also scanning email, and oh look -- an announcement that the site is now live! Funny I thought that was happening in two weeks.

I click over, check things out, look around the site and see…my essay. The very same essay to which the contract pertains. I wonder, am I old or just old fashioned in expecting contracts to arrive BEFORE publication?

A few hours later, I get another email. So sorry, it ways, but the dollar amount in the contract is, ahem, wrong. It's actually, you know, less money. About half as much. Not a problem, is it? And, oh yes, by the way, there is a new payment schedule – 60 to 90 days after publication, not 30.

Did I mention the contract's lousy terms, how the publisher wants to own – well, everything? Publisher, you know what, I have an idea, let's save us both some time: How about if you also take…oh I don't know, how about rights to my entire inventory of past, current and future pieces, all my current and future ideas, and all my notes too – hey, you never know, you might want to one day publish, resell, reassign, republish in any media, now existing or ever invented, without further compensation.

For the first time in my professional life, I pick up the phone and tell a publication where to stick their contract. I say take down the essay and they do. I don't feel much better. But I think I will.

Rights, Schmights...Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

I've seen all kinds of contracts, from the good to the grotesque, and often the worst are for online venues. This one, however, really got me thinking: Why even bother with a contract? Why not just say something like (cue TV pitchman voice): "write it, send it, then forget it"?

OK, here it is – bold, italics and colored type is mine, just so that you don't miss a single miserable rights-grabbing word. The offending offal-eating "publisher" shall remain nameless, not because I think such media world menaces should not be publicly uncloaked, but because frankly, I don't want to deal with them again. Anymore. Ever.

"Rights. You shall retain all of your ownership rights... However…you hereby grant ___and its affiliates a worldwide, non-exclusive, fully paid-up, royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable, sublicenseable, and transferable license to use, reproduce, distribute, modify, adapt, prepare derivative works of, display, perform, and otherwise exploit your..submission in connection with ____ and ____'s (and its successor's) business, including without limitation for promoting and redistributing part or all of the ____ site (and derivative works thereof) in any media formats and through any media channels now known or hereafter discovered. You grant _____ and its affiliates and sublicensees the right to use the name that you submit … if they choose. You also agree to irrevocably waive (and cause to be waived) any claims and assertions of moral rights or attribution with respect to your..submission. You also hereby grant to each user of the ____ site a non-exclusive license to access your submission, and to use, reproduce, distribute, prepare derivative works of, display, and perform …. "

I think what really put me over the top on this one – even though it's horrible throughout – is that someone really thought it would go over well with creative contributors to use the word "exploit" in a rights contract.

Yup, I really want to write for them.