How to Collect Secondary Royalties

Even in the writing community, it’s not widely known that published writers might be entitled to secondary royalties. These are generated when a work is lent, copied, rebroadcast, &c. Not only that, it’s simple to register for collection.

Firstly, you’ll need the ISBN and/or other details of the publications where your work appears. Then sign up for the Authors’ Licensing and Collecting Society (ALCS) and follow the instructions. Lifetime membership is £36, which is deducted from your first royalties payment so you pay nothing upfront.

There are two payouts per year: in March and September. Writers might be paid in one or both of these, depending on what types of payments have been received. The amounts you receive are never a fortune, but just enough to acknowledge the use of your work.

When I received my payment last week, it was £93.88, with most of that coming from UK fees, but some from EU and non-EU sources. I currently have six works registered, dating back to 2016.

I can’t find a breakdown of the exact amount contributed by each work, but judging by the pattern of payments, it’s a safe bet to assume the more recent ones are higher earners, and I’m quite happy about that.

That latest work was an anthology that took more than two years from the first meeting to the final publication, featuring a number of local poets and photographers. We knew from the start there would be no payment because it was for charity, but we had been promised a complimentary contributor’s copy.

It then emerged that the committee had decided not to offer this. I still have the chain of angry and disappointed emails. Some of the writers offered potential compromises or solutions, but the issue was never resolved and most of us refused to buy a copy.

So although the amount isn’t great, I’ve earned enough from my contribution to buy several copies, even though I still wouldn’t.

It’s Fun to Stay at the ALCS.

Some time ago, On the advice of Writing Magazine, I joined the Authors’ Licensing and Collecting Society (ALCS). If you’ve ever had an article, script or book published, or if you’ve made a contribution to a book, this not-for-profit organisation collects and pays the secondary royalties. Two-thirds of the money is generated by photocopying, scanning and digital copying.

English: A small, much used Xerox photocopier ...
English: A small, much used Xerox photocopier in the library of GlenOak High School in Canton, Ohio, USA. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Lifetime membership of the ALCS costs a one-off fee of £36, but you don’t have to pay anything upfront as it’s deducted from your royalty payments. Likewise, you won’t pay anything if they don’t collect any money for you.

The payments are sent out twice a year, and the March one arrived last week. I was surprised to find I was in profit from the three works I’d registered up to that point.

I debated whether or not to reveal the actual figure. I’ve decided to do so on this occasion by way of encouraging others to register. After the £36 fee was deducted, I was left with £84.12. This isn’t a massive sum, but it’s money that would otherwise have been given to someone else or never have been paid. By contrast, The Purple Spotlights EP has only earned me a total of £7.10 from sales, most of that from the first month after release.

I therefore urge you to join the ALCS today and potentially start receiving those missing payments for your work.

Who’s Who?

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that an editor had tried to reach me but didn’t know the best way to do it. I still haven’t set up an e-mail address or contact form, but I’m looking into my options.

Once the contact is made, how can you be certain the person is legit? If you spend even five minutes on Twitter or any other public platform, you soon learn to regard other users with a healthy suspicion.

To that end, I’ve put together a guide on how I approach the matter. It’s geared towards writers, but the principles apply to any field. Even after following these, you should still use your own judgement.

How much can you find out about them?

If you’re contacted via a website, the user should have some information about themselves and/or the company they represent. If it’s by e-mail, the name of the company often appears after the @ symbol in the e-mail address. In this case, the editor’s first and last names were immediately available on her Twitter profile, and I was able to find a link to the publisher’s website.

When evaluating a company’s website, be sure the address you thought you were going to is consistent with the one you eventually see. If you go to Faber and Faber’s site, for instance, the domain will always appear in the address bar. On the other hand, you can reach this blog by going to http://www.gavincameron.me.uk, and you’ll be redirected to https://gcameronwriting.wordpress.com/. It still doesn’t prove I’m Gavin Cameron, but it is consistent.

Once you’ve reached the site, read the text carefully. Does the text sound like it’s been written by someone who knows their stuff or is it generic marketing copy? Are they giving information about the product or being particularly vague and evasive?

Why me and why now?

Once you’ve checked them out, consider the message you’ve been sent and when it was sent. Is it clear you’ve been targeted because of your skills, or does it seem as though they’ve done a general search for writers and sent the same message to everyone?

As for the when, a friend of mine gave me a prime example recently. She works as a model, and showed posted up a request from an agency who claimed to work for big clients, yet it stated that the photographers could work around the model’s schedule. This is highly unlikely, as most projects in any field are time-limited and require certain actions by a certain date.

In my case, the editor had read previous work of mine and thought my style might suit the publication, and the deadline was spelt out clearly.

Are they asking for money or promising you money?

In publishing, money traditionally flows one way: from the publishing house to the author. Writers were always advised to think twice before giving any money to have their book published. But with the rise in self-publishing, the lines are a little more hazy as the writer has to foot and recoup many of the expenses. So how can you tell who to pay?

Firstly, let’s exclude competitions from this. There is often an entry fee of around £5 per story to cover administrative costs, contribute to the prize fund, and sometimes to make a charity donation. This is perfectly normal.

So, self publishing. The main factor to watch out for is the type of interest the company takes in your book. A place that praises the manuscript to high heaven, or takes no interest in the artistic content, should be treated with suspicion. Even the best books go through several rewrites before they ever see a shelf. A reputable self publisher is more likely to be honest about the manuscript and perhaps offer editorial services. Again, always use your judgement.

The other phrase that should ring alarm bells is to the effect of, “We can’t afford to pay you, but we can give you great exposure.” Often these requests come from well-meaning people who mistakenly believe writing is nothing more than a hobby to you, but sometimes from sources that could afford to pay and choose not to. If it’s for a cause you believe in, or you really do need the exposure, then that’s fair game. Otherwise, my advice is to ignore them or decline the offer. Whether you decline politely is up to you.