The Composing Process -- The Contract

The Creative is taking an in-depth look at the steps I go through in composing a piece of music, from first ideas clear through the end of the publishing process.  Realize this is only my process -- this may or may not work for you, so use it only as a guide.  This is the ninth post in the series.

So you've received your acceptance, and you've let the joy of it permeate your life.  What happens now?

Before anything else can happen, there needs to be an agreement between you and the publisher, a legal  document that says what each of you will do.  Yes, my friends, you have to sign a contract.

"Why?" you ask.  As it stands right now, there is nothing more between you and the publisher than two people saying things.  You wouldn't buy a house based only on a conversation with a loan officer.  The publisher shouldn't take your piece just because you say you wrote it, and you shouldn't have your piece in print based on them just saying they'll do the right things with it.  It might seem needlessly formal and may feel like the publisher doesn't trust you or that you don't trust them, but believe me, with everything in writing, it's just safer.  That way, if something does go wrong, there's already something set up that details how to handle it.

Publishers work in different ways.  Some publishers I've dealt with send out a contract just a week or two after accepting my piece.  Others wait until a predefined amount of time before the piece is scheduled to be in print.  Still others send me the contracts at the same time as engraver's proofs of the piece.  Don't worry if your contract doesn't come right away, and don't pester them about it.  So far, with fifty-plus pieces accepted, I've yet to have a publisher tell me they'll publish a piece, and then never get me the contracts.

So what does a contract detail?  Each are written differently (some are one sheet of paper double sided, others are three or four pages), but each one says essentially the same thing:

1. You are giving your work over to the publishing company so that they'll publish it.  Yes, after you sign this, the piece is no longer your own, but belongs to something bigger.  
2. The publisher can do pretty much whatever they want to with it.  They can print it, let people arrange it, permit people to record it, and pretty much anything else you can think of.  Scary, yes. 
3. You promise that this is your work, and you didn't steal it from anyone else.  If this is the part that stops you from signing, then shame on you -- don't copy.
4. You agree to some things -- You'll give them the manuscript (which, if they've accepted it, you've already done), you'll correct proofs, and if someone sues the publisher because of the piece, you'll give them whatever support is necessary.
5. The publisher agrees to some things -- They'll pay you royalties (usually 10%) on all "regular" copies sold, and other royalties on various other types of sales (like overseas, or if your piece is part of a compilation, plus money for anyone who gets a mechanical license to record your piece).  They'll also give you complimentary copies (depending on the publisher, this will be anywhere from 5 copies to 30), promise to sell copies to you at a discount, and let you know when and how often they'll give you your money.

That, in a nutshell, is what you're signing.  It's very basic, very straightforward ... and very scary.  You are placing a lot of trust in the publisher not to do anything underhanded with your work, not to defile your name, not to ruin your career.  These, fortunately, are nearly groundless fears, the sort of stuff you're more likely to read in a novel than experience in real life.

What you should be worried about (and rightly so) is whether the publisher will treat your work with respect, whether they'll do all they can to get it out there and sell it, whether they'll change it so much it will no longer be recognizable as your own.  Realize, however, that the entire publishing industry is built on trust -- the publishers need you and your composition, and the compositions of all their other composers, or they don't have a business.  It's not just polite for them to try hard to sell your piece, to respect it and the work that went in to it, and not to ruin it in any way -- it's in their best interest.  What's good for you is good for them.

Also, if they've agreed to sell your piece, they think it has a better than fair chance of selling, and hopefully selling well.  If you've given them one piece that can do this, then odds are you can give them another, and another.  They won't jeopardize that future relationship by doing something stupid with the piece you're giving them now.

That being said, don't take my word for it -- this post does not constitute legal advice.  Be sure to read your own contract over carefully to make sure it really does say all this and not something else entirely.

Next time, we'll look at the last thing you have to actually do -- correcting the proofs.  Until then, keep on composing!