“But you don’t always publish paperbacks,” I interrupted. “You haven’t for my last two books.”
“Oh, that could change; don’t worry,” she cooed at me.
“Iamworried,” I exclaimed, since she was making it sound like it was a done deal. “That’s a tiny advance and a long time between payments. And two percent is nothing.”
“Not if you sell a lot of books.” Piper grinned like she was delivering a punch line and not a death knell.
“Ican’t do anything to sell books,” I reminded her. “It’s not like I can jump on social media and promote them. No one knows I’m Dakota. Once the book is out of my hands, I’m powerless to do anything to move it.”
“Right, right,” she said quickly. “Rest assured that we do everything in our power to promote. And won’t it be lovely knowing that you’ll get a nice royalty payment as time passes? Like Christmas!”
Christmas as celebrated by Scrooge. Based on their projections, all that the new model would do is take my primary paycheck, reduce it by a third, and then spit out a little tiny payment at best once a year.
I was fucked.
“We have new paperwork you should look over,” Piper continued. “And a revised contract for the book you’ll be turning in . . . when exactly?”
I sighed as I gathered the courage to say what had to come next.
“Actually, if you force me to accept the new payout structure, Iwon’tbe turning it in.”
My response shocked both of us.
“I’m sorry?” Piper’s faux-chipper expression fell.
A scene played out in my head: Austin and Abby rushing out of the horse barn, desperate and scared, then their bodies dissolving and slowly disappearing into vapor.
I felt terrible to see them go, but I knew what I had to do.
“These changes don’t work for me,” I said firmly. “It’s basically a demotion. Is there any chance we can keep our current payout for this series, then discuss a different model for future books?”
I already knew the answer.
“Brooke, I’m still processing what you just said about the first book in this series. You’rerefusingto submit it?”
I shook my head and leaned closer to my laptop. “Not if you’re not going to pay me as we agreed.”
“But... I explained to you that... Brooke, we have acontract.”
“You said I voided it.”
Her eyes flashed. “Youcannotpublish that book under your own name. Those characters belong to Liaison. Our legal team will come after—”
“Piper.” I sighed. “I’m not going to do that. That would be fraud, but apparently you’re not familiar with the concept.”
“We already have a rollout underway,” she sputtered. “We’ve announced the series. Brooke, please.”
I shrugged and hoped I didn’t look as stressed-out as I felt. “You’ve mentioned that Janet Li wants to get into this genre; I’m sure she’d be thrilled to take over.”
Piper’s expression softened. “But we love your writing.”
“Not enough to pay me,” I fired back.
My heart was thundering in my chest, because I was basically talking myself out of the only steady income I had at the moment. I was going to wind up writing every shitty press release and instruction manual possible to make ends meet.
Although... maybe this was my sign to give up on writing completely and go back to copywriting full-time? Because it sure as hell wasn’t working out for me.
“I have to admit that I’m shocked by your reaction.” Piper shuffled through papers just off-screen. “I think you should take some time to consider everything before you make a rash decision.”
