On contracts and negotiations in publishing and in life in Brexit Britain
Contracts executive and literary translator Marta Dziurosz provides the most recent installment in our monthly series of insights into the publishing industry.
You hear: “a job in publishing”; the first things you think of are probably editorial, marketing, publicity. Maybe design, possibly finance. But how about operations? Production? And how about contracts? Bigger publishing houses frequently have a dedicated department which deals with drafting and negotiating contracts regarding the purchase of publishing rights from their owners: authors, illustrators, translators, foreign publishers. I work in the contracts department of Pan Macmillan, one of the largest publishers in the UK. My job combines negotiations, drafting contracts, and something that seems quite similar to my other profession, literary translation: being an intermediary between a text (in this case, the contract) and people who don’t understand it (in this case, a lot of people, both in the company and outside it).
To put it simply, the process is as follows: the editor commissioning the book sends the contracts department the basic terms of the deal they've agreed with the rights holder (frequently through an agent); we fit those terms into an appropriate contract template (one of very many), adjusting as necessary, to make sure it suits the specifics of the deal, the book and the author as well as possible, and send this draft to the rights holder; then both sides negotiate the details of the contract, and once everyone's happy, both parties sign the contract and we process the paperwork. This basic pattern gets complicated if a US publisher is involved, or if we're dealing with a book in translation – then the contracts with the original rights holder and the translator have to dovetail.
It's a job that requires an in-depth understanding of the ins and outs of the business, oodles of patience, masses of tact, and a willingness to do a lot of digging in archival files and contracts so old that they might mention “wax cylinders” or “magnetic tape” among their audio formats. Drafting a contract successfully requires familiarity with precedents of other, similar deals, and an awareness of how much those precedents can be tweaked. You might need to consult the legal department to see whether a particularly atypical request from the rights holder can be accommodated, or whether a certain provision will work across country borders. The detail you need to focus on is sometimes truly Byzantine, but at the same time you must be able to then discuss it with people who might not be as fluent in legalese – say, a self-employed Korean children's illustrator, or, indeed, a literary translator – and make sure they understand what you're saying during the negotiations.
This is definitely a behind-the-scenes job; yes, the contracts people do go to launches and raise flutes of prosecco to celebrate authors, but we are not the ones bringing in the big names, the big sales, or the spectacular rights income, not the ones designing the witty, eye-catching and beautiful covers. Still, the contracts stage of a publishing deal is, of course, vital.
I write this also as a Polish citizen living in Brexit Britain. Sometimes I can't help but think there are echoes between the things I do and the things I am - a contracts executive, a literary translator, an immigrant: looking at both sides of the deal, both languages, both countries; communicating with all sorts of people, code-switching between the languages I use; working quietly, in the background, at something that's essential, yet frequently overlooked, that makes the whole mechanism run smoothly.