Creating the perfect setting: with author Kerry McGinnis

Author Kerry McGinnis talks to Pamela Wilson about:

• How to write the perfect setting for your characters;
• How to help readers see the world through characters' eyes, without saying much at all;
• Managing the highs and lows of writing;
• How even Blind Freddy can see when your story is good enough for publication.

“I write about the bush because I am not qualified to write about anything else,” Kerry McGinnis says, explaining how she chose the setting for her latest novel, Wildhorse Creek.

“You figure out it has to have a background that you are comfortable with, that you know have got right.”

Wildhorse Creek is the story of Billy Martin, a teenager who runs so far from his troubled home that he finds himself working as a station hand on a property in the Gulf of Carpentaria in northern Australia.

Having lived most of her life in the Gulf, and droving with her family since the age of 12, Kerry's knowledge of the setting she chose for Billy is second-nature.

“When we lived in the Gulf country, I used to say we lurched from one crisis to the next... so it is not hard to organise when it is happening all around you. That might be the ideal way to pile on the pressure and to get the conflict going (in a story), but it is also very true."

Kerry has always written what she knows. Her first two books, Pieces of Blue and Heart Country, are memoirs, while The Waddi Tree is a fictional tale of two branches of the McAllister families who run cattle stations in Central Australia.

For her latest book, however, she took her character from his home in the lush, rolling, green hills of dairy country – country she has only ever passed through – to the land she knows.

Saying little can mean so much

By truly understanding and picturing Billy’s 'country', or what she calls his belonging place, Kerry was able to help readers see this harsh new environment of the Gulf through his eyes.

“I filled my vision with what (dairy country) looked like so I could write about it. You often do a lot of that preparedness for a book,” she says.

“It gives you more awareness of who your character is if you physically know where they come from. For me, knowing where people come from means their country, their belonging place... not their circumstances.

“That sort of gives you an edge when you are describing it through his eyes because he is conscious of the difference and you’re conscious of the difference even though you haven’t told the reader.”

Rather than 'telling' her readers how different this environment is to anything Billy has ever known before, she shows them through the questions he asks, his conversations and the observations he makes.

His skin was slicked with sweat...

"It always this hot in April?” (Billy asks.)

It was a beautiful day under the clear arch of the Autumn sky with the wattle coming into flower, and the seed heads of the grass ripening in swathes of pale gold. The water lilies were out in the swamps...

“It’s worth it, isn’t it? The heat and the hard yakka. Ivy said this country was magic. She was right.”

Riding the peaks and troughs of writing

For Kerry, magic is something she experiences every time her writing is going well.

“It’s like being in love. It’s just a really, really good feeling. When the writing is going well, your whole life is wonderful,” she smiles.

“Then (the character) says something or does something or something doesn’t turn out right and you feel like you could kill yourself.”

It's at times like this that Kerry knows she needs to take a break. This usually involves a cup of tea and some light ‘forgettable, frothy’ reading from a magazine or a pile of books collected from the library.

“If you get lots of forgettable stuff from the library... it rests your brain and it really takes you away from where you are at with the book, and if you go back afterwards often you can see where you were going wrong. You have to go through that process to get to the points where you know it was wrong.”

Knowing when the story is good enough

Equally, there is a process Kerry takes to getting it right: multiple drafts, lots of edits, plenty of rewriting.

“You can see the distance you’ve come from when you first began to rework it. Blind Freddy could see it, actually,” she quips.

“You think every draft is wonderful, but when you have had a little distance from it and the input of an editor you can see even before they start to tell you that, ‘Yes, this is wrong. This is too long, etc.’ With their help you know after a while that you are improving it all the time.”

And, just like that, when the writing - or editing - is going well, Kerry gets that really, really good feeling again.

For more information about Pamela Wilson or WriteSmart, log on to http://www.writesmart.com.au/

Wildhorse Creek
By Kerry McGinnis
Published by Penguin Australia
March 2010

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Going for the kill on fees

© Ijansempoi Dreamstime.com

Earlier this week over at The Content Makers, the boss of Nuance Multimedia Australia , Jim Clarke, wrote a guest post talking about freelance rates and experiences.

The general thrust of his post was that while freelancers are sometimes taken advantage of, they are not always model contractors themselves.

But it was one of Jim’s comments tucked down the bottom of the post that got me thinking.

He was talking about kill fees, and this is what he wrote:

Occasionally stories do get pulled for various reasons. The starting point for consideration is was the piece accepted by the editor?

If so, then a 50% kill fee should be paid, the publisher has no further right to publish the story and the writer is at liberty to place the work with any other publisher.

However, if the publisher wants to retain the exclusive right to publish the piece at a future date then the full commissioned amount should be paid to the writer.

Extenuating circumstance may cause a commission to be withdrawn after research has started. If the writer has invested serious time, telephone calls etc into preparing the piece then an appropriate fee should be paid.

Let me say, if all editors thought the same as Jim on this issue, freelancers would be as happy as a group of teenage girls locked in an elevator with Twilight’s blood-sipping spunk Rob Pattinson.

But the reality is that Jim's simple and logical policy on kill fees is not shared by all editors. Sure, a lot of them will pay a kill fee without any fuss, but not all.

To be fair to my current editors - who I wouldn’t trade for a whole day in the lift with smouldering Rob - the quandary of an unpaid kill fee is not an issue I often encounter these days.

But it certainly is a muddy puddle that many freelancers have trouble wading through.

My feeling is that there are four reasons for this:

1. Freelancers are often not sure of their rights when it comes to kill fees.

2. At what point is the story, in Jim's words, 'accepted' in the editor's mind? Without knowing this, it will be hard to ascertain when a kill fee is applicable.

3. Freelancers are notoriously bad at asking for money.

4. Not every editor has a policy like Jim’s.

Let’s consider the points in a little more detail.

1. What are my rights when it comes to kill fees?

The answer to this question should be on your contract. And, yes, you should have received a contract after you were commissioned and before you began work on the story.

Every contract is different, so don't skip the fine print.

As an example, the Media Entertainment and Arts Alliance standard contract states:

Where in advance of the delivery date, Publisher wishes for any reason not to proceed with the publication or broadcast of the material Publisher shall pay to Journalist/artist/photographer one half (1/2) of the fee referred to in Clause 3 of the Schedule. Further Publisher shall pay to journalist/artist/photographer all expenses incurred to date of notification.

If your contract doesn’t have a clause outlining its policy on kill fees, you have every right to ask.

2. When is a kill fee applicable?

If the editor spikes the story before you send it in, should they have to pay a kill fee? Or is a kill fee only applicable after the story has been completed and sent in?

To get clarity on this, it is worth asking your editor:
(A) Will they pay a kill fee if they pull the pin on the story after it has been written and submitted?
(B) Will they pay a kill fee if they pull the pin before it has been completed, but once significant work has been done on it?

There is another question to consider here; will the circumstances under which the story is spiked affect whether or not a kill fee is paid?

The reasons a story might not run can be varied; maybe the issue becomes too old before the editor can run it or their page count has slumped along with advertising revenue so there is no room to run it.

But what if the story simply is just not good enough. What if no amount of editing, coaching, guiding or mentoring is going to bring story to life. In other words, what if the freelancer just hasn't been able to pull it off?

I asked a few editors about kill fees and one of them said, “We do pay kill fees if the reason we kill a story is due to circumstances beyond the journo’s control. If we don’t run it because it’s not salvageable then we wouldn’t pay a kill fee in that case (but it would have to be pretty bad). Often a kill fee is about 50% but it really depends on the story.”

Another explained that although the company did have a kill fee policy of 50%, their personal policy was to make every attempt to the run the story. If it was so poorly written that it couldn't be run, however, they would pay the reporter the full fee, but never use them again.

So, the only way you can know if and when you are entitled to a kill fee is, again, to ask your editor.

3. Freelancers are notoriously bad at asking for money

I don’t know what it is about writer folk, but many of us are certainly not at our most ruthless when sitting at the negotiating table discussing money.

As a result, when we are faced with the disappointment of a spiked yarn, we do little more than trudge back to our computer with pens tucked into our ears, resigned to pitching another idea. (Of course, this does not apply to all freelancers, but in my experience it certainly applies to a good proportion.)

My suggestion is to simply square our shoulders and ask for what is rightfully ours.

This is obviously a lot easier if point one has been established and we actually know what the publisher’s kill fee policy is.

If this hasn’t been established and you are faced with a spiked story, however, you do have options.

1. Firstly, give the editor a call and chat about the situation, explaining the hours you have whittled away penning them a masterpiece. If you have established a good rapport with your editor you will more likely get a favourable response.
2. Send out an invoice for the story anyway, charging 50% of the commissioned rate and stating on the document that this is the kill fee you are seeking. You never know, you might get lucky.

4. Not every editor is like Jim

The freelance writing profession is not a self-regulated profession governed by extensive industry standards and policies. Quite simply, all editors do things differently.

Some are extremely fair and supportive, like Jim. Others not so much.

Some may not pay kill fees at all. They feel that because they didn’t use the story, they don’t have to pay.

As an aside, think for a moment how this would go down in other industries. Say a builder spends three weeks renovating your bathroom, only to have you wander up when he’s finished and say, ‘You know what, we don’t actually use that bathroom, we use the one down the hall, so I am not going to pay you for this.’

I’m pretty sure the builder would like to organise his own ‘kill’ fee right about then.

So, what do you do about those editors? Not a lot if you didn’t sign a contract stating the kill fee policy. But you can talk to your union – if you are member – or try polite, but assertive negotiation.

If getting money from your editor is like prying those teenage girls from Rob's limbs though, your only solution may be to cut your losses and find another editor.

And therein lies the solution to all of your woes.

The key to a blissful freelancing existence lies in finding those supportive and fair editors and then making their lives easier by turning in great copy on time, every time, and being professional and easy to work with.

If you can do this, you and your editor will be as loyal to - and supportive of - one another as Sonny was to Skippy and vice versa.

So, tell us, what’s your kill fee experience?

For more information about Pamela Wilson or WriteSmart, log on to http://www.writesmart.com.au/

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