Gotta fight for the write
NZ’s most illustrious authors fear the meagre amounts they earn from years of toil could be eroded by changes to copyright laws. Kelly Dennett reports.
Maurice Gee recalls it wasn’t until he was mid-career that he and his wife felt financially comfortable enough for him to commit to his writing full-time. By that stage his first novel The Big Season had already been published, in 1962, and he’d gained critical acclaim for his 1979 fiction Plumb.
‘‘But that depended absolutely on my wife being able to go back to work after our children were born. Certainly you needed a partner in full-time work.’’
He reflected this week that his work as a teacher added to the family kitty. His income, as most authors’ are, was cobbled together from various work.
The 88-year-old has been called ‘‘one of the finest writers in the Englishspeaking world’’ (London’s Sunday Times), but even now Gee says it’s a hard slog financially.
‘‘I don’t recall that I was making any sort of living before the Public Lending Right (PLR) kicked in. There was the odd windfall, for example, if a novel was picked up by a film company – once or twice in my case (Fracture, and In My Father’s Den) – so (PLR) was an important part of my annual earnings.
And I call it earnings, not a handout.’’
In 2019, writers were making about $15,000 annually with about half of those surveyed relying on a partner’s income, or a separate job.
For some authors, a yearly boon can be found in the PLR fund, a government payment to authors to compensate them for library lending. The PLR is an invisible issue to most: you go to a library, loan a book, and you return it.
But the pot of money that pays authors for the public’s privilege, administered by the Department of Internal Affairs (DIA), has been stuck at $2m annually for more than a decade. It’s divided up by nearly 2000 authors, and doled out according to the number of books those authors have in libraries. The rate for 2019 was about $3.39 per book. Authors aren’t paid for works that are turned into e-books or audiobooks, and the more authors that register, the more the pool is squeezed. For years the New Zealand Society of Authors has campaigned to increase the fund. It hasn’t been adjusted for inflation, and they think it should at least be closer to $2.7m.
The PLR gives Gee about a third of his annual
income. ‘‘It’s very important for young writers, to allow them to at least become semi-professional. In my experience, there’s not a lot of money to be made from fiction.’’
The DIA agreed to review the fund, and while authors await the results – it’s been held up by the lockdown – they are also concerned about the direction of another piece of legislation that affects their livelihood: the Copyright Act, which has been under official scrutiny for years, culminating in more than 100 competing submissions from Big Tech and creatives.
The latter are concerned that changes to the act could further erode their ability to earn from their works, as an increasing number of people are able to access New Zealand literature for free. New Zealand recently became a signatory to the Marrakesh Treaty, allowing Kiwis with a disability – about 25 per cent of the population – to access books for free, without needing copyright permission.
While authors make no bones of increasing access to literature, with the margins already tight under the PLR, they’re left wondering: where is their compensation? This month the New Zealand Society of Authors wrote to Education Minister Chris Hipkins, saying policy needed to be addressed to ensure the survival of creative industries. They suggested having a centralised copyright licence for all schools, and including school libraries in the PLR.
Copyright Licensing NZ is also planning to meet with the Human Rights Commission, over its ‘‘abject horror’’ at the direction the Copyright Act review, overseen by the Ministry of Business Innovation and Employment (MBIE).
Chief executive Paula Browning says the review overlooks how writers will earn from their work. International lessons show copyright legislation can take away from an author’s right to earn, with copyright exceptions – such as the Marrakesh Treaty – seeing more free access with no compensation to the author. Big Tech has a stake too – it needs content to monetise.
‘‘It is government writing about what it is that you do every day and you can’t see yourself in it, or worse you see something in it that says you want to stop me from doing what I want to do,’’ Browning says.
‘‘There’s so much our creative industries add to the country: cultural, social, and economic value. It’s important they’re better understood across government agencies, and it’s not always the case.
‘‘We’re not oil companies, or things that could be seen to be being negative for the country. We’re talking about our writers and our publishers. They add value, they don’t extract value, and the concern that they have, it’s not saying too much to say they feel like they’re being put out of business.’’
One section of the MBIE review document particularly chafes. While noting it wouldn’t be fair to only be concerned with material interests, it says creators appear to accept incomes below an adequate standard of living because of their work satisfaction.
‘‘This proposition that writers just do their work for love is a scurrilous attack on the integrity of all authors,’’ says Dame Fiona Kidman.
It was the 1970s when novelist Kidman, with PEN International, negotiated the former iteration of the PLR – the New Zealand Authors’ Fund – with then Prime Minister Norman Kirk.
Kidman recalls Kirk was an avid reader ‘‘and proud of it’’. ‘‘It was a case of ‘come in a for a chat’ and ‘what a great idea’. That it was a fair and just concept. It was all on and writers were thrilled.’’
But at some point that writers earn less has become accepted.
‘‘Most of us do love our work,’’ Kidman says. ‘‘We would have to, to receive so little compensation for our labours. But I know people who love their work in all walks of life, their chosen profession, or trade, and some of their choices would not be yours or mine.’’ (Gee agrees. ‘‘It’s one of those myths that needs to be shot down.’’)
One of New Zealand’s most successful authors, Kidman says her income is ‘‘very modest’’. She recalls her first PLR payments were a lifeline.
‘‘It wasn’t ever a special treat. Writers hang out for their cheque in December, wondering whether they can get through Christmas or not... the pickings were often lean in our household.’’
N‘This proposition that writers just do their work for love is a scurrilous attack on the integrity of all authors.’’ Dame Fiona Kidman
Z Society of Authors chief executive Jenny Nagle says the PLR is unfit for purpose in the digital age, brought home by the Covid-19 lockdowns where people were being encouraged to download e-books while they couldn’t get a hard copy.
‘‘There is no other product the government would requisition without compensating the producer,’’ Nagle says. ‘‘It sticks in the craw. It’s become all about access. Access improves people’s life experience and academic opportunities, and we have no problem with that. The problem is that it’s uncompensated. The only person who is being asked to pay for that, is writers.’’
MBIE’s approach to copyright was concerning. ‘‘They still don’t get the ecosystem for publishing and writing, and how that sort of works. It infantilises writers (by saying) ‘writers are motivated by more than money to write’.’’
Nagle recalls a story about beloved author Margaret Mahy, discussing her next project with an editor, who was apologising for raising the issue of money. ‘‘And Margaret Mahy said, ‘what do you mean? I love talking about money.’’
Late last year award-winning novelist Paula Morris gave a keynote speech at a Wellington hotel on the subject of copyright. She introduced herself as an artist and inventor. ‘‘I’m a business,’’ she told the audience. ‘‘A small one, but give me time. I’m an opportunist, a strategist, an entrepreneur. I’m not a charity, and I’m not a hobbyist. I create things, and some of those things I sell.’’
Her calling card, historical fiction Rangatira ,is taught at universities around the world, has earned her gigs at international festivals and been adapted for broadcast by RNZ. Every year, for Rangatira, she receives about $600 from the PLR.
‘‘It’s outrageous that so many people expect to make money out of creative content, but don’t believe the creators should be paid,’’ Morris said