My attitude toward the issue of paid versus unpaid is embodied in a quote from the movie Honeysuckle Rose. "I did it for the love, but I was not above the money." (And if I'm not ashamed to admit that I paid money to see Honeysuckle Rose, I'm certainly not going to blush at admitting I sometimes give it away.What annoys me, however, is the way some sites try to sugar-coat their non-paying status. My favorite is when, rather than admit it's a "4-the-Luv" kind of a deal, they point out you'll get "lots of exposure" and virtual "clips" you can then use to get a better (one that pays) gig. I'm not talking about a site like BellaOnline, which doesn't pay but which does provide its editors with incredibly useful training, a lot of support for their side projects, the opportunity to put advertising on their pages and much, much more. I spent a year as a BellaOnline editor and it was a fantastic experience and I'll do it again if the right topic becomes available. (Right now BellaOnline is looking for editors to cover dozens of topics from adoption to African-American lit to Water Gardens and Women's Sports. If you're interested, go here to learn more.)
I'm talking about the brand-new literary magazines that promise pay as soon as the revenue starts rolling in. In the meantime, though, "we can't afford to monetarily compensate you."
Whenever people use two big words in place of one small one, I start to worry. (And don't get me wrong. I am a huge word snoot. I delight in the more ornate words out there and relish precision of their use. But often, when overly flowery language is used where plain speaking should be, the writer is a) trying score points by making whoever they're talking to feel dumb; b) trying to hide something. (It's the old "baffle 'em wiht bullshit" ploy.)
If you want to say that you don't pay your contributors, just say it. You don't have to use fancy words. I'll get the message.
