I Need To Be #Winning Like Charlie Sheen: An Agent Intervention

She loves me. I know she does. But my agent hasn’t a problem embarrassing the crap out of me, especially when it comes to the cash money, dollar bills, y’all. Be clear: Victoria Sanders doesn’t play. Let me explain:

A few weekends back, Victoria made a rare trek to Georgia to support and attend A Mysterious Evening, a silent auction and cocktail reception organized by celebrated crime fiction writer extraordinaire Karin Slaughter to raise funds for our local library. I figured I’d invite Vic over for dinner since: A.) Though we’ve been great friends and business partners through 15 book deals, she’s never been to my house and; B.) I’ve bragged forever about my legendary 11-cheese macaroni and cheese and it was high time I made some for her to try. Victoria happily agreed to have an intimate dinner with a small group of my close friends and me, including my sister-in-law/BFF Angelou, our partner in crime, Akilah of Execumama.com, and their respective families.

By all accounts, it was supposed to be a good time.

But then, in the middle of fresh, handmade mojitoes, my world famous mac & cheese, Nick’s grilled salmon, chicken and ribs, and a piping hot pan of homemade peach cobbler, Vic got my friends and family into a circle and proceeded to call a financial intervention on me. First, she acknowledged my gangsta with the words, recounting my career: New York Times best selling author of 19 books, including the best selling book of 2009 Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man, with Steve Harvey, and two NAACP Image Award-winning tomes; longtime columnist for Parenting magazine; founder and editor of the critically-acclaimed, award-winning site, MyBrownBaby.com; contributing writer for Essence magazine; blogger and brand representative for several companies, including Unilever’s Don’t Fret the Sweat and Dove. Then, she heaped on the praise, calling me an amazing talent and a generally smart chick.

And after that, it was all downhill dis. “I’m calling this intervention on behalf of your children,” she said.” Because if you don’t get your act together and stop working for free or next to nothing, your kids will end up going to college here.” Then she got all dramatic and pulled from a bag t-shirts emblazoned with the name of a really random college that I wouldn’t send my kids to on a dare. Suffice to say, it was not Yale.

“Of course,” she said, “if you listen to your agent and start trusting me to get you the deals you deserve not just with books, but with all of your projects, then your daughters will get more of this.” And she got all dramatic again and presented my daughters with the most beautiful Tiffany heart charm necklaces they ever did see. I’m talking The Pretty Blue Bags, y’all. “And they’ll go to Yale,” she added.

Seriously, Dr. Drew has nothing on my agent. Nothing.

Mind you, for years, my agent has been extolling the virtues of being paid your worth a message that I’ve happily repeated over and over again to my freelance writer and blog friends, particularly as more traditional media, reeling from the effects of a surplus of fast, free information on the internet, and multimillion-dollar corporations, capitalizing off brand loyalty and the promise of HuffPo-styled link currency, demand we freelancers do way more for way less. Working for pennies, or worse, products and link love doesn’t keep the house warm in the winter, doesn’t put food in your babies’ bellies or clothes on their backs and doesn’t pay school tuition or extracurricular activity fees. Link love is not a form of payment accepted by the mortgage company, and spending five hours writing, taking pictures, designing your posts and begging your Twitter and FaceBook friends to read them for the privilege of giving away a $25 basket of face wash is, in my Bernie Mac voice, some bull.

Simply put: working for free is for suckers.

At least that’s what I tell my blog friends and folk who want to make a living off the written word.

But this is my confession: Sometimes, I don’t follow my own advice. I accept writing gigs that don’t pay nearly what a New York Times bestselling author with two decades in the business is worth. I make generous alliances with corporations that recognize the value and influence of MyBrownBaby, but cry broke when I suggest they pay what I think it’s worth to introduce their brands on my site, one of the largest on the web written by and for black moms and dads and parents of children of color. And I spend a whole lot of time writing and editing for my site and lending my name and talent to others, knowing full well that for every unpaid word I pen for MyBrownBaby, for every free speaking engagement I accept, for every dollar I spend running to conferences to give away my expertise, I’m losing double the cash I could have made writing a book.

In other words, I’ve been a big time sucker. And Victoria was right for calling me out.

Now, I don’t normally write about such things; there are plenty other bloggers who write eloquently about the relationship between blogger/writer and PR rep/brands. And, of course, I do recognize the value of influence, networking and blogging for the greater good. But really, like the love between Nina and Darius in love jones, it’s become urgent like a m#th*f^ck@ for me to speak to this. Because my writers need to eat. My designer needs a check for her services. And I’m underpaid right now. Which just won’t work if the babies are going to Yale. I gotta save up for the tuition. Nothing personal.

So please know that from here on out, if you need Denene’s skills, you’re going to have to negotiate with and talk contracts to Victoria, whom, I assure you, is gonna need you to bring your checkbook. I may be the sucker, but Victoria has Tiger Blood and Adonis DNA. Oh, and she stay #winning.

 

{Flicker credit: StephenDePolo for Creative Commons}