I’m not often overtly political on my blog, but there have been several incidences recently that have inspired me to write about a few important facts and figures. These may surprise those who know little or nothing about publishing, but for all those who make assumptions, here is a reality check.

According to the Society of Authors and the Authors Licensing and Collecting Society, the average UK author earns 11,000 a year (You can read the full report HERE). Of course some earn much more but most earn a great deal less. Making a living from writing (or illustrating) requires creative thinking outside the box, and often one has to supplement income from books to keep the wolf from the door.

So how does it all work? Authors get paid royalties, which are a percentage of the book price which you may (or may not) earn from books sales, usually around 5-10% of the price, but very often less; most books are discounted in any case, and the royalty shrinks accordingly. In simple terms, you would expect to get between 50p and £1 for each hardback book sold (and less on a paperback). This is completely normal, and I have no complaints, although it’s often a shock to people.

Publishers recognise that it takes time to earn royalties, so an “advance” on these royalties is paid up front. Usually in sections: a third on signing the contract; a third on delivering the book; a third on publication. The timespan for receiving this money can be a year or more. An average advance for a picture book, both written and illustrated by one author, is usually between £5,000 to £10,000. And no royalties are due until the advance has been paid off. Which may never happen if the book fails to sell enough copies. It can certainly take time; the average picture book hardback print-run in the UK is less than 3,000 copies.

These figures are before tax, before expenses. Professional art materials are incredibly expensive. I spend around £4,000 a year on the basics. Then there is travel, research, all the costs the self employed has to manage, from pens and rubbers to expensive software, and any pension provision.

So you can see the need for continuing royalties, even if it’s only 50p per book.

What happens when books get discounted further? Subject to contractual terms, the royalty may shrink on cheaper books. So you end up getting a tiny % of an even smaller amount. We are talking pennies. Once upon a time there was a system called the Net Book Agreement, limiting the extent to which books could be discounted. But that was abandoned in favour of a “free market” years ago. The result? books can be reduced to next to nothing.

Now, we all like a bargain. I really, REALLY do. I’m sure you all take delight in those book catalogues, falling from the pages of your Sunday newspaper, especially in the run up to Christmas. It can solve all sorts of gift buying problems, and you can buy books for just £1! Perfect!

Except, it it isn’t perfect. It’s a nightmare. Some discount catalogues sell off reduced stock that was over printed; that makes sense. But increasingly, publishers broker cold, hard, cynical deals with these people and then print to order. The publisher is complicit in the arrangement and sells books at extremely low prices (less than 50p per book) to the discount catalogue (but not at a loss to themselves) who then sell them on at a very nice profit – usually £1 per book. Tens of thousands of copies. And the author? I get less than 4p a book, while the discount company makes millions every year. Quite how books are produced this cheaply, I’m not sure – but I have been reassured by my publisher that they follow a code of ethics, and the printer, in China, isn’t a sweatshop. Perhaps a similar code of ethics needs to be applied to authors?

Some book contracts give authors a right to veto such deals, although very often publishers make the deals first and then inform you, too late, of the fait accompli. As for all the work, months and months of time, creating the book, writing, writing, writing, illustrating through the night to meet a deadline, then all the years of promoting and speaking at festivals (for no fee, usually), the blogging, the website (I have to pay for that too), the social media, the opening of libraries, the visits to bookshops, signings, readings… almost all for no payment, what is it for? I suppose I was always thinking of the “bigger picture”. Is this the reward – seeing big impersonal booksellers prosper as a result of my “investment”?

Oh, I know what you are going to say – “It’s such a great way to get books into the hands of children who wouldn’t otherwise have them!”. Well, firstly, isn’t that what libraries are for? If school libraries were compulsory, if book lending was regular, all children in education could have a rich experience of literature and art. In any case, if books to disadvantaged children is the issue, surely it is better to support a professional charitable organisation like The Book Trust who could (and do) get books to all children, starting with a book for every new born child. This I have supported myself with “Can You See a Little Bear?”, which yielded almost zero return for me and illustrator Jackie Morris, but likewise was not a profit making exercise for the company.

Publishers will say: “It’s great exposure – it really gets your name out there”. Oh? I thought it was me who had been doing that for a quarter of a century. Funny, it feels more like they are cashing in on my “bigger picture”.

Then there are bookshops. There is nothing like browsing the shelves, discovering unexpected gems, losing yourself in the design, the illustrations… the feel of a beautifully produced book. But Independent booksellers face customers every day who photograph stock to buy later online, or from a cheap catalogue. I LOVE to support independent booksellers. They work so hard with promotional events, added extras, experience and knowledge. I have often been invited to sign books in shops, only to meet “Waitrose Mums” with armfuls of bargain books, not a penny spent in the shop. And independent sellers look somehow embarrassed, and are made to appear greedy. When all they are trying to do is sell a book at somewhere near a recommended retail price, so the author in question can afford to carry on creating, and bookshops can remain open.

How have we, as a civilisation, allowed books – those volumes of thoughts and dreams and wishes and hopes and humour and art and fact; those books filled with the creativity of the world – to be symbolically reduced to throwaway ephemera. It breaks my heart. People pay more for a magazine, a trip to the cinema, a mid-morning latte… we spend a fortune at supermarkets, on all kinds of stuff, much of which is thrown away, as our filled-to-bursting bins demonstrate. And yet we expect to pay next to nothing for a book.

Next time a bargain book catalogue falls into your lap – please think twice before ordering. Yes, do think of the BIGGER PICTURE. What is the true cost here? A world without writers, dreamers, poets and artists? A society that has no real bookshops? A world where those with something to say, something to enlighten, inspire or educate or touch us, will no longer bother? Because no one wants to feel their work is next to worthless.

I think authors deserve more than pennies for their thoughts.