Life as a starving artist is difficult enough

Page 18

THE URBANE INDIAN

Not that long ago I was at a conference in Montreal on traditional knowledge, or as its affectionately known around our circles-TK. And as it drew to an end, we were all given a button to put on our jackets. It said "Mais avez-vous paye' l'artiste?" Translated it means "But have you paid the artist?" Deep, philosophical, almost religious words for a freelance writer like myself.

Looking back over the years, I figure the amount of money I have not been paid by organizations that approached me for work... well, let's just say could buy a hell of a lot of T-shirts on the powwow trail this summer.

Granted, being a freelance writer is an existence fraught with potential liabilities. That is unfortunately the nature of the beast. Working with some Native newspapers and magazines, you have to expect a certain amount of deadbeat-ism with your career. It's like waitresses who return to a table with the bill only to discover the customers are long gone. Instead of a dine and dash, it's a write and dash. It's par for the course. Kinda like treaties. You are promised one thing, but suddenly, when it's convenient, the promises evaporate.

In some cases, you understand many of these papers are just starting up and have very limited finances resulting in little to offer writers. The magazine is legitimately a labor of love. That's fine, if they tell you that up front. As members of the community, it's expected that we put something back into that community. But there is a fine line between putting back into the community and being taken advantage of by that community. And it should be up to us, the writers, to decide what pro bono work we do.

I was once offered the opportunity to record some of my commentaries for a Native radio network for broadcast. I did it on faith and a handshake... I know, I know, my first mistake. As I finished taping the second one, I asked when I was going to get paid for them. We had previously negotiated and worked out a fee for them. It was then I discovered the agreement had been slightly altered, unbeknownst to me. Instead, the producer asked me if I would consider letting them advertise my Web site and books on air in lieu of payment. I thought about this for a moment, weighed the suggestion, considered the situation. In the end, I felt pretty sure my landlord wasn't interested in having my Web site publicized, especially since I didn't have a Web site. I don't think the Loblaws on the corner would accept a promise to have my books advertised on radio in exchange for a loaf of bread and some baloney. There seemed to be something missing from the equation somewhere.

While bartering is a legitimate part of our culture, I don't think Revenue Canada would be interested in a free lecture or two on Native literature instead of my taxes. Mom, no birthday present this year, but my name is all over the place on the radio!

In another situation, I wrote a lengthy article for a prominent Toronto Native magazine last year. It was published last fall; looked fabulous and glossy. Haven't seen a cent from it since. I have called, pestered, e-mailed and complained... all for naught. Evidently, I don't exist. Neither does my cheque. There is a gaping hole in my bank account with the name of this magazine on it. And I'm not alone.

Kim Ziervogel, founder of the Aboriginal Journalists Association of Canada, has contributed numerous photos to the magazine and has also not received credit or payment.

She added "This rarely happens in mainstream journalism. You write an article. It is published. You submit an invoice. You receive a cheque. It's not that complicated. I've done it a lot. Unfortunately, some organizations feel that just because they're starting out, or are profiling the Native community, they can play with the rules a bit."

While this may sound like a personal diatribe or rant, keep in mind I've been lucky enough to survive in this financially volatile world f freelancing. I do enough work and have other, more reputable organizations that actually pay their invoices. It's other writers, those not quite so lucky as myself, or just starting out, that have me concerned. Writing, like acting, is a tenuous profession at best. And there's the whole philosophy behind running a professional magazine or newspaper. The operative word here is "professional".

If you want professionals to work or write for you, you have to treat them like professionals. It's not a difficult concept. It has to do with a little word called respect. You may have heard of it. Aretha Franklin has a big song about it. It's also mentioned quite frequently in traditional teachings. In fact, going back to the beginning of my so-called rant, I do believe respect was mentioned quite frequently at that conference on traditional knowledge. Funny how things like this come around full circle.