Snippet
Dear Purina Pro-Plan ~ You might want to re-think your adhesive of choice for the bottom of your 34 pound bag of adult dog food.
Just a thought.
Five Things
1. There’s a new bar + eatery in Santa Monica that just opened yesterday ~ my husband and I checked it out and we think it’s a winner! Check out The Misfit.
2. Issue #4 of Spoonful Zine is out ~ I love this little publication.
3. I love Julie Bartel’s Gypsy Wraps.
4. One of the books in my current rotation (I tend to read 3-5 books at a time) is Freedom by Jonathan Franzen. Loving it!
5. For spoiled dogs in Santa Monica and West Hollywood, there’s no place better than Healthy Spot. P.S. Guess who’s spoiled?
The Bear
Tilda was with us for less than a week when this picture was taken – still velvet soft and happy to sleep most of the day away. This was before she entered what I lovingly refer to her as Psychotic Baby Teeth stage, when she was capable of instilling the same kind of fear I imagine might overcome me if I were swimming underwater and came face to face with Jaws. She was the perfect, docile little angel when the dog trainer came over for a session, and then within five minutes of his departure, something would click inside of her brain like an itty bitty bullhorn announcing, “TIME TO GO BATSHIT!” and we’d all take cover.
Bringing Tilda into our lives has not been without its challenges and adjustments. In fact, I’ll say it has been one of the biggest challenges my husband and I have faced together, one that I am, quite frankly, relieved we got through. I had plenty of warning that the challenge of raising a puppy is a lot like the challenge of bringing up a baby, but I didn’t bother to heed any of it. All I could think about was little Tilda with her adorable puppy head resting on my husband’s knee, and her adorable puppy tail wagging when she curled up in my lap. I wasn’t able to think about the muddy paw prints that would be a permanent fixture on our kitchen floor, the countless toys she would destroy within minutes, the rug she would chew up, or the clothes she would rip to shreds. I had no way of knowing how much brain space she would take up, how many details I would have to keep track of, how many bags of poo I’d have to collect. More to the point: I had no earthly idea what I was getting myself into.
But the weeks passed, and things began to shift. Her baby teeth fell out, and I high-fived everyone I came into contact with. She started going out on regular doggy play dates, getting the happy exercise she needs and making lots of friends. She is – after who knows how many miles marched around our neighborhood – finally learning to heel and I’m actually enjoying our daily walks. She still barks too much, steals our socks, gets into the trash, and jumps on everyone, but in those areas where she’s still too feisty, I know it is a matter of training more than her being a bad dog. In other words, I’m doing my best, and tackling as much as I can with regard to her behavior. She might not be an example of perfect discipline, but we’ve made huge progress.
Through it all, I love being woken up by her in the morning, her body so full of energy and excitement that she can hardly contain herself. I love her Chewbacca-esque complaints, and I love how thrilled she gets when I give her a piece of cardboard (cardboard!) I love that she has a little stubborn side to her, and that she transitions immediately from fierce (meaning: barking) protector to everyone’s best friend the minute someone walks into our house. I love the way she curls up next to my feet when I’m washing my face before bed. She has become, despite my frustrations and resistance and downright momentary regrets, part of our family.
I was slightly terrified to get a puppy. My track record with pets hasn’t been especially happy or good, and I wasn’t sure I would do a good enough job. At one particularly difficult point during Tilda’s training, our trainer gently told us that if this wasn’t what we had signed up for, she was sure she could find Tilda a good home. Oddly, having someone give us permission to make that choice made me that much more committed to working through our issues. And while I’m not sure we actually “worked through” them, I know we have at least moved beyond them, and I’m now content to simply do my best, love her as much as I can, and sink into all the joyful imperfections of our lovely Tilda Bear.
Somerset May 2011
Somerset Studio, May/June 2011 There are two new features in this issue of Somerset Studio. Read about Christine’s in-depth profile of artist and author Sabrina Ward Harrison, and after that head over to her Across the Globe story, which is about the beautiful print shops of Havana, Cuba.
In the Toolbox: Contracts
Ten things you need to know about licensing contracts.
1. A licensing contract grants another entity permission to use your artwork/imagery on specific products for a specific length of time for a specific royalty rate. Those are the three main points a contract needs to be – wait for it – specific about.
A fellow artist once sent me a contract someone had offered her, wanting me to review it and give her my opinion of the terms. The royalties paragraph blathered on about economic circumstances being impossible to predict, and that certain rates can’t be guaranteed, and yadda, yadda, yadda – just one of the many red flags that popped up in a contract I advised her not to sign. Licensees don’t get to adjust royalty rates willy nilly during the term of a contract. A rate is set and that’s that.
2. A licensing contract needs to specify that you, the Artist, retains copyright ownership of your artwork.
3. I once read a contract from a fairly well-known company that said itemized royalty reports wouldn’t be provided, and when the artist (a colleague) pushed back on this, the owner claimed it would be “too complicated.” I advised this artist not to sign the contract. No itemized reports means you, the Artist, don’t know how many of what items sold, which means the licensee may or may not be paying all the royalties you’ve earned. A contract should specify exactly when you will get paid (usually quarterly), and that you will receive itemized sales reports. It should also specify that you have the right to audit the licensee if you believe royalty reports are inaccurate.
4. The contract should specify the copyright notation and any other information that will be shown on all of your products – your full name, website, etc.
5. Royalty rates can vary – I’ve received as low as 2% and as high as 10%. Each of those extremes is rare, and I’ve experience an array of royalty negotiations, each time following my intuition. I have accepted the first rates offered without negotiation, and I’ve also turned contracts down because a potential licensee refused to budge. Most of the time a contract is offered, the royalty negotiation goes like this: they make an offer, I counter, they counter again, and somewhere we meet each other halfway.
With each negotiation, I try to balance a number of factors – how large the distribution is, how expansive of a product line the company is creating with my work. Also – do I have a good feeling about the company? Is there potential for something more significant beyond the first contract?
This is why a contract needs to be specific about what products artwork and imagery will be used for. Perhaps your first contract with a new licensee is for journals and bookmarks, and a 4% royalty rate is accepted. And maybe this feels a wee bit on the low side for you, but you decide to go for it because this company has an expansive product line and the potential for growth is significant. Then let’s say those journals and bookmarks sell like crazy, and the company wants to add more products. In that second round, you have the opportunity – should you feel inspired – to request an increased rate.
My goal is never to simply wrestle the biggest royalty rate I can out of companies; I try to create a contract that gives me enough of what I need on a variety of issues.
6. Not all contracts will include an advance on royalties, but if you feel inspired to ask for one, ask for one. What’s the worst that can happen? They can say no. On the one hand, it is entirely fair to request compensation in the form of an advance because you are going to be doing work for this company for royalties that might not start coming your way for months. On the other hand, remember to balance this point of the contract with other factors – distribution, the royalty rate, etc.
One other thing to keep in mind – are you an artist new to the licensing scene? Or do you already have a string of successes under your belt? A proven track record is definitely an asset when it comes to the issue of an advance.
My experience? When I haven’t been offered an advance, I’ve usually asked for one, and anytime I’ve asked for one I’ve received it. I think the main reason is because what I’ve asked for is fair. Again, it isn’t about trying to grasp as much as I can, but about requesting what feels fair for the work I will be doing.
7. If you do request an advance, and it is granted, the contract should specify that it is a non-refundable advance. Guess who learned that one the hard way?
8. Once a contract is secured and your products are flying off the shelves, don’t be shy about continuing to present more ideas to your licensee. The company may or may not have specific ideas about what to do beyond the initial release (my experience with this has been a mixed bag), but even if they do, share other concepts and presentations with your licensee. You already have their attention, give it all you’ve got!
9. Be prepared that companies will likely give you deadlines that are something along the lines of, “As soon as possible”, or “Yesterday.” My experience is that companies don’t necessarily keep Artists in the loop of impending company deadlines, marketing meetings, etc. I’m not trying to bust on anyone here, just letting it be known that long stretches of time aren’t necessarily granted to Artists. This is not always the case – I have, at times, been given plenty of advance notice for artwork that will be due – but not usually.
10. Consider your licensee your partner - both of you have the same goal, which is to sell your products. This is the bottom line. Yes, you also might want to share inspiring gifts and messages with the world, there is likely a deeper mission behind what you are doing together. But at the end of the day your licensee is running a business, and they need your products to sell in order to keep their business – and your line – going.
I’ve experienced both sides of the spectrum when it comes to designing a product line. Some companies have given me free reign, saying, “Here are the product specs – do whatever you want!” and others have given me product specs and precise instructions as to where what design element should go where, what the PMS colors should be, etc. I’ve enjoyed both for different reasons, which I suppose means I’ve been incredibly fortunate not to have had to create anything I didn’t like. Either way, I don’t lose sight of the fact that my licensees need my best work and my best efforts, because if my line doesn’t sell, the relationship will be over quickly.
As always, go with what feels right in your gut – give in on issues you don’t feel strongly about if necessary and don’t be afraid to stand your ground on something that is important to you.
Before Mighty Comes Small
Like the colorful plastic eggs strewn across a family member’s lawn yesterday, my mind is never without an assortment of creative ideas that make my eyes sparkle with possibility. As someone passionate about details, I love nothing more than to crack them open and explore what the pursuit (and success) of one or the other might look like on a macro level. It is never merely about a final goal or a lofty vision – it is about the little things, the easy-to-go-unnoticed things, and all the things it would take to bring an idea to life.
After I submitted my manuscript at the end of February, I had a pretty hectic period on the personal front – house projects, travel, and, the usual, laundry and what not – which was wrapped up in early April upon my return from a week-long journey in China with my best friend from high school and her family. Since then, activity has continued to hum along at a fairly clipped pace around here, so the fact that my latest deadlines have been for smaller projects has served me well. All along, bigger ideas have continued to take turns trying to inspire me into action, making me feel like a casting director of sorts – sitting quietly in an empty auditorium with a clipboard and pencil, pondering and rating these “auditions.”
Throughout all of this, I’ve continued my informal study of silence in our electronic gadget and social media-overwhelmed culture. After finishing Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other, I am now reading In Pursuit of Silence: Listening for Meaning in a World of Noise. I also attended an Episcopal service in the style of Taize last week with a friend, and will be taking a four-week course he is teaching called Exploring the Idea of Quiet, a study on Proverbs. I have never claimed a specific religion for my spiritual beliefs, but can’t say I am surprised that my quest for a deeper understanding and exploration of my need for quiet is now starting to lead me to more formally sacred spaces.
My deepest practice right now is to enjoy longer, slower exhales – to take my time in that auditorium with all the ideas dancing across the stage beckoning “Pick me! Pick me!” And I say this with a slight chuckle as I ponder the week ahead, which includes a few small house projects, house guests, and two important deadlines. It is hardly a monastic life we lead around here; I am not sitting still in the auditorium as much as I am coming in and out and trying to catch snippets of the performances in between walking the dog, running errands, and taking care of my family. But for the first time in my life, I am letting that be OK instead of trying to pile more “meaningful” work on top of everything.
I know I just wrote about this professional ambling I’ve been enjoying as of late, and there’s a good chance I’ll write about it again. As much as I love encouraging others to pursue their greatest dreams and create their most meaningful lives, I am also feeling compelled to document these quieter needs, and the importance for all of us to honor them. There is so much available to us in life, and so much required of us. Let’s not forget that we also need stillness, and things that are small. The Sequoia trees are mighty, but they all started from a seed, beneath the ground, in a quiet hollow of the earth.
Five Things
Today’s theme ~ books by my peeps!
1. The Repurposed Library: 33 Craft Projects That Give Old Books New Life by Lisa Occhipinti
2. The Artist Unique: Inspiration and Techniques to Discover Your Creative Signature by Carmen Torbus. You can pre-order your copy today, and – P.S. – I’m a proud contributor!
3. Art Saves: Stories, Inspiration and Prompts Sharing the Power of Art by Jenny Doh. Ditto from above!
4. Spinning the Bottle by Maya Stein. I am reading this one now and loving it. And taking her Feral Writing e-course, loving that too.
5. The Right-Brain Business Plan: A Creative, Visual Map for Success by Jennifer Lee.
Studio News
A few updates from my studio in Santa Monica ~
* The next time you’re in Trader Joe’s, take a peek at their greeting card display and see if you can spot these designs ~ two of the newest additions to the Christine Mason Miller licensing collection.
* There’s a lovely little feature at the end of the current issue of Somerset Life featuring a gift I sent to Somerset Editor Christen Olivarez ~ thank you Christen!
* My latest travel-inspired feature is up at Gypsy Girl’s Guide.
* My latest writing-inspired feature is up at the Wish Studio.
* My first round of photos from China are up! Head right here to see a gallery of images from Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, and the Summer Palace. Coming soon: The Great Wall of China!
Five Things
I was doing some research on blended families and step-parenthood this week for a personal project, and came across a couple of good resources I figured might be useful to some of you.
3. The Work of Byron Katie ~ This was recommended by the Blended Families website just mentioned, and it is the second time she has popped up on my personal radar in a month. Hmmmm…
And, unrelated to my blended families research, I offer…
4. Seven Questions Over Breakfast with Melissa Sweet ~ I love this interview with children’s book illustrator Melissa Sweet, whose work I have been swooning over lately.
5. Sarah Ahearn’s new book Painted Pages is now shipping on Amazon! I ordered my copy this week, and I can’t wait to see Sarah’s work, photographed by the uber-talented Thea Coughlin.
Aimless
{Taken in Big Sur last spring}
It is the time of opening, the time of blossoming. The morning air is warmer, the roses are bursting, the smell of jasmine now wraps itself around me in the evenings.
But like a lumbering bear at the turn of the new season, I am waking up slowly, and taking my time to fully step out of my den. I am doing my work quietly, and taking my time to deal with a long list of health-related obligations – a physical, an eye exam, a marathon two-hour acupuncture session to send the last remnants of a cough I’ve had for months out of my body. I’m working with a new yoga instructor to begin to deal with the after-effects of a fractured vertebrae from a years-ago bicycle accident. I am also back at my easel, painting and creating for no particular reason, inspired by China and a set of small deer antlers. I’m writing and brainstorming, daydreaming and imagining, using this time when my calendar has fewer major deadlines than I’ve had in I don’t know how long to simply take my time. With everything.
A lot of projects, situations, and circumstances around our household have finally settled down. We’ve had people working in and around our house since last July, and this work is finally getting wrapped up. Another ongoing story is at last, coming to a close – although I imagine this “ending” is only going to sprout new branches of uncertainty before my first exhale is complete – and I’m back from my travels, home safe and sound, with nary a plane ticket in my docket. It feels quiet around here, and I’m not feeling terribly inspired to disrupt that just yet.
It isn’t an especially comfortable moment for me when I look at my calendar and see so much wide open space, but I know in my gut how important it is I let this be, for at least a little while longer. Because it isn’t as if there aren’t things to do – laundry and dishes and the post office and Tilda and all the other details that comprise the endless cycle of household and marital tasks. Life alone keeps me moving and engaged, and right now I’m letting that be enough movement, and enough engagement.
I spend so much of my time and energy doing, and doing things in a big, outward way, with as much careful attention to detail as I can manage. I’m not one to say, “I’ll get to that dream or idea later.” I tend to dive right in and bust a move. When I refer to the idea of putting something off, or doing something “some day”, I am usually referring to taking a break – resting, doing nothing, allowing myself to wake up each day and see where the wind takes me. But, just like a grand dream or a long-held vision, I have to remember to honor those quieter needs within myself as much as I honor the more visionary needs. I have to learn how to make a commitment to my health that is as solid as the commitment I make to my deadlines. This has always been a challenge for me, and this is why, right now, in this season of bursting forth and popping open, I am taking my time, emerging slowly, and wandering a bit more aimlessly.
“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” ~Annie Dillard,The Writing Life
