Why We Pay Our Authors

There's an unspoken rule in the creative arts industry. It's all fair game until we speak about the money. Then the emails stop. The big, bold and bright ideas of a project come crumbling down when fair compensation is raised.

'Will this be a paid opportunity?' is either met with 'budget restrictions' or, in the delightful but all too rare instance, 'we can afford $X…' leaves time-poor creatives in the thick of chasing money and paid gigs rather than actually building sustainable businesses.

Because that's what each sole trader, author, and storyteller is: a business owner, or more often, a freelancer. Their practice, whatever medium they choose to channel their creativity through, is still worthy of recognition through compensation.

Imagine this. You're an author; you've poured hours of creative energy into your work. It's been through cycles of editing and feedback, balancing revisions while keeping the heart and voice of your story. It's published, on shelves, hand-sold by devoted booksellers. You go on tour, sparking conversations into conversions and hopefully further book sales.

Then you're asked to do a talk, you're probably at this point an expert on each word in your book and can chat ad nauseam about its meaning, your practice and why it deserves a space on bookshelves, libraries and schools across the country.

You've loosely discussed money; it's a given right? You're busy in the thick of book promotion, reediting your next piece of work and falling into the endless cycle of content creation online.

You think to yourself, 'Is a contract really needed for every single appearance you do?'

But then it's not what you think. You're not paid.

It's already too late, you've done the talk. Despite mind-bending abilities in world-building, you cannot go back in time and erase everyone's memory of your words.

You're left feeling defeated. No fight is worth a menial fee, but the principle of being paid for your effort is still a worthy one.

Before you know it, you're back onto the treadmill of writing, creating and fine-tuning your life and finances around the ebbing creative industry.

It can feel like a trap.

There are times when it's necessary for people to generously donate their time volunteering for projects, causes and work they're wholeheartedly passionate about, but draw the line when someone can be paid, they should be.

While also allowing them the right to decline such in-kind work with minimal guilt tripping.

There are countless authors, sometimes your favourite ones, who work a regular non-book-related job to keep their stories being told and their bills paid.

It's really no surprise that the arts are likened to the gig economy; visual artists are in a similar boat to authors. If you don't know what award or rates to be paid, how can it truly be fair compensation?

That's where the Australian Society of Authors (ASA) comes in, the peak body standing behind Australian authors and illustrators in the publishing industry. They tirelessly advocate against the impending wave of AI-stolen content, review contracts, deliver industry-aligned events and provide transparent rates of pay.

We govern ourselves by their well-researched and clearly defined fee structures. Not because it's enforceable, but because we believe in paying authors and all storytellers what they're worth.


Come to any one of our writers' festivals, and you'll find kids sitting on the edge of their seats, hands raised with questions, dancing in the aisles to First Nations music, or rolling around laughing at hilarious stories about being a kidlit author.

You'd think it'd be all about reading and writing, but our programmes are more than just a career pitch for the arts; they're inspiring, they help kids find the right books, keep them engaged, and, most importantly, spark imaginations.

We're clearly doing something right if, after 32 years, we're expanding into more regions and delivering more festivals each year.

There would be no Storyfest without authors, and paying them fairly is the baseline for their involvement. Can we really put a price on kids' literacy?

We can't, but we're starting with benchmarked ASA rates to keep the industry going.