I thought I’d write about an issue that a new writer may not think about: permission.  Let’s say you find the perfect line for your character to quote to her beloved, or there’s a song lyric you have always loved that would be the perfect epigram to your new novel.  Well, think twice before you get your heart set on it.  Everything that is quoted, no matter how old, how much a part of the language it has become, needs to be considered for permission.  Getting that permission is the responsibility of the writer, not the publisher, and that often means not only the paperwork, but also the payment. 

For example, in “Tangled Roots,” John loved the Doors and often had old Doors’ songs roaming through his brain.  It worked well in the text.  But getting permission from the estate of Jim Morrison took some doing.  First, I had to find the song publisher, then they had to ask the estate, then they asked for money which I decided to pay.  The process took a few months.  When I was writing the book, I had no idea that such permission would be necessary, nor that it would take so much to get it.  Maybe I should have known but I didn’t and I bet that there are many new novelists out there who also don’t know.

Now picture the calendar pages fluttering away in the breeze and you find me writing novel number two, “A Clash of Innocents.”  I knew not to use quotations in the text.  Anything that seems like a quotation I actually made up myself,  But there is a wonderful quotation from e.e. cummings’ novel, “Eimi,” that I fell in love with and decided I wanted to use as the epigram to the book.  I tried not to love it, but you know how love is….so this past week I found myself in correspondence with W.W. Norton and Company, the original publishers of the book and the guardian of his estate.  They actually were lovely to deal with.  They have been reasonable, efficient, and surprisingly inexpensive.  So I’ll be able to keep my beloved quote in the front page of the book.  And to be honest, it was quite  a kick receiving emails from them, as you might imagine.  Luckily, not a bad result this time.

At the same time, we at CurvingRoad are beginning preparations for our next production in June, and one of our plays, “Dig,” requires a gun and blood.  Of course, we have to get permission.  So we are now discussing it with the council in which our theatre resides.  How many shots will be used? What sort of gun?  How much blood?  We’ll be granted the permission, I’m sure.  But it is a palaver going through the process of getting it.

So the moral?  Well, the usual one, I suppose.  Do what you want, just be aware of the consequences.