Why Illustrators Aren't Signing Their Copyright Away.

Work For Hire vs Licensing.

Every time I read the words “work for hire,” a small part of me shrivels up inside.

I get it—authors want simplicity. They want to pay for the work, have full control and move on. But if you’re working with a professional illustrator who values their craft and career, you can expect to be signing a license agreement.

I certainly don’t sign over my copyright. Not ever. What I do offer is a license to use my work — structured, limited in scope, and fair to both sides.

Why Copyright Matters.

My mother was a commercial illustrator back in the ‘golden days’. She illustrated for many of the big household names; Thomas the Tank Engine, Care Bears, Enid Blyton—you name it. Huge names. Giant publishers involved. And almost all of her work was work-for-hire. All copyright signed away. Even characters and books she originated. Brilliant books. Do you think she saw a cent if and when those books were turned into product, TV shows, or entire aisles of Toys“R”Us?

Nope. Well, rarely.

She typically received a flat fee, and the world kept turning. She helped create characters kids still love decades later, but had very little to show for it beyond her paycheck. Watching that shaped me. It made me promise myself I’d never sign away the long-term value of my work. That's not to say I haven't made some monumental mistakes in my other contractual agreements. None more so demoralising than a recent collaborative contract I entered into just last year — my next blog will dive into the thick of that. But I can promise you this: it's embarrassing, and it cost me a lot. My advice, is to learn from those making those mistakes; those willing to share how it went so very wrong. And to go through your contracts with a fine toothcomb. Don't leave it to chance. And don't be bullied or pressured by someone who's looking to offer as little professional accountability as they can. Even if the deal looks worth all the inconvenience of a difficult collaborator and a rigid agreement in their favor. Stay grounded in reality, without losing yourself to the potential you see in it.

What even is Licensing?

A license is just a legal agreement that outlines how someone can use a piece of creative work without owning it outright. It sets boundaries—where, when, and in what formats the work can be used, while making it clear that the original creator still holds the rights. Think of it like renting an apartment: you get to live in it, benefit from it, maybe even renovate it (with permission), but you don’t get to sell it, bulldoze it, or pretend you built it. That’s the kind of deal we’re talking about.

Licensing protects both sides. It stops the “grey area” disasters where people assume ownership they never had, and it ensures that if the project blows up, the illustrator doesn’t get left behind in the dust.

So. You want to use my work in a book? Great. I love what I do. But it's not easy, and I own my copyright. Always. I'll include a license that covers your book's print runs, eBooks, maybe some merch and definitely your marketing. You want to adapt it for a TV animation? That’s a separate conversation. If the book goes viral and starts pulling in serious revenue? Then we revisit the terms, because that’s the fairest and most balanced way to do business. My agreement states that once a certain threshold is reached (a number way above anything a typical indie author will normally reach in their lifetime sales) we revisit the license.

This Isn’t About Ego—It’s About Equity

Creative work is labor. It's intensive, too. If we treat it like a disposable good, we’re devaluing the very thing that makes books wonderful and magical and escape for many. I’m not interested in shortchanging myself, (I've made that mistake) and I’m definitely not interested in working with people who want to treat illustrators like ghostwriters with a paintbrush. So I've tuned my clauses to reflect that. Don't leave your future up to a contract template you found on the net, or someone shared with you from the author communities. They're great as scaffolding, but they seldom offer the detail we creatives need to really protect our future. So know what you're signing.

If you’re holding a book in your hands and falling in love with it—it’s probably because the art brought it to life. Not always the case. The Velvetine Rabbit is probably my favourite story of all time, and the illustrations weren't really my jam. Not bad by any means, but not what I was invested in. These exceptions are rare for me. I usually fall for the art, and I don't think I'm alone in that. I don't need words for Winnie The Pooh, Shepard manages to say it all with paint alone.

I'll leave you with this: the story of the saxophone player who wrote the opening lick to “Baker Street.” Raphael Ravenscroft sold the rights outright—for around fifty bucks. And never earned another dime from it; one of the most iconic sax solos in music history.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fo6aKnRnBxM&themeRefresh=1