Years ago when I was starting out, I was approached by an editor who wanted to include a poster series I created in an upcoming publication he was overseeing. At the time, I was ecstatic. Getting to see my work in print for a potential world-wide audience was (and still is) a big deal and the book itself—a higher end coffee table tome featuring artwork by several well-known figures in the industry—seemed a prestige piece that could only enhance my portfolio and professional reputation. High on the possibility of exposure it could entail, I naively agreed to remuneration of just one copy of the book.
I never received a copy of the book.
After attempting to contact the editor numerous times, I instead shelled out sixty dollars (plus shipping and handling) to add it to my library myself. It led to virtually no further work. No art directors were ringing me up. Its milestone in my career was instead a two-fold lesson learned:
1) compared to the other pieces included, there was no doubt I was still a junior in the industry. I needed to cultivate my style and personal brand.
2) exposure means shit. My work, and time, were still deserving of being compensated fairly.
I recently came across a very similar situation to mine after reading reviews for a book I wanted to order: