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If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my writing career, it’s that rights are very, very important. In the past I’ve done work for hire, where I hand over all ownership of my writing to the publisher. While not the best arrangement for creatives, it can be acceptable as long as you’re okay with receiving a larger lump sum up front and then saying goodbye to having any say about what the publisher does with your writing.

Cover Art by Remi Geoffroi
The best arrangement for any writer is to grant a licence to publisher for the right to print your writing. More and more, publishers are looking to get online rights as well as print rights. Normally, these shouldn’t just be handed away for nothing, but sometimes special deals can be arranged.

This is the situation with my short story, The Blue Fisted Paddle, originally published in Kayak magazine. I really like the story and apparently, so did the Canadian History Society, who publish Kayak. They have just put together furtradestories.ca an entire website devoted to telling, well, the stories of the Canadian fur trade, obviously. And my short story is part of that collection.

I’m usually wary of licencing my stories to 3rd party websites, but this site interested me. It’s basically a storehouse of information about a particular part of Canadian history. It’s clearly designed as a research tool for for students and teachers. That’s a good thing for students and for me as a writer. Having your work used as curriculum material is always an honour.

So, head on over to furtradestories.ca and check out the Blue Fisted Paddle. Here’s a sampler to get you going:

The large hand pulled me from my hiding spot.

“Listening to our conversation, farm boy?” Sebastian gripped my neck and pushed his pockmarked face close to mine.

For weeks, this man had tormented me, and now he had caught me sneaking around like a misbehaving child. His companions, Henri and Josef, were eager to witness another display of Sebastian’s legendary foul temper.

“Your ears are too big, Luc. Tell me what you heard.”

“Nothing,” I lied. To tell these men the truth would mean death. To tell them that I heard their plan to murder Nicolas Perrot, our expedition leader, would end my short time as a coureurs de bois, a runner of the woods.

Read the rest of The Blue Fisted Paddle at furstories.ca.

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