The second installment of “International ‘It’s Hard Out Here for a Writer Week’” comes to us from the magazine world.

Another of our freelance writing colleagues accepted a position on staff with a brand new magazine. The pay was excellent, the publisher was established, and everything seemed to be going well. Her only complaint revolved around the reams of nondisclosure forms, waivers and disclaimers that the publisher wanted her to sign. Though contracts can be daunting, she told me that everything was pretty standard until they got to the actual Writer’s Agreement.

According to the agreement the magazine could terminate her contract if she turned in unsatisfactory work, became ill, got injured, missed a deadline, misspelled a word or looked at the publisher funny. (I made up those last two, but the contract did enumerate a long list of sins.)

The problem? There was no language, anywhere in that long, long document, stating that the writer could terminate the contract. This could have, of course, been an oversight. But when my friend pointed it out, the publisher said that the fact that the writer could terminate the contract didn’t need to be written in because it was “understood.” Then he encouraged her to sign anyway because he was pressed for time. Sadly, she signed it. What’s wrong with this picture?

The reason we have contracts is because nothing is understood.

Get it in writing. Get it in an email. Get it on tape. Just get it. Remember the whole horse head scene in the Godfather? That all happened because of a contract. Contracts are important legal documents, and if you’re going to take the time to draw one up, don’t leave something as vital as the end date of the contract in the realm of the “understood.”

Have you come across any crazy contracts in your time? I’d love to hear about them here. And feel free to post anonymously. “International ‘It’s Hard Out Here for a Writer Week’” is open to all comers, but don’t get yourself in trouble by openly discussing legal matters.