Last week I received an acceptance letter in the mail . . . a rather formal note from an editor who was passing along the good news that she was accepting one of my articles for publication. I yelled, "Whoopie" and then pocketed my twenty-five dollar check, which I intended to cash later in the day so I could buy lunch for a friend. (Heck, what else you can you do with twenty-five dollars anyway?)
But I did happen to notice that at the bottom of the letter the editor had also included a handwritten line: "I really like your stuff . . . I need to see more from you!"
Wow, and this from another woman!
Later, I showed this to my wife and asked, "Do you think I should call her and see what she has in mind? I mean, it's not every writer who gets an invitation to earn another twenty-five dollars by performing."
"Don't flatter yourself," Becky said. "It's just a lousy twenty-five bucks, which is the story of your writing life. Think of all you'd have to do just to earn a hundred dollars."
"I can stand on my head," I said. "And you know about some of my other tricks."
"Yeah, I've seen 'em"," she said. "Believe me, she won't even pay twenty-five dollars for one of your standard performances."
"I'll improvise."
"Just get in there and type," Becky said. "That's the best chance you've got of earning enough money to rotate the tires. And don't bother me any more, you weirdo. I've got papers to grade."
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