A few days ago I received a nice letter from an editor who not only sent me a small check ($30) but also a note which explained: "I'm giving you a raise."
Wow, instead of $25 per feature, I was now going to get $30. If my mathematical and financial prowess is intact, that's a 20% increase for 2010. Not bad. And I'm going to take that extra $5 and buy myself a donut and coffee (what am I saying, I'm getting a vanilla latte!).
Naturally, I was curious about this raise, and why the editor thought I deserved it. I wrote her an email and asked: Why do I deserve this? Me, a guy who gets by on eating hamburger helper or stale white bread and greasy butter as main course? A guy who sends all of his money to a university in Muncie, who drinks tap water at a fancy restaurant while the rest of the family drinks EVIAN? A guy who writes late at night among fast-moving cockroaches and darting mice? A guy who wants nothing more out of life than to love, and to be loved by, his woman? Why honor me with this robust payment when there are so many other starving writers out there who could use the extra fiver?
She wrote back: Don't be so hard on yourself. I can always count on you. You write to the point and you write well. Enjoy the extra bit.
May she be live to be a hundred, this editor. May Zeus grant her more wisdom than the Oracle. May she prosper. And may she accept more of my work.
An extra $5. Not much . . . but the accolade of receiving a raise is payment enough.
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