A COWBOY TO ROPE A STEER

I neglected to mention that I will not write another word of this for free. Or rather, not another paragraph. I’ll have to write a word and maybe even a few sentences to give you the lay of the land. I have written a book on this subject and several articles as followup. I have planted a flag and now must point to it. Julia Enterrio, my co-writer on the book that made our names, Ink, Inc.: From Prose to Dough In One Easy Step, put it best in the introduction to the first edition: “Would you ask a doctor to cure a disease for free? A lawyer to litigate for free? A cowboy to rope a steer for free? A member of the demimonde to consort with a gentleman caller for free?” True to her word, Julia required that I pay her out of my own pocket for that paragraph even in advance of receiving an advance from a publisher. “Should I not practice what I preach?” she said. And preaching it was. We neither wrote a single word without receiving some measure of compensation, whether it was our book or attendant materials, from flap copy to press release to academic study questions to interview responses—national magazine or student newspaper, no matter. Julia stood strong in arguments of this stripe with David Firkins, our first kind publisher, and with his successor, Gerald LiPuma, an old man with the luxurious hair of a young one. There was a bit of a burp with Henrietta Lewis, our third publisher, because Julia’s style—half-bullying, half-wheedling, a little tilt of the head, copious eye contact—did not have quite the same effect. She shifted gears into majestic principle. I followed her lead and more than just her lead. For about a year there, in the wake of the second edition, we were private partners as well. I cannot divulge much about that time except to tell you she was ardent. The end of that did not spell the end of this, our writing enterprise, and the third, fourth, and fifth editions followed, each significantly lucrative. The only thing I cannot quite figure, and it is why I must soon end this rare free paragraph, is why she has so much more money to her name than I do. She bought a Jet-Ski and a home gym last month, and also paid for several procedures that shaved away her age but were not so noticeable that anyone would call her out for them. I wilt and melt, staring at a bank balance that is not the equal of hers. Is it time to raise my rates?

©2021 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas