All About the Benjamin
November 01, 2006
Every so often here, I've mentioned my editor at St. Martin's Minotaur, Slick Ben Sevier. It was Slick Ben who taught me about Westerns, Burger King, cheap-ass public domain BVDs, Hooter's (blog entry deleted at Slick Ben's request) and Netflix. In short, everything of value American society has produced in the last one-hundred and some-odd years.
So it saddened me no end yesterday when Slick Ben lived up to his name and wriggled right out of my grasp. Ben's moving on. And at first, I thought he was moving down, too...and fast. When he called up to tell me he was leaving Minotaur, I could've sworn he said he was going to work for "Simon's Shoe Store."
"Awww, hell, Ben," I said. "I know bein' an editor has gotta be rough sometimes. Not every writer can be as brilliant and funny as me every time out of the gate. But you shouldn't just chuck it all to sell brogans or boots or spats or whatever. If you'd just apply yourself a little more, I'm sure you could lick this whole editin' thing and really -- "
Slick Ben broke in here to express his confusion with all the eloquence and economy one would expect from a truly top-rail editor.
"Huh?"
"I'm just sayin' -- goin' from St. Martin's Minotaur to Simon's Shoe Store? I know it's your life to live and all...but sweet Jesus, Ben. That ain't livin'. It's cuttin' your own throat with a damn shoe horn."
Slick Ben sighed in a way that seemed both weary and strangely relieved, almost as if he wouldn't miss these little parlays of ours. (Of course, I knew better. Who wouldn't miss me?)
"No, Otto," Slick Ben said. "I'm not going to work at a shoe store. I'm going to Simon & Schuster."
"Oh," I said. "And what is it they do?"
After a few more minutes of leave-taking (during which it was explained to me that Simon & Schuster is, in fact, another publishing house), we finally circled around to the question that had been burning in my brain ever since I'd first heard Slick Ben's news: namely, the ever-popular "But what about me?"
"Does this mean I can skip the editin' from here on in?" I asked. "Cuz, really -- it'd save everybody a whole lot of fuss if Minotaur'd just print what I turn in as is."
Slick Ben sighed that tired/glad sigh again, leavened this time with what I'll describe as a chuckle (though I'll admit it could've just as easily been a scoff).
"You've been assigned to another editor, Otto," he said. "Keith Kahla. I've already warned...uhhh, told him all about you. He'll probably call you later today. Trust me, you're in good hands."
Well, Slick Ben was right about Keith. He did call, and he does seem like a bright fellow indeed. In fact, from now on, he'll be known hereabouts as "Crafty Keith" Kahla.
Crafty as he is, though, ol' Keith has still got him some mighty big shoes to fill. Anyone would. Shoes like Slick Ben's you can't find just anywhere -- even at Simon's Shoe Store.
Otto Amlingmeyer
November 1, 1893
We were disappointed to hear he wouldn't be working for us. Now what are we supposed to do with 50 pairs of size 12 green Converse?
Mister Simon
Simon's Shoestore
Corner of Hocken and Smith
Posted by: Simon | November 01, 2006 at 10:07 PM
As I believe y'all sometimes say in this day and age, "I feel your pain," Mr. Simon. I'm sure Slick Ben could've sold the hell outta them green Converses. (Not that I have any idea what a "green Converse" is. I gotta say, though -- they don't sound pretty.)
Maybe if things don't work out for Ben over at Simon & Schuster, you could still hire him away for your store....
-Big Red
Posted by: Big Red | November 02, 2006 at 10:02 AM