Well, darlings, no one has come knocking down my door to publish my stories, mostly because I’m greatly invisible.
But how is that possible? You ask. We love your writing, Helena. It’s all we talk about all week long with our friends, colleagues, and we even find ourselves chatting to our dog Felix about it, despite the fact that he doesn’t understand English, doesn’t care, and is a cat.
Why thank you, darlings, that’s very kind of you to say, but the fact is, I really haven’t been putting out, and you know what they say — you gotta put out.
And so today I have begun to embark on an attempt to get published — even if it is in small journals or anthologies — in order to draw attention to my body… of work, that is. While I confess that this is not my strength — I would rather just stay in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant (heaven forfend, darlings — I kid, I kid….) cooking up stories all day, it would seem that I have to go out and hock my wares or else they’re all going to go stale — and I can’t just keep eating them all myself, darlings.
So, wish me luck. I’m going to go slowly at first, because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but as I gain confidence, I hope to find at least a bit of success.