You have to be a touch crazy to start a publishing business. But hey, why do any of us do what we do when there seem to be easier ways to earn a living? The baker who starts at four in the morning, the fish and chip shop owners who never lose the smell of fat, the PA to someone who is a complete tosser, the surgeon who, in the words of the song, works where the sun don’t shine. And the publisher.
Each story is different, and for another day. Right now, celebrate all nutty people plus Arachne, especially the estimable Cherry Potts, ever chivvying her authors, including me, to move and entertain us that bit better. Thank you.
I am no naturalist, but I spent a good while the other day watching a slim wall lizard moving about the sun and shade outside our back door. Slim, so probably male, as the females tend to be fat with eggs about now. He caught invisible insects, and munched them. From time to time he paused, raised the front part of his body and took a paw off the ground in, to be honest, an affecting manner. Did he think I might be David Attenborough? Was he listening, smelling or maximising the heat to be gained from the sun. A cute little chap I thought, and named him Lennie.
Uh oh, trouble. Another lizard appeared, fatter and longer than Lennie. No contest. You’ve never seen anything move as fast as my mate once he spotted the intruder. Straight at it, once, twice. Intruder fled. Lennie returned to his predation, his two square metres of territory secure.
Do I draw an analogy between Lennie and Arachne Press? Absolutely none whatsoever. I just thought you might like to hear about Lennie and wish him and Arachne well.