Here at “Name the Pen,” we believe that autho—
Alright, alright. This is not your usual introduction to a publishing house! I built this brick by brick (just like my For You page), stroking the cement carefully so that we can take a look at something different. For now, this company (?) shall be a place in which only I reside. That means: The confusion and ultimate MEGA-frustration I underwent when reaching out to literary agencies, publishers, and poetry magazines was so goddamn paralyzing that I felt nothing but, well, nothing anymore.
Truth is, I don’t want to wait for another two years until my books could hypothetically be published. And that after most likely having endured hours of revision at the hands of editors and lecturers. Noticed the plural? Yeah… Also, commissions in today’s climate are a joke that no one laughs at. Except for capitalism, of course. My works have been ground and ground until I physically couldn’t do so anymore, and you know what? I have decided that these children of mine will now learn how to walk. It’s time. This is it. Side note: I say this as a chronic perfectionist, which must say something.
So, I made a choice. Cannot yet determine whether or not it was the right one, however, I made it. If I learned one thing over the past years that feel like decades, it’s that any decision is better than none—in the realms of legality, please. I… *drum rolls and a cool trumpet solo, please* founded my own publishing house, folks!!!
And I shall bear the actually quite rewarding consequence of my own actions (or rather the fucking lack of it), which is four finished books. That’s what happens when you cannot stop writing but are too afraid of rejection from agents, amongst other creatures of the night. Okay. I choose to believe that everything I do is good and works out. Pessimism might be cozy and, oh, very reliable, but only for so long. ;)
Welcome to my… crib? 👀 HERE YOU CAN ENTER MY HOME AND SEE WHAT I MADE. CLICK ON WHATEVER TITLE YOU FEEL THE MOST CALLED TO AND LEARN ABOUT EACH PIECE:
