Whoo, here's a new thing: checked my e-mail, and there's one with the subject line 'werewolf story'. Ooh, I thought, that's not spam. Somebody's wanting me to write one. How fab, I have just the thing, ready in my head...
So I opened the e-mail - and uh-uh. It's the other way round, someone's
offering me a werewolf story. And alas, here I sit, barely a publisher at all, certainly not enough of a publisher to be taking on other people's stories; but I really, really hated saying no thanks. Sight unseen. Among all my other stupid ambitions, I actually do want to be a publisher. Or at least an editor. It's a madness, I know, but I want to say yes: send me your stories, your poor, your huddled masses...
[On the other hand, of course, I am enough of a publisher to be selling
Phantoms at the Phil II, a sheerly fantabulous collection of ghost stories in both printed and recorded form, for a mere £12 while stocks last. Hurry hurry: vol one sold out entirely, and vol two seems set fair to do the same...]