Some of you may remember Clifford Henderson. The one who wrote four lesfic novels then disappeared—whoosh!—seemingly into thin air. At least for you readers—God bless you every one! Well, brace yourself, Clifford Henderson is no more. I fired her.* I had to. Clifford Henderson—I’ll call her Just Clifford—was really too dense for words. Seriously. Full of misconceptions, that one. For instance, Just Clifford thought that the world of an author was a reclusive one, unencumbered by the constant need to thrust oneself into the public eye. Plus, she thought readers would somehow mystically intuit that a writer named Clifford Henderson would be a cool woman named after her renegade grandmother, not some creep-o guy getting his rocks off.
So unlike Clifford Mae Henderson! Who is much more informed about the, shall we call it, endgame of writing a novel: that crazy desire for the novel to be read by many, many people, all of them oohing and ahhing over the beautiful sentences and clever plot. Clifford Mae Henderson understands how disillusioned it is to believe that in this age of everyone knowing everything about everyone, an author can be both a household name and still retain anonymity.
She knows it’s a big old pipe dream to think that authors needn’t lift a finger to sell books, to trust that people will magically find their works on the shelves of libraries and bookstores and on the internet. And she knows all about torrent sites where people pirate books, and big corporate giants that try to cut into the author’s meager profits. Clifford Mae Henderson gets it. She’s much smarter. Humbler, too. And older looking, did I mention that? Mature. She’s grown past the stage where she constantly threatens to quit writing because it’s too hard. She recognizes it for the spiritual path it is, appreciates that every time she sits down to write, she is coming closer to making sense of her nutty self.
Seriously, gang, I’ve learned a lot. Good thing too. Just when you thought I’d fallen off the writer’s wagon, I signed another book deal with Bold Strokes Books, signed it as Clifford Mae Henderson. The novel is called Perfect Little Worlds, and I love it, and feel lucky Bold Strokes Books will have me. I’m one of those writers who’s hard to brand: the only thing my novels have in common is that they win awards and they have lesbians in them. Come to think of it, they all have romance too, just without the classic romance structure. And food. I love to write about food. But mostly, I love to see how many emotional trials I can heap upon my characters and still have them come out okay.
But that’s enough about me. I wanted to let you know I’m back, every third Wednesday of the month, and that I’ve enhanced my name. If you feel like winning a copy of my novel Maye’s Request, (your choice: digital or paperback) you are welcome to guess the two literary figures whose names inspired me. Hint: don’t let the spelling throw you. If more than one person guesses, I will put names in a hat and pick the winner that way.
See you in a month! Over and out.
*Improvisers, rest assured! Clifford Henderson is still running the Fun Institute!