This week I received my copy of The Hummingbird Review. I had awaited this particular edition—Volume 2, No. 1—with what can only be described as childish impatience. Now, at long last, the unremarkable manila envelope was waiting in my mailbox. Recognizing the return address, I tore into the pouch as though it were the only thing standing between me and a tray of freshly baked cookies. I took a deep breath and slid the eagerly anticipated journal into my palm.
It was smaller than I expected. But thicker. There are a lot of words in there, I realized. And about 1500 of them are mine.
As of this writing, the issue of THR containing my story, Dolphinarium, is #160,658 on Amazon. Of course, I am not concerned with such matters, which is why I scoured the Internet in an effort to determine exactly how many sales that figure represents. I was impressed to learn, according to one source, that I can reasonably estimate that at least ten copies of this rare and precious paperback are flying off the shelves each and every week.
Meanwhile, as literally dozens of books make their way into the hands of discerning, highly educated, and extremely attractive readers, I have begun the rich journey through the volume that ended up in my mailbox. My little story is swaddled in 156 pages of incredible prose, poetry, and journalism—and I am determined to read each entry, seriatim, from page one onward.
Did you ever eat at one of those restaurants famous for its chocolate souffle, the kind you have to order with your dinner because it takes so long to prepare? I don't care how good the dinner is—how flavorful the soup, how succulent the chicken, how crispy the fries—a little bit of your mind is just marking time until dessert.
Dolphinarium begins on page 150. In case you were wondering.
You should buy The Hummingbird Review. No, really: it's only twelve bucks. And while I'm very proud of Dolphinarium, I can assure you that you'll find that the other 151 pages are filled with memorable characters, revealing portraits, and moving verse at least as deserving of your thoughtful attention.
But if you want to start with the souffle, I'll understand.