Today is publication day for my latest short story, Mermaids in the Ballroom, and I am feeling that particular, zingy happiness every author must experience when a character finally steps out into the world. Edith, who came to me on a lonely walk during lockdown, is now tripping her carefree way through the eternal labyrinth of the internet. Let’s face it, writing is hard. Most days I sit and grind it out, a pony pulling on a millstone. Occasionally, I knock out a 1000 words without even trying. And sometimes, rarely, a story is handed to me, like a gift. I unwrap it, and there it is, fully formed. It…