How much time do you need to put into publicizing your writing in order to be effective? The short answer is: who knows? The long answer:

My father hated forsythia. He thought it was messy. One spring, when my mother was out, he enlisted the help of one of my brothers, and they dug up three forsythia in front of the house. By the time my mother got back, the damage was done, and the evidence was in the trash can. He didn't dare to tackle the rambling rose, which was actually much messier, but was able to defend itself.

Nine years ago, shortly after moving into a new house, I imagined the magnificent spring display of a hedge of forsythia. We bought a scrawny bunch of plants, marked down because they had already produced whatever meager flowering they'd have that year, and planted them in a line along one border.

Every year they'd grow a little more, though far from my imagined spring explosion of yellow. Then three years ago Setpember, the guy we hired to do some pruning ran amok. Either he misunderstood me when I said, "Don't touch the forsythia," or he hated it as much my father had, and couldn't help himself. By the time I realized what he was doing, the fellow had mercilessly hacked away at four of them. At my insistence, he begrudgingly stopped disfiguring them, though I could tell from the look on his face that he thought I was nuts.

This year, they were back, big time, blazing against a background of still-bare trees.

So -- how to publicize.

Starting small is okay.
Little by little can have great results.
Sometimes the flowering of your work will not be apparent; be patient.
Be persistent.
Sometimes others may try to tear down your work; deter them from doing so.
Don't worry about being messy; life's messy.
Keep going.
It doesn't hurt to keep planting.
Keep your mind fixed on working toward what you want, but don't forget to enjoy what you have.