A week of charming and cajoling

This week has definitely been a week of hustling. Also, a week of trying and failing to use a word other than hustling to describe what I’m currently fully engaged in: pressing copies of the book into the hands of people who may or may not do anything with it; meeting booksellers in the hope that they might take any remaining copies; frantically scrambling around for more ideas to make myself, and it, the white label, more visible. 

Tuesday, was a busy day. I met an old friend I hadn’t seen for fifteen years. During that time she’s published four books, three of which have been adapted for TV. We yacked for over two hours about family, writing, writers, agents and publicists. It was really motivating to hear her stories from the trenches although the picture she painted was more Guernica than Déjeuner Sur L’herbe. 

In the afternoon I was interviewed for a podcast. This podcast. I feel a bit weird writing that. Like I’ve wondered into a stranger’s house, somewhere I shouldn’t be. Also, like something’s not quite right with the world, Eckels returning home in “A Sound of Thunder”. But Dan was intrigued by my idea of a white label and got me on his show to talk about it, so I’m not complaining. It feels odd nonetheless. I prepped for days and still, I’m sure, ended up talking like a dickhead. I think I said hustle forty five times. What an idiot. We’ll soon see. It’s due to be released on Friday.

Then in the evening, I attended a talk hosted by Whitefox Publishing to coincide with the launch of Emma Gannon’s new memoir, A Year of Nothing, an account of her burnout. (Image credit Hannah Twigg).

Emma’s chat with Molly Flatt was more about new publishing models: the mechanics of the book’s existence rather than the experience the book depicted. I’ll let her explain, she does it better than me. It was a bit less Guernica and even more motivating. 

Thursday, I stumbled across - or was algorithmed, more like - Leah McClaren’s piece on the Lily Allen story. More precisely, it was about what will happen to the house (spoiler alert: it’s for sale). When I first heard of the Allen/Harbour shenanigans I confess my first thought was also the house, that house, thanks to the AD Cribs video that I was also algorithmed a couple of years back.

McLaren draws a parallel with what she calls the house-beautiful virus in London which, she says, seems to grow in tandem with the societal misery surrounding us. “What divorce forces you to acknowledge is that your perfect house won’t save you.” It reminded me of a line from Sarah Winman’s Still Life. 

Is this why I’ve spent most my life obsessed with design in general, not just decor? Have I been miserable all that time? I decide not to dwell on it. 

Friday, I went to doorstep a bookshop owner. She looked a little freaked out. I suspect my own nervousness had infected her and she played it right back to me. “Is it a novel?” She flicked repeatedly through the pages like it was a flip book, too fast to read anything. She handed it back. “Sorry, it’s not for us.” 

I returned home and decided I needed to create something beautiful. I woke on Saturday with the idea to build a coffee table from the pallet the books came on. I need a coffee table. I got my tools out, started sawing. On Sunday, I abandoned it. Not beautiful enough.

Next week: the podcast; dealing with being ignored; possibly a party.