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Shaking hands with Tracey EminUpdate - April 2003 Well, where do I start? The last few weeks have been such an exciting blur, and I now feel justified in describing myself as a writer. Beholden is published and in the bookshops and people are starting to tell me that they've actually read it. I have to admit that seeing my book on the bookshop shelves for the first time gave me an enormous kick. I went in with a friend and we stood there admiring the book - its gorgeous cover, its glossy newness, its entire bookishness. My friend appeared to be overcome by a temporary form of insanity - he rushed up to a random stranger browsing nearby, causing her to give a start, and told her excitedly that I was an author and she really should buy my wonderful wonderful book. The stranger recovered her nerves, looked from my wild-eyed friend to blushing me, gave a weak sort of a smile and edged away from us, looking very worried indeed. On the day the book actually came out, my publicist (a lovely guy, it has to be said) came up from London and we toured the bookshops, signing stock. A strange moment for me, signing my first ever book - standing there in the middle of the bookshop with a pen in my hand, I felt like the worst kind of book vandal going. That feeling quickly passed, though, and now, two months on, I can sign books like the pro that I am. It's been a time of firsts. My first newspaper interview (with the Nottingham Evening Post, who wrote a wonderful article), my first radio interview (with BBC Radio Nottingham, which I think went well, although as I didn't tell anyone I was being interviewed I have no independent confirmation of that) and my first reviews, which delighted me. It's quite disconcerting to read about my own book and see it through someone else's eyes - but that's something I'm starting to get used to as people give me feedback on what they made of the book. I also did my first bookshop event, at Heffers in Cambridge. An evening for first-time crime authors, called, appropriately enough, First Blood. I was surprisingly calm about it, and actually enjoyed the event. It's surprising how quickly you can become accustomed to talking about your book and acting as if you're taking the whole 'being published' thing in your stride. It was good to meet other crime authors, too, and hear their insights into their own writing. I've been doing a number of things with my two fellow local writers, Stephan Collishaw and Jon McGregor. It's actually a great comfort being in contact with two other people at a similar stage in their career. Their books are both wonderful - I urge everyone to go out and buy them, immediately (after buying my book, of course!). Stephan's book, The Last Girl, is set in Vilnius (that's in Lithuania, in case you're unsure) and explores issues of guilt and love and other grown-up things. Jon's book, If Nobody Speak of Remarkable Things, is set on a street in an unnamed northern town on one day at the end of summer, building up to a 'shocking event'. We organised a joint launch party, supported by all three publishers, the County Council and Waterstone's, to celebrate first publication for me and Stephan, and paperback publication for Jon. The great and the good from the East Midlands literary scene put in an appearance, along with all our rowdy mates, and a very nice time was had by all. I swear I even spotted a few poets grooving on down to a nice bit of ska by the end of the evening, which seems a distinctly un-poetic way to behave. The three of us are organising some reading events together, too - details of those events, and others, can be found in my sparkling new Diary section on this website (filed under 'Updates' - in fact, you probably stumbled over it to reach this update). If you're nearby, why not come along? Stephan's book being set in Lithuania, he had a launch party at the Lithuanian Embassy in London a couple of weeks ago. A very enjoyable evening. I must confess, one reason for going (apart from to support Stephan) was sheer curiosity at what the inside of an embassy would look like, and whether an ambassador would look different to any other human being - godlike, or diplomatic, or something. And I can now reveal that this particular embassy is basically a house. No security gates, no shifty-looking soldiers, nobody demanding to see my identification before allowing me in. I just opened the front door and went in, and was immediately offered a glass of wine. The ambassador looked like a normal man in a suit, too, although I never actually spoke to him - what do you say to the Lithuanian ambassador? And everybody commented that they were disappointed at the lack of Ferrero Rocher pyramids being carried round on silver trays, a joke that appeared to be lost on the Lithuanians themselves. I met some very interesting people as I networked my way around the room, and finally, I even met a genuine Famous Person. Tracey Emin was there. I was deeply impressed by this, and really wanted to meet her. Of course, by the time I did actually meet her, I had had a few glasses of wine and didn't know what to say. So we shook hands and I said, "Nice to meet you," and she said, "And you," and that was it. I can't help feeling that it was distinctly un-BritArt. It makes me suspect that maybe I have a long way to go before I can truly say I've got the hang of this strange new life I've stumbled into. |
