The Book Fayre Masterclass

Despite a severe case of hormone-related bloating (me, not Andy. Andy isn't allowed hormones, not all the while mine are playing up anyway), we set off sharpish this morning to catch the train for our MasterClass at Earl's Court on 'How to Get Published.' We arrive at Charing Cross and Andy takes charge because we are bound for the Devil's Bowels, I mean, the Underground. This means he has to grip my hand (firmly), say 'Follow me, I know where I am going',(firmly) and not stand any malarkey from me like fainting and/or screaming.

I take a deep breath, do as I am told and we arrive at Earl's Court safely without any face slapping or screaming abdab incidents.

'Have we got time for a wee and a tea?' I ask.
'I should think so,' says Andy, maintaining a firm grip on my hand until we are safely across the road away from any London traffic I might decide to scream at for trying to mow me down when the traffic lights are CLEARLY RED.

But no. We have to join the QUEUE FOR REGISTRATION. It is a conference, after all, and these things have to be done properly. Behind us in the queue are two women holding a very loud conversation about their various publishing experiences. The most annoying out of the two (the American, there's a surprise), is speaking noisily about how she used to work in publicity for the Bush administration, which personally, I wouldn't want to advertise to anyone. Thankfully, the queue begins to move just before I reach the point of trans-Atlantic intolerance. (Andy, very wisely, is still hanging onto my hand.)

'I wonder if they'll be serving coffee and biscuits,' says Andy.
I snort. 'You'll be lucky,' I say. 'This is London. You don't get anything free in London. They'd charge you to bury your own Granny in London.'
'I don't have any grannies,' says Andy.
'Neither do I,' I say. 'And we won't get any coffee and biccies either in this mercenary temple of Mammon, not without handing over at least twenty quid.'

Inside, it appears we have been 'pre-registered.' I don't know how this happened. I wasn't aware I'd 'pre-registered' us but it means we can by-pass the queues and go straight to the third floor via a very fast and stomach-churning lift.

I am very good. I don't throw up once.

On the third floor we are greeted by very smiley Book Fayre people who guide us to the free coffee, tea and and mini-pastries. Sigh...

The MasterClass itself is re-assuringly positive. It doesn't really tell me anything I'm not already aware of (on account of the fact I might be an as yet unpublished writer but I AM a meticulous researcher) and one of the authors - Lola Jaye - is very entertaining and sounds like she has experienced the exact frustrations I am experiencing. Kate Mosse, author of Labyrinthe and Sepulchre, is inspiring and passionate and the two chappies - one publisher and one agent - offer practical advice in a simple-to-understand way. The only person I don't like is the guy who had self-published. He seems many things 'self.' Self-absorbed, self- promoting, me, me,me-self. He is also a shameless name-dropper who seems out of his depth and unable to answer questions properly. He also seems to think that if you write a blog, then it won't be long before you are noticed by the press and 'Bob's your Agent,' you'll be published, no probs.

'Hurrah!' I think, though not without a degree of cynicism towards his wild declaration. Still, I am open to offers, acts of Fate and happy coincidences.

After negotiating our way back to Charing Cross, Andy bribing me with the promise of a visit to the M & S food hall for nice sandwiches, crisps and cakes for the train journey home, we arrive home and I now know what I must do.

I must:
1) have confidence in my writing skills because I can write
2) keep writing because the more I write the better I'll get
3) give myself time to be a good writer and enjoy what I am doing without beating myself up about the lack of a three book deal

and 4) have fish and chips for tea because they are BOUND to be a sure fire way to get rid of my bloating. And if they don't, well, if you're already having a fat day, might as well justify it, that's what I say!