Blogogna

The last couple of years I've spent the four days of the Bologna Book Fair angrily refreshing my twitter feed and wishing I was there tweeting about coffee and gelato and the Book of the Fair.

This year I went to Bologna. Unfortunately my phone and I had different ideas about the whole tweeting thing and I lost - ergo no tweets. Stupid phone.

But the point of going wasn't to just wander around and tweet about the fair, it was to experience it. It was a lovely thing to do, mainlining espresso and looking at all the lovely books other publishers are putting out there, perusing illustrators' wares, judging books by their covers and meeting up with people I don't see nearly often enough.

And then there was the shopping. I don't mean shoes and bags (no time for that), I mean shopping for NEW BOOKS! As I don't sell the rights to books (we have the wonderful Caroline Hill-Trevor on the case) I can focus on meeting up with agents and talking to them about what I'm looking for and what they have on their list.

The way 31-year-old Non feels about books is remarkably similar to the way 14-year-old Non felt about boys:

14-y-o Non: Fancied lots of boys. Some of them were taken. Some of them were out of her league.

31-y-o Non: Fancies lots of books. Some of them are taken. Some of them are out of my league.

14-y-o Non: Thought she had a type (bleached blonde hair with the roots growing through and piercings). Actually, she had many (she liked funny boys, clever boys, boys with dark hair, boys who were on the older end of the spectrum, boys who were closer to her own age, boys who had bad clothes but lots of potential)

31-y-o Non: Knows I have a type (something that makes me cry). Actually, I have many (I like funny books, clever books, books with dark themes, books for older readers, books which are closer to my own mental age of 3+, books which have bad titles but lots of potential)

14-y-o Non: Used to pester her mates who actually knew some boys to tell her about them. Were there any that they thought she'd like?

31-y-o Non: I consult professional agents who actually know some books to tell me about them. Are there any they think I'd like?

14-y-o Non: Would create elaborate fantasies about the boys she heard about - painted pictures with others' words and fell in love before she even spoke to the boy in question.

31-y-o Non: Creates elaborate fantasies about the books I hear about - briefing imagined covers with others' words and falling in love before I even read the book in question.

14-y-o Non: Suffered a lot of disappointment. And then fell in love with a wholly suitable boy, who lived up to his promise.

31-y-o Non: I am happy to suffer disappointment, because I am confident that I am about to fall in love with a wholly suitable book, which will live up to its promise.

Actually, I suspect I may fall in love with quite a few...

Sick bed bother

Argh! Last week wasn’t the smoothest ever – the weekend led in with a sick Catnipper, then family visits meant I took a couple of days holiday with a return to work that perfectly co-incided with me catching whatever terrifyingly virulent flu-bug the Catnipper had just recovered from.

You may have noticed that this added up to a week of almost no tweeting and absolutely no blogging. But the upshot of me taking holiday and getting sick isn’t just a quiet patch on the social media front. It’s a hiatus of all things Catnip.

As Catnip’s only employee I have an amazing amount of freedom and responsibility (I don’t think you really get one without the other). Most of what I love about my job arises from this freedom, but the downside is that because it’s about how much work I put in to keep things running, if something gets in the way of me doing my job, then there’s no one else there to fill in.

So this means there’s no one to do simple things like…

• Change my Out of Office to say that I’m DYING of flu
• Answer the phone
• Send polite apologies to people who are chasing me for something I said I’d get done that week
• Find those uber-urgent files needed for a key presentation TOMORROW
• Tell a poor author that OF COURSE I can have a chat with them next week
• Reply to an agent saying I’ll read that submission/approve those terms/sign that contract as soon as I can see straight
• Chase a printer on books that were due to be delivered YESTERDAY

Basically, there’s no one there to be polite or to fire-fight and by the time I’m back at the desk, people are starting to get annoyed/let down by my radio silence.

At least here I can say I’m sorry that I missed y’all and that I wished I’d not had such a stupidly rubbish week that my weekend was too busy for me to check in to the rather awesome ABBA lit fest… or write any proper blog posts.

Now, there are some emails with my name on (and a red exclamation mark).

Pitch perfect

Book fairs are a lot like speed dates between editors and agents: you have thirty minutes face time to impress 3-2-1 GO! (There isn’t actually a buzzer at the end – but I would like to state for the record that there really should be, I’m sure it would facilitate better time keeping.)

You’ve really got to make these meetings at London or Bologna count since they may be your only opportunity to actually see the people with whom you hope to build a lasting (professional) relationship. At each appointment, you've got to strike a balance between talking about yourself and listening to the person(s) opposite.

Sometimes I get frustrated at the sound of my own voice telling people how many books we publish; what kind (reissues, buy-ins, one picture book, one YA and everything else in between); what I’m looking for. Then I remind myself that it's extremely important to give agents an idea of my tastes, my passions, my editorial proclivities. If I don't give them a clear impression of who I am as an editor, how can I expect them to send me the right kind of material?

So then it’s time for me to listen. As I do so, I’m thinking one thing:

Am I really in the market for this project?

Sometimes I stop a pitch before it gets going. I would never want to appear rude but since there’s only me at Catnip, if I don’t think something will fit, then there’s no one to disagree with me further down the line when the submission is sent over. Agents are busy people and I don’t want to waste their time chasing me in three months time for an answer I can give now.

Obviously if there’s even the slightest chance of a ‘yes’ to my question I’ll ask to see the submission. (Reviewing my meeting notes I see that I won’t have much time for sleeping over the next few months...)

But it's important to remember that although fairs are exciting and pitches might promise the world, it’s the writing that’ll deliver it. And I won't get to see that until I actually open the document.

Right, my thirty minutes is up. Time to move on to the next blog post.