No blogs for months and then two in a week, the agent will be pleased…

I’m currently on deadline, consequently, I’m doing anything but meeting them. It’s been a busy week or so, I’ve signed off on the final book proof and never want to see another copy of CCMS as long as I live (or early January when I get finished copies). Things came to a pleasant head – sounds dirty, isn’t – last Thursday when I went to Random House to pick up thirty copies of the advanced bound proof. I’d always wanted one ever since I was given a Cormac McCarthy proof when I was a producer at BBC GLR (now BBC London, that was where I met Richard Ford too, but that’s a story for another time). Seeing my own press release (with an excerpt and some very personal notes on) and my name in print made me feel fuzzy and odd. I hate to sound like a boy band lyric, but it’s truly fucked up when you’re dreams come true – N’Sync sang it, you can get it on iTunes. It’s the closest I’ll come to my literary heroes so in keeping with tradition I went out and got drunk. Things got a little hazy after that, but I do remember getting home and attempting to sign a book (I was excited, let me be!), I made such a mess of it that it looked like a crime scene if the victim’s blood had been black. I’ve quietly filed that copy away and it’ll be mine forever.

Other advance copies are now out in the big wide world, my friend at Shortlist and Stylist (who currently has swine flu, true story) called to tell me that her book had arrived and I felt strangely saddened to hear that something that had been mine for so long was now out of reach and that other people could see it. I’m not sure what I thought Jonathan Cape were going to do with the manuscript, but I imagined a a glittering, giant safe where they locked the brightest and the best away. So now the press have it, my friends have it – worse in its own way – and there’s nothing I can do about it but wait.

But let’s not get all weepy. Waterstone’s called or wrote or sent a pigeon or whatever it is that Waterstone’s do when they come down off their literary mount and speak to people at the office to say that they wanted to promote the book front of house and in their 3 for 2 promotion in all of their stores nationwide. Apparently, this is quite the big deal. The staff at Random House put on paper hats and sent me a photo of them all holding their thumbs aloft like a hundred young Paul McCartneys. I’ve framed it and I’m looking at it now as I write; it looks like the saddest Christmas party I’ve ever seen. That aside, I went to see Jupitus in Hairspray, he was a fucking revelation. I kid you not, I was both tumescent and weepy, we drank coffee later and got a little emotional over the fact that we’d both done exactly what we set out to do at the end of our torrid time at 6 Music. Not that it was torrid all the time, but that last year was about as much fun as having a nail pushed through your tongue, unless you like that sort of thing, we don’t. Anyway, I have some downtime now, book wise at least, so this week I’ll interview Andy Serkis about playing Ian Dury and then on Saturday I’m off to watch Wales play the All Blacks in Cardiff with the Manics. I know, very tough life. More news soon, maybe even some about the Perfect Ten…


One comment on “No blogs for months and then two in a week, the agent will be pleased…

  1. sarah says:

    Stylist and Shortlist? Ms Bradly, I presume. Love the book’s cover.

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