Authors on Tour

One of the regular themes writers discuss is isolation. It’s not always a bad thing, but as humans formed to live in community, too much of it is not good for us. I wrote, marketed and launched my first novel in lockdown. I haven’t had the experience that many have, namely meeting actual real-life people in, you know, actual real-life surroundings at book-related events.

So imagine my excitement when Wendy H Jones invited me to the Brechin Book Fest. Leaving the country! Spending time with other writers! Meeting people who may, potentially, buy my book! Skipping with girlish glee isn’t the best look for a well-nourished woman of advancing years, but skip I did. 

I love long train journeys. The overheard snippets of conversation, the new vistas opening up outside the window, the smells, the sounds, the sights. Wendy organised three events in and around Dundee, we booked our tickets, I bought a monocle and a pair of spats[1] and we were off. 

As I pulled a large suitcase out from under the bed, I had no idea how many books to pack. Put it this way, once I’d finished, there was just about enough room for some makeup and underwear. Some writers were able to send their books ahead and arrive at Dundee with merely a small attaché case and a modest backpack. Sarah Grace and I both pitched up at Edinburgh Waverley with immense suitcases packed to the gunwales. 

Meeting up with Tony and Sarah on the strangely inaccessible Platform 20 (I could see it, but I couldn’t get to it), we agreed that our prayers for suitcase angels had been answered. Strong, muscular young men leapt into the fray every time one of us stood by the luggage rack and looked hopefully around. My favourite one had a shaven head with alarming tattoos snaking around his ears and spent most of his journey speaking in idiomatic Russian. God bless him for he truly was a suitcase angel. 

You’ve got to love a hostess who buys a new car in which to transport her guests[2] to an Indian restaurant serving food of spectacular tastiness. We met up with Maressa, her husband and four children and had a splendid time. Dundee is really rather fab. Emerging from the station dragging our huge suitcases (not Tony. He had travelled enviably light) we were confronted with the V&A, the RRS Discovery and the vast shimmering surface of the Tay, the Tay Bridge neatly bisecting it in the distance. Culture was all around. 

On Wednesday, we spent six hours in Costa Coffee in the heart of Dundee and I sold my first book to a complete stranger by the name of Linda Murray. I love you, Linda. On Thursday we took it in turns to have hour-long signing sessions in the Bookhouse in Broughty Ferry. If you’re a DI Shona McKenzie fan, you’ll recognise the setting.

Surely this life can offer nothing more thrilling than sitting in a cosy bookshop with a Dutch person brandishing a Viking helmet with integral ginger beard as your signing mate. Post-signing, I talked said Dutch chum into stopping off for a quick coffee and scone. Except it wasn’t quick because a) the coffee was very hot and I couldn’t drink it straight away and b) much like my heroine, I was seized with the urge to photograph my surroundings and refreshments and post them across my socials.

We had promised to pick Allison up from the station in Dundee and Maressa was becoming increasingly concerned that we’d be late. Life imitating art and all that. We were a tiny bit, but Allison didn’t seem to mind. (Sorry Maressa). 

By this time, Sheila and Heather (Robinson and Flack) had joined the ACW authors on tour and it was wonderful to chat face to face. By Friday, the whole gang was present and we made our way to Wendy’s church in Dundee for more signings where I finally met the lovely Caroline Johnston. 

Saturday and Sunday were kicked off with a Full Scottish at the Northern Hotel in Brechin and jolly good fun they were too. I have never been to an event of this magnitude and to be able to mingle with other authors, chat, sell books and soak up wonderful new knowledge was a heady and intoxicating experience for me. 

If you’re still with me and haven’t nodded off, you might be thinking, “That’s all very well, Ruth, but what the heck did you need spats and a monocle for?” 

The festival ended with several of the authors dressing up as various literary characters and acting them out in front of an invited audience. Isabella M Smugge (easy, I just brandished a bottle of champagne and spoke in a loud, posh voice), Dr Who (long stripey scarf and big hat) and Bertie Wooster. You can see why I needed those props.

Heading home on five trains on Monday, having enjoyed a wonderful six days of fellowship, fun, curry, tattie scones, culture, laughter and experience, I reflected on how fortunate I am to belong to such an inclusive, friendly and generous organisation. It was my first time at such an event, and I hope it won’t be my last. Thanks Wendy for your hospitality and for co-running such a great week.

Ruth is a novelist and freelance writer. She is married with three children, one husband, assorted poultry and a kitten. She is the author of “The Diary of Isabella M Smugge” and “The Trials of Isabella M Smugge”. She writes for a number of small businesses and charities, reviews books for Reading Between the Lines and blogs at ruthleighwrites.co.uk. Ruth has abnormally narrow sinuses and a morbid fear of raw tomatoes, but has decided not to let this get in the way of a meaningful life. You can find her on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter at ruthleighwrites and at her website, www.ruthleighwrites.co.uk.

 

 

---

[1] More of that later

[2] Technically speaking, she was going to buy it anyway, but the timing was spot-on