Reaching out to Readers: Surviving Book Week

 

It’s often the things you don’t expect that ultimately define an experience. When I signed a deal with Walker Books, I anticipated something of the editing process. I imagined with a thrill how it would feel to see my story in print. But I didn’t know what role I would play in promoting the book. Writer or repertory? Crafter or comedian? Read on…

 

Thursday 5 March 2009 was World Book Day in the UK and Ireland, part of a UNESCO initiative aimed at encouraging literacy and fostering a love of reading (note that the actual date varies in different countries). Children across the UK are entitled to a £1 book token (or equivalent €1.50 token in Ireland), which can be exchanged for one of six specially published books or redeemed against any title at participating bookshops. Schools and libraries increasingly use World Book Day as a pivotal signpost in the academic year, centring a string of activities around it, such as book groups, review challenges and – here’s where I come in – author visits. As a result, it can be the busiest time of year for the children’s writer. And because it has become so much more than a day’s worth of fun – World Book Day has morphed into Book Week.

By next Monday I will have participated in 10 events at schools and libraries in the South East. I would have liked to travel further afield – perhaps I shall next year. Some writers visit schools on a regular basis, talking about their books and signing copies for fans. Author visits are one way of generating support for a title, of gradually raising the writer’s profile. For some, fees accrued from events can amount to a second income stream, which is no bad thing in this difficult industry. I couldn’t find a figure for the number of school visits that former Children’s Laureate Jacqueline Wilson is said to have made, but I hear that it is astronomical.

I envy this commitment. My events are more sporadic, clustering around Book Week or a new release – not for want of enthusiasm but for lack of time. Between practising as a lawyer and publishing deadlines, I probably don’t get out enough.

My first significant speaking commitment came soon after release of The Tygrine Cat. I was scheduled to fill the after-dinner slot at the Youth Libraries Group‘s annual conference in September 2007. It was important to make a good impression – librarians are central in the realm of children’s books. Here is a group of adults who are passionate about books for young people, intimately familiar with the market and influential in spotting and creating trends.

I was down to speak at 9pm – worryingly late – and I sensibly eschewed wine during the meal. Still, the clinking of glasses and the general sounds of merriment did nothing to calm my nerves. Neither did the organiser’s whispered instruction that I should ‘crack three jokes in the first few minutes’. He was teasing me, of course, but still I glanced warily at my copy of The Tygrine Cat. Set against a backdrop of brooding tribal war, it’s a fantasy adventure about a lost cat seeking his destiny. While several readers have told me that it made them cry, none have claimed that their sides split with laugher. It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d need to be a stand-up comic!

Somehow I survived the 20 minutes in front of the YLG and received a hospitable round of applause. On returning to my chair, I charged my glass; soon after, I was in the pub with a very jolly group of librarians. Fast forward to October 2008 and I’m launching book two, The Bloodstone Bird, at Sutton Central Library’s Summer Reading Challenge – at the invitation of Rachel Levy, a librarian who looked after me at the YLG conference under her alternative guise as a member of its National Committee. I’ve also spoken at a South East regional meeting of the YLG thanks to Rachel’s supreme organisational skills. As I said, youth librarians are the best.

Talking to young people is an entirely different experience and for me it’s been a real eye opener. I have spoken at inner-city comprehensives, public schools and independents and have come to realise that every class has its own chemistry. Events are never predictable. Last year I ran two identical workshops with 12-year-olds at a village school where the first class worked happily in teams, largely indifferent to the activities of those outside their teams, and the second broke into pack warfare. Each team had a cat character, around whom they were required to work together to develop a story. In the combative class, the cats were perennially fighting each other – I was impressed by the class’s eagerness, if slightly alarmed at their blood-lust!

Of course, things go wrong. Expect leftfield, inappropriate and occasionally inspiring questions. AWOL teachers; AWOL books; AWOL writers (missing on route – yes, this has happened to me…). Events held in bookshops can be even trickier. If it’s a Saturday, wandering shoppers will talk over your spiel or stare, slack-jawed; if it’s a pre-arranged school visit, pray the class will arrive. The key to surviving these events is to relax and enjoy them. How often does a writer have a chance to engage with their audience?

The enthusiasm of young people is contagious. Last Book Week I ran a competition at a Borders bookshop where children were asked to draw the first cat – a character from The Tygrine Cat. Having read the book and learned of the event, a boy called Andrew appeared with a beautiful painting that scooped first prize. Andrew kindly gave me his work and it now adorns the wall of my study. If I lose a sense of my feline characters or question what it’s all about, I need only look up.

Next week  - Finishing What You Started