The real point of the London Book Fair
For over a week now, something had been gnawing at me, just this ever so slight feeling that I had missed a trick; that, somewhere along the way, I had forgotten something of import.
And then, a full week after the event, it came to me.
Amidst all the kerfuffle about whether Idle Tom the Publisher was going to be named Britain’s Young Publisher of the Year (sadly not. Again.), I’d forgotten the main reason for him being at the London Book Fair in the first place.
"Tom," I said. "It’s been a week now since you were yet again the bridesmaid in the Young Publisher of the Year stakes -"
"And I’m still gutted."
"Really? I’d have thought you’d have got over it by now?"
"Well Bill - it might not have seemed like a big thing to you, but it was a really big deal for me."
"OK then Tommy, for the fifth time I’d like to express my heartfelt commiserations that you didn’t win the competition, and to also express my fervent hope that, some time in the next decade, you are named Young Publisher of the Year."
"Thanks."
"Now that’s out of the way, I vaguely recall that the London Book Fair wasn’t just about this, er, this magnificent competition of yours -"
"No?"
"I thought you were trying to flog the rights to the book. I thought you’d lined up over 50 meetings with publishers all round the world from America to India. You’d told me that you’d even lined up meetings with about a dozen film companies."
"Did I?"
"Yes you did. So what’s happened? What’s the result? Did you make of these meetings, or did you have to cancel the lot because you were on a bit of a downer?"
"No," he said, mind suddenly clanking through the gears. "No, no! We had the meetings! Lots of meetings! Yeah! I remember! Lucy’s been sending out the book to loads of people!"
"Yeah? So that’s it then?"
"Yeah - that’s it then. We’ve sent out about 50 copies."
"And what happens next?"
"Dunno. Might hear back in a month. Probably not. Might chivvy them on, but it’s not usually worth it - "