Last Saturday I finally managed to make it to an RNA* Chapter meeting in Birmingham (my friend says, quite rightly, that it sounds like a Hells Angels meeting, because they have ‘chapters’, don’t they – but of course, for a writing organisation, it’s a pretty apt name!).
(*Romantic Novelists’ Association).
And most enjoyable it was, too.
Oh, but firstly, I had to catch the train there. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a country bumpkin these days and catching the train feels very strange!
I managed to arrive at the station in good time BUT when I went to buy my ticket and pay for parking, I was expected to recite my car’s registration number to the man behind the desk. It was like a test and my mind went blank!
I had to run back to the car park, find my car, take a photo of the reg and by the time I got back to the ticket kiosk, I was no longer ‘in good time’ but was verging on ‘late’!
Anyway, it was fine. Trains are lovely, actually, aren’t they? When they work and are on time and you can get a seat.
When I got to the ticket barrier at Moor Street station in Birmingham, every other passenger had their ticket on their phone, of course. And there I was, clutching a little piece of orange cardboard, like a relic from the Dark Ages. I did honestly feel about 105.
The ticket happily went through the slot at the barrier and popped up again, but the little flappy doors didn’t open (this happened on the way out and on the return journey) and the station man had to rescue me and let me through at the side. So I held up all the young and beautiful people, into the bargain. It was shameful.
So, to the RNA meeting: after a delicious lunch, we talked about MARKETING and I picked up lots of tips (note to self: take a look at TikTok/BookTok, learn how to make videos and get some bookmarks made – which is something I’ve been meaning to do for ages and has now been added to the to-do list).
The Library
I’m sure the meeting also inspired my visit to my local library today. I offered them four of my books (as in my actual books, not just four picked at random from my shelves).
‘Four?’ I hear you cry. ‘But you don’t have four!’
Correct, (well-remembered), I only have three but I DO have a large-print version of one of them. And libraries like large-print books!
It wasn’t just a case of handing over the books and being thanked. It turns out libraries have rules for accepting books and they include:
* The books must be less than 2 years old (tick – just about)
* They must be in excellent condition (tick – they are brand new)
* You, the donor, must accept whatever the library decides to do with them, so for example, if they don’t consider them worthy of putting on the shelves, they might SELL THEM! (erm… not sure about that!)
I was starting to feel a bit miffed, I’ll be honest and about to take my precious books away (I suppose, in fairness, they are probably offered all kinds of …erm, dubious books and they have to be selective).
But then, the librarian checked me out on the computer/library system and hallelujah – I actually heard a little cry of delight coming from her office – and I was on there (or at least, my books were) – and suddenly I was a lovely, welcome person and she said they would be ‘delighted’ (her actual word) to accept the books and, by the way, would l like to do an author talk?
I was introduced to the other librarian (on the desk) and made to feel all special and important, so that made me happy.
And actually, donating my books to the library is something (a bit like the bookmarks!) that I’ve been meaning to do for a very long time so it feels good to have finally done it.
Shoes
Look what I bought in Birmingham! From H&M. They are called ‘espadrille trainers’ and aren’t they trendy?
I may be a traditionalist when it comes to train tickets but I am down with the kids when it comes to shoes. Let’s just hope I can walk in them, eh?
Jojo Moyes was wearing something similar when I saw her at Stratford Lit Fest recently. As her last (highly recommended!) book was called ‘Someone Else’s Shoes’ the interviewer was a bit obsessed and kept asking her about her footwear!
Jojo said – of her chunky trainers – ‘men hate them’ and always ask her why she’s got bricks on her feet! But since lockdown, she said, who can be bothered with heels and I do think she’s got a point!