Regular blog-followers will know after all these years (four, I make it, almost to the day) that I’m not a party girl. I was always much happier tucked away in my office in front of the computer, trying to squeeze an affordable price out of a printing company or writing a press release or (preferably) editing a manuscript than glad-ragging around launch events and book trade bashes schmoozing and networking.
But last night was a little different. I wasn’t required to say the right things to the right people, or cover my gritted teeth with as sweet a smile as I could muster; I was just a guest.
Last night Crème de la Crime 2: The Imprint was presented to the world by Severn House, at a buzzing party at Goldsboro Books’s shiny new premises, and my invitation was just an invitation, not a three-line whip. I didn’t have to hold back on the smoked salmon sandwiches in case they ran out; if I’d wanted to (actually I didn’t) I could have indulged in a glass or three of wine; and most important of all I didn’t have to make a speech.
I chatted to old friends, renewed some old acquaintances, steered clear of one or two people and put some faces to names and voices which have become familiar over the past few months.
The oddest thing was that people kept congratulating me, and I couldn’t quite work out why. If it had been for starting up Crème de la Crime in the first place, discovering a dozen or so great authors and publishing nearly three dozen great books – my natural modesty would have made me demur and disclaim, of course, since what was achieved was mainly down to those great authors; but it would have made a certain amount of sense. Natural modesty aside, I shall always look back on those past seven years with misty-eyed affection and not a little pride.
But that didn’t appear to be what they meant. They seemed to be congratulating me not for creating Creme, but for offloading it! And though I pinned on my sweet smile and said polite thank-yous, I couldn’t help wondering what they thought I’d done.
Banked a six- or maybe seven-figure sum, perhaps? Yeah, right. If that option had been on the table, I’d have snatched someone’s hand off long ago.
Accepted a lucrative ‘consultancy’ post as part of the deal? Um, why would a publisher with 30+ years’ experience need to consult with me on how to do a job he’s clearly more successful at? I counted nine Severn House employees and some people from a high-profile PR agency last night, and probably missed a few; Crème Mark 1 had… me. And we never ran to smoked salmon sandwiches at our book launches.
It was good to be invited, better not to have to sing for my supper, but any small credit I can claim doesn’t involve large sums of money or people asking my advice. From now on, I’m a simple freelance editor with a living to earn. That’s all. Honest.
So – thanks, guys, sentiments much appreciated. But what did I do?
