I mentioned BJ moments in an earlier blog. I had several yesterday. The first was prompted by an email from a friend and fellow writer, asking if I was OK as I hadn't blogged for a week. Not as good as the publication of a first book but definitely progress. Someone was reading me, pondering my online absence. Needless to say, I reassured my friend, explained about university assignment deadlines. Now that essays and Shakespearean adaptations have been submitted, all I want to do is eat chocolate and sleep. Tomorrow I will get to grips with the flat before it becomes a public health concern. And after that, I will resume work on our final project - 20,000 words of a novel. I'm looking forward to this.
Last night was a repository for BJ moments, the occasion a party to welcome the new writer-in-residence for we creative writing students. An event filled with infinite networking potential, the chance to promote ourselves and our work. Such furtherance, I believe, necessitates one, ideally two, beliefs: firstly, that our writing is strong or nearly strong enough to publicise to professionals such as literary agents and publishers; secondly that we look good enough that such people will enjoy talking to us even if they don't receive the impression our writing is marketable. At this time, I have neither belief.
The intent to lose substantial quantities of weight announced recently and initially pursued with an impressive single-mindedness, has been derailed over the last few days by storylines requiring polish and angst over when to use italics and inverted commas for academic referencing. As for my writing, although my skills have developed since starting the Masters, and I'm learning to think more thoughtfully and expansively about the process, I am only at the stage of knowing what it is I need to do to become a better writer. T.S. Eliot puts it more eloquently than I ever could, in the following:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
(Pursuit of Excellence)
So I appeared at the event wishing I was a tenth of my body weight and had just completed a book I'd die for. The camisole I'd selected was smaller than remembered, and worse still, rolled up every time I moved. This offered me an unenviable choice: to keep tugging it down to cover my less-than-flat stomach, thus revealing excessive amounts of cleavage, or to keep tugging it up to retain the mysteries of my upper anatomy, in the process exposing scandalous quantities of the unmentionable, doubtless putting even partially-sighted guests off their wine and canapés.
To my surprise and pleasure, the people I talked to were pleasant and neither overly-assured or insensitive enough to give the impression that chatting to me was tedious or a waste of their time. One magazine editor even confided that she found such events difficult. Away from her desk, she wasn't endowed with the bucketfuls of confidence I would have expected. I warmed to her, of course. So I mingled and affected a self-esteem that, feedback suggests, merited a BAFTA. Just keep smiling, I told myself, nod enthusiastically.
I was smiling as I journed home, until I realised that in the process of circulating, I'd forgotten to monitor the movement of my shrunken camisole, and wondered if at any stage I'd failed to notice a mass exodus of traumatised people, triggered by an unanticipated view of my midriff.
We'd been groomed ( I used that word in its social context), for such events, of course.
1. We shouldn't get pissed - obvious. The jury is still out on whether or not excessive amounts of alcohol stimulates the creative flow, but slurred speech and swaying aren't ideal behaviours for making a good impression on those who might at some future date agree to read our work, whether or not it was inspired by swigging down a bottle of wine or two.
2. When talking to someone in the writing business, we should be ready to describe the kind of writing we do
3. We should have done our homework on what the agent/publisher represents/publishes
2. If we couldn't - for whatever reason - actually strike up a conversation with a literary god, we should at least ask for a business card.
3. After talking to someone, we should email them the next day to say how much we'd enjoyed meeting them.
In fact there are several people whom I will email to say just that, but it will be sincere. Bridget Jones herself would have been proud of me. I can imagine her expression, the nod of approval. Perhaps I'll drop Helen Fielding a line, ask her to pass on a message.
Optimistically yours
Jane
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