Nov

2

2010

lunch day

Filed under: about me

I’m off to London today, to meet up for lunch with my agent, my editor, and my publicist. This is so spectacularly exciting I was wide awake at 5 am, and would have been anyway even if the Fecklet, who isn’t adjusting well to the time change, hadn’t crawled into bed beside me and hit me in the forehead with his sippy cup.

Writing so often consists of sitting in an unglamorous chair in unglamorous clothes drinking unglamorous cups of tea and writing about the strange things in your imagination. It’s good to have a little bit of glamour every now and then. Agents and editors and publicists go out to lunch all the time, so I’m not sure they 100% know what it’s like for the author. How extraordinary, when your normal day consists of wearing pyjamas for as long as possible and avoiding cleaning that horrible stain in the kitchen, to put on high heels and a nice top and eat something you haven’t made yourself on your Evil Cooker, in the company of intelligent, interesting people who understand the business and who actually want to sell people the books I have written.

Of course, me being me, I’m lying in bed this morning thinking about how, as soon as I walk into the restaurant, people will start pointing and yelling FRAUD! FRAUD!! THIS WOMAN IS NOT AN AUTHOR, SHE DOES NOT BELONG HERE, SHE HAS TOAST CRUMBS AT THE BOTTOM OF HER HANDBAG AND SHE HAS AN UNNATURAL ADDICTION TO TOUCHE ECLAT!!

(Which won’t happen, of course. For one thing, I cleaned all the toast crumbs out of my handbag. I do have a bit of a Touche Eclat monkey though.)

Anyway, I intend to enjoy every minute of it thoroughly. See you tomorrow.

(Once again, people are coming to my blog searching for “nude hippies”. Why??)


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  1. Have fun! I completely get what a thrill it is. So far, I have had dinner with my agent (met her in Frankfurt when she was here for the book fair) and it was such a ridiculous treat for me. I felt like a grown-up, leaving my kids, driving up the motorway and having intelligent discussions about books for three hours.

    One day I hope to lunch with my publisher too!

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  2. Fun, fun, fun.

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  3. No one could think you’re a fraud with that shoe collection. And if anyone questions the cracker crumbs, just tell them it’s a peaceful protest of Lady Gaga’s meat dress.

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  4. Hi Julie
    Yesterday I, too, had lunch with my editor and publicist from headline! You capture the feeling perfectly. Are you going round the corner to the place with the french waiter? I recommend the chocolate truffles. x

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  5. So glam. So gorgeous. You work really hard for stuff like this, savour every second! And melting crumb.

    R
    X

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  6. That sounds fantastic! I’d love to eat something other than blackened toast – and maybe even wear real shoes! I hope you give us a full report on your lunch menu.

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  7. Watch out for the evil cooking lurking at lunch.

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  8. Have a lovely day. I so often expect someone to tap me on the shoulder and politely march me out of the room. I work on the assumption that waiters can see into my soul, and that their lips curl in distaste at what they glimpse.

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  9. Charlotte, it is fun to be a grown-up occasionally, isn’t it? LOL! I was pleased to get out of my pyjamas before ten am.

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  10. Dude. You have a publicist??

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  11. Dude. How cool is that!?!?

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  12. Ehle and Talli, maybe we should make a dress out of blackened toast. That would be both chic and fragrant.

    My menu was as follows:

    To start: whole globe artichoke with hazelnut vinaigrette.
    Main: lamb cutlets with salsa verde and broad bean salad. I also nicked some of my agent’s chips.
    Dessert (shared between five of us): Valhrona chocolate cake with vanilla cream.

    I am still dreaming of that lamb and salsa verde. And the artichoke. Mmmmmmm.

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  13. Julia, I hope you had a brilliant time, chocolate truffles and all!

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  14. Karen, I agreeā€”I too am afraid of the waiters seeing too deep into my soul. Never mind that when I was a waitress, I was always more interested in when I was going to get to sit down and rest my aching feet, than my customers’ souls.

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