BESTSELLERS & BEST FRIENDS
My book publishing blog, with murder mysteries woven through it.
If this is your first visit, be sure to start with “1. Let’s do it!”
___________________________________________________________
I’m in London for a couple of days to see some publishers, catch-up with some colleagues, and to speak at a digital publishing conference.
Sally joined me. We’re staying at our preferred hotel in the Bloomsbury neighborhood. From there it’s a lovely walk to the digital publishing conference at the Queen Elizabeth II Centre near Parliament.
The Montague Queen Elizabeth II Centre
Going through airport security, I lost the small 5-inch comb I always carry in the back pocket of my pants. So on my walk over to the conference, I stopped at a convenience store which only had a longer, 7.5-inch comb. What difference could 2.5 inches make? I bought the comb and slipped it into my back pocket.
Samantha “Sam” Massingham, who organized the conference greeted me. And I met Anna Rafferty who would moderate the event and introduce me.
With 20 minutes until the conference started, I visited with Penguin’s Francesca Dow over a cup of coffee. Years earlier, Francesca listened with keen interest (her American colleagues never did) as I told her all about my having published online our design manager’s book, The Diary of a Wimpy Kid.
Sam continues to be a powerful voice for change in the industry, Anna is a VP with LEGO, and Francesca heads up Penguin Random House children’s in the UK. So yep, this was a remarkable gathering of publishing talent, such smart colleagues to be hanging with. What could possibly go wrong?
The auditorium was filled with several hundred attendees. I sat with Sam at a small table on stage.
Note that my chair had a back, with horizontal supports, like the one pictured here.
Anna stood at a podium, introduced me, and waved me over to the podium to speak. The audience applauded.
I started to stand up, then sat right back down. What the hell? I tried to stand again but couldn’t. The chair was stuck to me. I couldn’t get it off me. This made no sense. Anna again waved me over, concern now on her face. I tried again. But I couldn’t stand without the chair doing the same.
Then Sam saw the problem. The 7.5-inch comb in the back pocket of my pants was stuck on the chair’s back support. Really stuck. The pocket was going to rip, or the comb was going to snap, or I was wearing this chair for the rest of my life.
The conference was paused as Sam, Anna, and a volunteer from the audience removed the chair from my butt.
Yep, that went well.
Tomorrow: Wow, my blog!