The Charing Cross reading was a bit more successful than the Banbury Cross one. In that it happened mainly. But also because it was quite packed out. People were standing at the back and apparently other shoppers who didn't know I was going to be there (or who I was) got drawn into the fun. Although some of them left when I started talking about the anal self-penetration section of the book (which will be familiar to regular readers of Warming Up. I wrote about it here some time earlier this year).
I must admit that even though I've done the show so many times, talking about the subject in the middle of a bookshop made me feel a little self-conscious. But gradually I warmed to the occasion and I think most of the assembled people came with me on the journey. I hadn't quite known what to do in preparation, so I'd just chosen a few bits I liked to read out and then thought I would suck it and see (so to speak).
There was something quite satisfying about getting laughs for jokes from the book. That's a joy you don't expect to experience with gags that are written down. The most I thought I could have hoped for was to see someone smirking as they read the thing on the tube. I realise this is quite unlikely.
A part of me was tempted to read the whole thing out and see which jokes got laughs, but I'm not sure they would have stuck with me for that long.
At the end I asked if there were any questions. There was a hiatus reminiscent of those occasions at school when a dull speaker comes in to address you about their boring job and then the assembled kids are asked if they want to ask anything. And everyone looks at the floor, until the swot (me) comes in with an answer that he hopes will impress the teachers. Unfortunately I was unable to ask a question on this occasion. But eventually people chipped in and it went fairly well.
Lots of people bought books too. In fact nearly all the copies in the shop were sold (they only had 50 to start with, but I was still quite pleased).
It's a weird feeling. In a way I've done the work and it's all over, but of course there is a big part of me that would like the thing to be a success. I have no idea if it will sell well. My gut feeling is that people might be scared off by the title. I hope not. I think it's a pretty good read. It would be great if it sold well. Not for financial reasons. It's just a shame to think that after all that hard work the thing might be left languishing in a warehouse, or be pulped to make more copies Of Harry Potter and the Hairy Goblet.
A couple of people had brought copies of the Fist of Fun annual with them for me to sign. Which rather brought these worries into sharp focus.
That was a book I was proud of, that disappeared without trace and far from ending up for 50p in bargain book shops, now sells for inflated prices on internet auction pages (Someone has promised me a copy now, so I should have one soon - hope this entry isn't too much a rehash of the last time I wrote about this. I can't remember what I said).
The fate of the new book hangs in the balance. Doubtless I will know soon enough if it's a success or a failure or just somewhere in between and thus notable only for having killed a few trees.
At least I've sold about 40 copies. Unless some of the people I signed for managed to get away with shoplifting the book at the end.
I don't mind if they did. As long as they read the bloody things. At least it saves them from the dark warehouse and the pulping machine.
Though not from the musty shelves of the charity shop.
