These days they often put out-takes in the end credits of movies. My last ever CHERUB novel is published this June and to celebrate the end of the series, here are six of my worst author moments.
1. Don’t wear a grey shirt on the hottest day of the year
After years of trying to publish my first book, I finally found myself with a firm offer from a publisher, but they wanted to meet me first. It was a big deal and I had driving test/job interview style nerves.
I took a glass elevator to the 16th floor on one of the hottest days of the year. The reception looked rather impressive, but the building’s entire cooling system seemed to be powered by a handheld fan running on AA batteries.
As I waited in reception, I began to sweat. By the time of my appointment, I’m was mildly moist. But publishing people tend to run late and by the time my prospective new editor and her colleagues arrived, I’d been sat in a hot glass box for almost an hour. The grey shirt was stuck to the seat and I had a dinner-plate-sized pit stain under each arm…
2. Don’t get hammered at award ceremonies
They published my book and I got shortlisted for an award. At the ceremony I did my first ever book signing, chatting to a dozen or so fans, but feeling rather inadequate because Jacqueline Wilson was at the next table getting mobbed by eight billion tween girls.
I had a few drinks to take the edge off. There was more booze over lunch, and the librarian sitting next to me was teetotal, so I generously offered to swap her wine for my fizzy water. As I returned from my third pee, someone took me aside and told me they were about to announce that I’d won the award.
There were children on stage, and I slurred my improvised speech, while trying to balance my trophy on a small boy’s head. Then I tripped over a cardboard cut-out of Christopher Paolini while sprinting back to the toilet. After that, it’s all a blur.
3. Australia and New Zealand are different countries
Obviously I don’t write a new talk every time I make a speech. After twelve exciting days travelling all over Australia, talking at book festivals and schools, I arrived in Christchurch New Zealand and began my well-practiced speech with, “It’s so great being here in Australia.”
It’s the biggest boo I ever got. Though to be fair, I signed a personal best 2,400 books after that talk, so they clearly forgave me.
4. Never use the wrong mug in a school staff room
After an interesting morning talking to groups of kids in a London school, we went to the staff room for morning break. It was standing room only, and I was halfway through a cuppa when a bossy woman stormed up to me, screaming, “I’m the deputy head and you’re using my mug.”
After apologising, and explaining that I was a guest and that the school librarian had made me a cup of tea, the deputy head stood with her hands on her hips, screaming at the librarian about respect for personal property.
Once my tea was finished, I hid the deputy head from hell’s mug on top of a high cistern in the male staff toilet.
5. Some publishers like to feed you raw horse meat
One of the best bits of being an author is seeing your books translated. If you work in Burger King, nobody ever pays you extra for the burger you flipped five years ago. But as an author, every now and then an email pops up in your inbox saying, “We’ve sold that book you wrote back in 2008 to be translated into Norwegian. Here’s some £££s for doing no extra work.”
If your books are successful in translation, you might even get invited to some of these countries to do press interviews or book signings. During a dinner on one of these trips I found myself scoffing some rather delicious meat.
“This is fab,” I noted. “But I’m not sure what it is.”
Eyes swiveled towards me, and I was rather sheepishly told that it was Horse Carpaccio – thinly sliced raw horse meat. I briefly considered being all British and spitting it out in horror, but I figured it wasn’t much different to eating a cow or a chicken and showed my mettle by clearing the plate.
6. Finally, try not to make your fans cry
One of the nicest things about writing for kids is that fans are often wildly excited to meet you. As one boy enthused about my latest book, I tried bringing his painfully shy companion into the conversation.
“You two look alike, you must be Joe’s sister. Do you read my books too?”
“Yes I do, but I’m his brother,” the poor kid said, before bursting into tears.
New Guard, the 17th and final CHERUB (Hodder Children’s Books) is out now. Buy it at the Guardian bookshop.
