Being at the Frankfurt Book Fair 2018
The first thing I did when I arrived at my hotel in Frankfurt – there was no need to stay longer than three nights, and two nights would have been enough – was find out where to eat. The hotel staff told me there was a restaurant ten minutes’ walk away, and they could order from its menu for me – copies of which they produced – and of course, they would be delighted to have it delivered to my room. So I made the most of a bit of down time, surfing the satellite channels on the TV, quietly amused that I can watch UK channels that I can’t get at home. (Too late, I realised that the satellite dish that used to sit against a nearby external wall of our flat was not merely decorative.)
Up early the next morning, I dressed very casually for breakfast – I won’t tell you what I was wearing beneath my cover-all fleece – and found plenty to choose from, even for a near-vegan-who-has-issues-with-sugar like me. Grateful that the odours of a full cooked option of bacon, sausage, eggs etc etc would not cling to my newly washed hair, I ate a modest breakfast, which the following morning I would bulk up a bit more – walking certainly takes energy – and got a taxi to the fair, which I shared by chance with two ‘proper’ businessmen from Saudi. (And no, I did not initiate a discussion with them about the alleged assassination of a Saudi journalist in the Saudi consulate in Istanbul, though, actually, given the nature of book fairs, and the realisation that these forums are bound to raise questions about journalistic freedom and the dangers of the Trump effect, perhaps I should have…)
Arriving soon at the main entrance to the fair, I was very courteously kitted out with a badge (and my baggage was not once checked, for which I am grateful) and immediately swallowed up in the excited realisation that I was wandering in among thousands of people, all intent on their business, while I simply marvelled: at the scale of the organisation – and please, let us here resist any allusions to ‘Germanic efficiency’ – the pleasant venue, and the amazing weather: balmy, warm temperatures, blue skies and lots of room to roam… which I did, for the best part of two-and-a-half days, marvelling at my freedom, beyond impressed by being there.
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October 29, 2018
Why did I go?
Fran Macilvey Fran's School of Hard Knocks, Path To Publication 4 Comments
Why did I go?
Beyond nurturing a few wild – and frankly, totally unrealistic – hopes and dreams, why did I go to the Frankfurt Book Fair this year? I promised, last year, that I would not go again, and have renewed that promise following my visit in 2018. But my mother knows me better… Now, perhaps I should just say, We shall see…
But beyond witnessing the sheer scale of the event, what conceivable reason would I have for bothering? Why not just stay at home, put my feet up and have a well-earned rest?
Firstly, planning to go to Frankfurt, making the effort and paying for it all, I have been forced to take my work seriously, and work hard to present it, effectively and in such a way that someone else might actually enjoy reading it. The focus of having a fair to work towards has been essential, to force me to write, get organised and plan efficiently. Without that discipline, I would probably still be dreaming about finishing Book 1 in my fiction series. As it is, I have finished Book 2 and am now well on the way with Book 3 which I hope to have completed as a full working draft by the time the London Book Fair 2019 rolls around in March. Going to book fairs is, I realise, my work equivalent of a business deadline or a demanding boss, which I need to give my work focus and clarity.
Secondly, I am forced to deal with people in what is in other circumstances a fairly isolated and lonely occupation. I am forced to make myself understood, to ask for what I want and to explain my reasons to doing what I do, to a bunch of otherwise fairly hard-headed individuals. All of which helps to thrash out my real motivations, and to hone my self-belief. Belief is the mother of reality.
Thirdly, there are times when I really need a rest, and if going to Frankfurt will allow me time off to get away from the hamster-wheel of my life – which, I fully admit, it is up to me to make more exciting – then it’s worth doing. I come home and immediately my appreciation for the comforts and companionship of the joys of home also gets a welcome boost. Sometimes a thing is too close to see properly. Perhaps, three days of almost total silence in the midst of a veritable hive of activity – as strange and at times unsettling contradiction – is useful to remind me what matters.
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