Book Launch, Mary Rose-style
As the release of Chip’s ‘magnum opus’ is beset by snag after snag, are there any positives to salvage? Or will it end up a ‘magnum o’ piss’?
To see how Sam Pepys spent this month 364 years ago, follow this link.
One of my most embarrassing childhood memories involves a model rocket, painstakingly and lovingly built from a kit I’d received for Christmas. My teacher allowed me to launch it during a science lesson – but instead of shooting skyward and making me the envy of the class, it flopped and fired into the field to a chorus of guffaws.
Eleven-year-old me immediately burst into tears – not relieving my sense of humiliation. But my classmates tried to console me, even kids I usually categorised as bullies – so I blubbered that they should give the launchpad a sniff…
“Agh!” cried the class loudmouth, recoiling delightedly. “Egg smell of the century!”
Everyone, including the teacher, collapsed into laughter.
I never recovered from my rocket’s betrayal, but at least the memory acquired a punchline.
That memory has proven uncannily relevant to the month just gone. I’d hoped to begin this blog with the same atmosphere of anticipation and celebration that Sam had at the start of his diary – but instead, I’m desperately sniffing the air for a high note to end on.
Quick backstory: In my near-two decades as a professional storyteller, my work has helped young people overcome stutters, ADHD, demand avoidance, and more, all while growing their love of books. I take no credit for this – it’s always down to teachers and parents adapting my advice in ways that leave me feeling inspired.
Nevertheless, early last year, my reputation for supporting schools resulted in a government commission to produce a teacher training manual. Due to the financial fallout from covid, fulfilling that commission required me to sell my brand to an education and events company with the money to invest.
Less than a year later, I’d poured pretty much the entirety of my knowledge into that manual, including some of my most popular stories – now illustrated by the magnificent and award-winning Korky Paul (of Winnie the Witch fame). A highly experienced teacher also helped convert some of my workshops into lessons that any educator could deliver.
The result was a genuine first: an ‘all-in-one’ guide proven to instil primary-age children with the desire to read. Teacher feedback from preview copies was glowing with gratitude, if not gushing.
“…a way that works.”
“…invaluable.”
“…seeing much greater engagement”
“I LOVE IT!”
(Teachers using capital letters in feedback is the truest metric of success.)
Contacts at English Hub hoped this manual would be recognised as a potential solution to one of education’s biggest challenges today: children’s literacy and enjoyment of reading were at 81% and 83% respectively in 2006, but sit at 74% and 43% today. Surely all this book needed was a big launch event to announce it to the world…?
…and, thanks to a connection at the National Centre for Writing, I’d secured the biggest: a speaker spot at the Bett EdTech Show, held at the Excel London. Around 30,000 educators would be in attendance. Where better to launch a book proven to improve kids’ engagement with reading, described by Bett’s own Head of Content as “the original education technology.”
On top of that, the company publishing this manual was first and foremost an events company. My boss, Zee, assured me that building buzz and sales at conventions was his speciality. Of course, as Zee’s PA, I’d be left to arrange staffing, invites, a VIP drinks reception, etc – but Zee expressed excitement at being there personally to support the team, and even greenlit funding for a publicity agent.
My first few weeks of 2024 were consumed with preparation for this event. Annoyingly, this meant I couldn’t provide a tour of the House to MA architecture students from Cambridge University; our neighbour kindly stepped in for this. I did meet the professor, though – Adam Menuge, who visited a few days beforehand to plan his students’ trip. I invited him to return sometime in the next few weeks to unravel the mysteries of the House more thoroughly. He didn’t need much convincing.
Also this month, Ermma and I attended a recording of BBC Radio 4’s flagship topical comedy show, The News Quiz – pretty much my primary news source this month. The biggest headline seemed to be the national reckoning triggered by ITV’s Mr Bates vs the Post Office – but Andy Zaltzman and panel still managed to milk it for enough laughs to get Brexiteers complaining about rivers of excess.
They just about helped me keep positive despite the first snag of the month: the publicity agent went AWOL. No parting call. No email of explanation. Possibly abducted. Possibly just a publicist.
Snag two: Bett didn’t include me in their list of key speakers. Unless you were told directly, you’d be unlikely to learn that the launch existed. As a result, we’d be relying on organic footfall, charisma, and hope.
Good job I’d sold my brand to a self-certified expert in buzz-building.
Snag three: being the boss meant Zee was constantly on his phone, or at his laptop in the refreshment zone just a feather’s throw from our stand.
Consequently, the lecture theatre ended up less than a third full. Most were the VIPs we’d invited – National Literacy Trust representatives, fellow authors, and students cited in the book’s case studies. Our talented friend Cherry had baked an enormous vegan cake in the shape of a tower of books, including a gluten-free tier. The leftovers will last us till March.
Snag four: security hadn’t been told our launch event continued beyond the main fair’s end time, resulting in repeated interruptions by bolshy men with the air of people very keen to go home.
Snag five: Zee couldn’t stay till the end. Not a snag by itself – but when the events assistants asked if they could go too, he said, “I don’t see why not.”
To help clear up – that was why not.
I sent our VIPs on to the drinks reception while Ermma, Cherry, and Cherry’s teenage daughter helped me shift banners, books, and leftover cake…
…leading to snag six: When the VIPs arrived at the drinks venue, staff refused to open the obligatory £1,000 prepaid tab without me there to authorise it.
By the time I arrived, everyone had paid for their own drinks.
Zee called the other day to ask sales of the book had fallen short of our expectations. To his credit, he listened to my account, and accepted that more engagement from him might have improved the return – as I pointed out, return on his investment.
He’d been impressed by my talk, though, and agreed to reduce my PA hours for the next few weeks so I can focus on promoting this book. That’s one potential positive.
Is it too late to be a genuine positive, though? What else might abate my disappointment?
That unused tab, perhaps. It allowed me to send several of our VIPs home with bottles of wine, yet still Ermma and I returned with roughly £500-worth.
And those students. One was a teenage girl who suffers from autism and agoraphobia, yet successfully navigated the vast, noisy sprawl of Excel London. Her smile upon meeting Korky Paul, and seeing her own artwork printed in a book alongside his… That’s a smile I’ll remember for a long while.
There is one more positive, though – a potentially mahoosive one.
But alas, for legal reasons, you’ll have to wait till next month for that – no joke…
What childhood memory bears an uncanny resemblance to a more recent event in your life? I’d love to hear your stories…
Till next tale, though, ciao for niao…
$;-)