Have you read it yet?

Been one week since I e-mailed Z.S.A.C. No news.

How to bypass slush

E-mail Zadie Smith's agent's colleague (that's too many apostrophes- Z.S.A.C. from now on) and give her a brief synopsis. She e-mails straight back

'Many thanks for your enquiry and sounds very interesting.'

She asks for the first three chapters.

On networking

Go to the bookshop in Willesden Green. It's jammed. Zadie Smith does a reading and signs lots of hardbacks. I spot her agent (I checked her out on the company website) but she’s deep in conversation with Zadie Smith’s husband, Nick Laird, who I recognise from a newspaper interview. I don’t want to interrupt so hunt around for other agent-looking people.

Drinking wine and looking around when a middle-aged lady comes up.
‘Are you Nick?’
She’s clutching a copy of Nick Laird’s new book of poetry and a pen.
‘No,’ I say.
She looks at me.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘They told me he was the good-looking young man in the white shirt.’
This isn’t said in a complimentary or flirty way, she is dead serious. I look at her, then around the room. Leaving aside the question of whether I'm good-looking or not, I am definitely the only male there wearing a white shirt.
‘I’m pretty sure it’s him,’ I say and nod towards the man wearing a dark T-shirt and brown jacket talking to Zadie’s agent.
‘Are you sure it’s not you?’
I smile. ‘Honestly.’
She doesn’t smile back and obviously thinks I’m taking the piss.
‘Try him,’ I say. ‘Really.’
She shuffles towards Nick.

Zadie's mum invites us back to her house for nibbles after.
I notice Zadie's agent is making moves, saying goodbye to Nick and heading for the door. I lunge, introduce myself and give her my short spiel. She says she's not interested in thrillers but I should try her colleague, xxx, and helpfully writes her name, number and e-mail.

'Tell her I told you to contact her.'

Another nice lady.

On the way out I think I see one of the girls from the flat next to mine. What’s she doing here? I get all excited in case she's a literary agent or knows some or has tons of book contacts.

‘Hi, Rob. What a surprise!'
'Hi. What are you doing here?'
'My friend works in another branch of this bookshop.'
'Oh. Great.'
'And you?'
“I, uh… kind of know Zadie Smith’s mum.’
Which sounds daft even as i'm saying it.

Nice Teeth

Another rejection. Standard letter addressed to “Mr Gums.”

Adios and Ciao

Closing party for the school last night.
Staff, students and host families eating chicken wings, onion bhajis and vol-au-vents in a pub basement. Actually a lot of fun because the director put a wad of money behind the bar so the students were only stiff and uncomfortable until their second free drink.
Also I met Zadie Smith's mum. She came with our accountant and she's a lot of fun. Had a good chat with her and as I was leaving she asked:

‘Rob, would you like to come to a book signing Zadie’s doing in a couple of weeks.’
‘Yes, please.’ I try not to drool with eagerness.
‘Her agent will be there.’
‘Great. That would be brilliant.’

Very, very happy.

What a lovely lady. Even though I didn’t like “White Teeth” much, if Zadie Smith’s mum somehow helps me get an agent I will forever tell everybody how much I love the book.
(Real story: rented a beach house with friends in Australia and finished what I was reading. The landlord had left two books in the house and one of them was “White Teeth.” With all the great reviews, publicity and hype I thought I’d lucked out. Fifty pages in I stopped and swapped it for “The Readers Digest Guide to Wild Birds of New South Wales.”)

But I will lie for representation.