A Slip of the Keyboard Read Online Free PDF

at for several hours.
    Give some thought to where the signing table is. I prefer to have my back to something—a wall, shelves, whatever. That means the kid with the blue anorak and one blocked nostril can’t stare over my shoulder for two hours, which is off-putting (there’s always one …).
    Some shops like to put the author near the doors. This is a problem on winter tours—I’ve frozen before now, so try to put the table out of the worst of the icy blast. Shops in malls sometimes get the author to sign out in the mall. This is probably fine for a “media” author or an author who can definitely draw a big queue, but it’s hell on wheels for the rest. Besides, it’s always too noisy and you get a Greek chorus of Uzis—the little old ladies that stand around glaring at the luckless author and muttering “Uzi? Uzi den? Izeeonnatelly? Uzi?”
    Vase of flowers on the table? That’s nice, but someone will knock it over, so take it away when the signing starts.
    A lot of authors travel with their own pens, but it’s a good idea to have a few available, including a marker that will take on a shiny surface. Try to avoid Biros with chewed ends—they lack that certain something. The author may require—or at least haughtily expect—help with opening books at the right page and so on, although in my experience most are quite happy to get on with the event and require nothing more than that staff keep a lookout for the mad axman.
    Give some thought to the queue itself. Try not to make it stand out in the rain. Some bookshops appear to think of queues as a nuisance to be punished rather than a long line of customers, whereas I will definitely go back to the shop which, having been forced to make the queue stand outside their (small) premises on a cold November day, went to the bakery across the road and got a really good deal on 250 hot mince pies. That was style, and probably good business, too.
    Ladies with small yet terminally loud children should be ushered to the front while everyone still has their eardrums. I’ve learned that people in wheelchairs are usually happy (even determined) to wait their turn—as one said to me, “After all, at least I’m sitting down.” It’s worth tactfully policing a long queue, though, for those who will clearly suffer during a long wait.
    If you have got a TV personality promoting something with a title like “The Whoops-Where-Did-That-One-Go? Christmas Fun Book,” don’t pass comment if they spend a lot of time reading their book while they’re in the shop. It may be the first time they’ve seen it. Do not offer to help them with the longer words.
    Hardly anyone turned up? If it’s absolutely no one, then something has gone really wrong, especially if you’ve done a decent promotion. It’s probably not your fault. Don’t leave the authoralone but chat to them, keep knives away from them, and tell them stories about how even this is good compared to what happened when Miss X did a signing here.
    Have loads of people turned up? In the wash of relief, most authors will at the very least sign for everyone who was present in the queue by the official end of the signing, and many of us will simply sign until we run out of people or time. There are a few (rumour says) who will leave at the end of their hour no matter what; if they want to give a bad impression to a large number of readers, this is their choice. Be stoical about it, bear in mind that there may be another event that day, and it may have been a very long week already. A good publicist should have budgeted the time correctly, but we’re all prey to unexpected six-mile tailbacks on the motorway.
Care and feeding of authors
    Since many signings take place over the lunch hour, a snack is appreciated before or after the signing. A sandwich is fine, although the author may well have been living on sarnies for weeks and would be pathetically grateful for a jacket spud or something exotic. Haughty demands for smoked