So, the panel at Bradford Literature Festival is done. And it was brilliant. (It is definitely a festival to look out for – the programme is wonderful and interesting and diverse, and it’s been organised superbly – DO check it out).
The delightful Leah Moore (who, aside from doing wonderful and good things with comics, is also doing other Very Interesting Things with Electricomics – DO have a look), Taran Matharu (NYT bestseller as of last week – huge congratulations), and me talked about new ways of writing, and how we started (and continue in the industry) and a whole manner of things I hope were interesting or helpful and it was good. A huge thank you, as ever, to those who came – it was a shame I didn’t get to have more of a chat after. I hope you were all able to take something useful away with you (and you can always drop me a line here, don’t forget). And thanks, too, to Ralph Dartford for his splendid, chairing duties.
It was fun. Meeting good people, talking to and sharing space with people who love stories and make stories and read stories has always been one of the things I love most about what I do.
And, today, I even dressed up.
And here’s us after.
I remembered, as I was on the train heading back, that the last time (I think) I was in Bradford was when I was, I think, about eighteen and on a course for work (back when I had a proper job). It was the first time I’d driven on a motorway, and it was in a left-hand drive VW Lupo. I remember my colleague being, err, a little shaky once we stopped. (Graham, I am still very sorry.)
Later, after trains and things, I went for a walk and it was really quite lovely. It was the kind of light you seem to get at this time of year, and not very often at that. See?
It’s been a bit of a weird and busy (as ever) few weeks for me. I have been writing again and that’s been good, or was good, until I managed to get an infection in my finger (cellulitis, I’ve had it before but, thanks to our brilliant NHS and their walk-in services I have medicine) which, kind of stopped me dead. Isn’t that always the way? But it’s better now and, once I’ve finished typing this I shall be picking up my pen again and making words and worlds and, hopefully, they will be good. Or good enough to be made better later. You never can tell…