From little acorns

Well, this is a very strange run-up to official publication!  Knowing Amazon as I do, I uploaded my paperback and Kindle files on Saturday, as last time it took them about four days to get everything listed and catalogued, and I wanted it all to be in place for this coming Friday – Publication Day.  And wouldn’t you know it, they processed everything at lightning speed, and – great excitement – copies of “Portraits of Pretence” have already sold (three paperbacks and four Kindles).  However, I am (mainly through lack of time to do anything else) sticking to my original plans to do the proper launch on Friday, with updates to websites, links on Twitter and so on.

Friday is exciting for another reason.  You remember me talking about marketing “hooks”?  Well, a couple of years ago I went on a Grand Day Out to London, and visited, for the first time, the Wallace Collection in Manchester Square.  This is a little art gallery – formerly a collection in a private house – whose most famous exhibit is Frans Hals’ “Laughing Cavalier”.  But they also have a delightful collection of miniatures…  And when I started plotting “Portraits” in earnest, and realised that I wanted those portraits to be tiddlers, I went back to the Wallace and also spent a day reading their full miniatures catalogue in the University Library here in Cambridge.  So a couple of weeks ago I emailed the Wallace curator of miniatures, explaining that my book had been inspired by her collection, and asking to call in to meet her, thank her, and present her with a book – which I am doing on Friday.  I am also hoping to persuade her that I should give an author talk on the book and its origins.  I’ll let you know.

A Daunting day

No doubt you’ve been on tenterhooks to know how my Plank day went in London yesterday.  Well, it was terrific – apart from the un-forecast rain, which had me sheltering in doorways and scurrying into shops.

My first Plank port of call was Daunt Books in Marylebone High Street; I think I managed to sound “deeply committed to her subject and the research around it” without straying into “dangerously obsessional and a bit potty”, which is always such a fine line to tread.  The lovely buyer admired the books, and agreed to take one copy of “Fatal Forgery” to see how it goes.  I was thrilled, as she had suggested in emails that they wouldn’t be able to consider taking anything at all until after Christmas, so one Sam is immeasurably better than none.  I have now shamelessly Facebooked all of my London friends, urging them to stampede to Marylebone forthwith and create a storm of demand.

En route from Daunt to Oxford Street, to catch a bus to the John Soane’s Museum, I walked past the Wallace Collection, and a flicker of a memory came to me: didn’t they have some lovely French miniatures?  Without giving too much away, for “Plank 4” I am considering the mechanics of art crime – forgery, smuggling, theft, etc. – and miniatures are very tempting because they are, well, miniature.  This makes them easy to transport and hide, and I wanted to take a look at the genuine article.  And the Wallace ones are lovely – “very bling”, as I overheard a teenage visitor comment.

And as for the Sir John Soane’s Museum, let me just say that if you ever get the chance, do go.  The chap was obviously quite an eccentric – even in a grand age of English eccentrics – and his house, preserved as it was when he lived there (apart from the CCTV security system, I assume), is really something.  In the basement is a very creepy “monk’s parlour” where, according to the guide, he went “to be alone with his innermost thoughts and his imaginary friend, Father John”.  Quite.  From a Plankish perspective, it was very useful to see what one of the foremost art collectors of the day was chasing – but you’ll have to wait for “Plank 4” to find out.