A Visit to my British Publishers Hodder & Stoughton -- Part I

Look look look! Look! It's a book!

!screech-yelp-happydance!

Always, this is the moment for me that a book really feels real: when I first hold the ARC (advance reading copy) in my hands. This is the UK ARC, and it is lovely and gold-foily and embossed and isn't that feather gorgeous?? 

This copy was handed to me, gift-wrapped, by my lovely editor at Hodder & Stoughton, Kate Howard, over breakfast our first morning in London.

Hi Kate!

I think my shriek of delight is still circling Regent's Park, startling birds from their nests :)

It was so good to meet Kate in person! She bowled me over so completely last year by flying out to Los Angeles to meet my agent Jane in person to put in her bid for the book. She wowed and overwhelmed us, and from the very first, we knew Hodder would be Daughter's second home.

Later, she sent me this by way of introduction to herself and her coworkers:

How could you not love them? (Blue hair and mustaches = Daughter references :-)

From breakfast we went to Hodder Tower, which is on Euston Road, the busiest street in London. I flat love going into publishing offices. The air of creativity and busy-ness and general book-makingness, all the cool stuff on the walls, the stacks and stacks of books, everything. It makes me so happy. Always, it's such a potent reminder that I am doing what I have always wanted: I write books! Thank you, publishers, for making this happen!

And thank you readers for reading. May you prosper and multiply! Here is every reader's task on this Earth: make as many new readers as you can, either by giving birth to them yourself in the form of babies, or vampire-style, by "turning" them. No biting though. (Unless you have good reason to suspect them of deliciousness.)

One thing to make me especially happy of the giddy variety: Hodder is printing a limited collector's edition of Daughter of Smoke and Bone, print-run 1,500, all beautiful and slip-covered -- SWOON! I am over the moon about this. I love special books you want to touch and hold. I can't believe there will be one of my book, and I can't wait to see what it will be like!

I spent a few hours signing the numbered tip-in plates.

I hid secret mustaches within three of my signatures, so if you do order the special edition (I will share details when it's available; I think it'll be around £40 or 50), check to see if you happened to get one!

So, it turns out it takes a long time to sign 1,500 pages, especially when you are getting to know wonderful people! Fortunately, I was fortified with cupcakes and marshmallows! Jim and Clementine had come with, and they stayed a little while but left as I settled down to the stack.

[insert here: interlude of Londoning with family and friends, to be covered in a later post.]

That night was a treat too: dinner at the Bleeding Heart French restaurant in historic Bleeding Heart Square, of which Dickens (Dickens!) wrote, "The more practical of the yard's inmates abided by the tradition of the murder." What murder? The murder, I suppose. In 1626, the beautiful Lady Elisabeth Hatton was apparently found in the courtyard torn limb from limb, with her heart still pumping blood onto the cobblestones. Charming! 

No, really, it was charming. I should have photographed the courtyard, but when I get excited, I forget to take pictures. Oh, look! A photo snitch:

swiped from Lynsey Newton :)

The waiters were all French, the food was fancy (I had sea bream), there were feathers on the table, and wine and champagne circulating. My goodness. Look, the walls are red. Also, the butter cups had little red hearts dyed in the centers.

In attendance were Hodder folk, James and Catherine from Sales, Katie of International Sales, Kate, and my completely darling publicist Eleni -- and this was cool: they had invited two bloggers! In the fabulous red dress, so perfect for the place: Lynsey Newton of Narratively Speaking; and Liz de Jager, originally of South Africa (I couldn't place the accent!) of My Favourite Books, wearing blue. Lynsey and Liz (who both brought my previous books, neither of which are available in the UK, so I was especially touched) received the very first two copies of the ARC to be given out, and I'm so glad. They are Daughter's first readers in the world! (I so hope they like it!)

So far, so marvelous. But the BIG EVENT was the next night. 

Okay, so here's where this post gets long. Are you still with me? My shutter finger was a bit overactive! This is where even my craziest writer daydreams are surpassed by reality -- an evening so surreal it still feels like a dream. (This did really happen, right? I mean, I have pictures!)

Francine, Kate's assistant, came to pick me up at the hotel, and we drove into the West End, London's glam theater district. Hello, giant shoe of lights (I would love to see Priscilla on the stage, wouldn't you?).

The occasion: Hodder's Annual Sales Conference, which they DO UP. All day, at a nearby cinema, they had been presenting their new list to the trade -- booksellers, accounts, reviewers, etc -- including debuting the new Daughter book trailer, which is so good I cannot beleeeve it, and can't wait to show you it! 

After, they would adjourn to the Café de Paris in Picadilly . . .





. . . this famous luxe nightclub from the 1920s, erstwhile host to Lord and Lady Mountbatten, young Princess Margaret swathed in furs, Orson Welles and Vivien Leigh, Frank Sinatra, Grace Kelly, and on and on. Cole Porter was a regular act, and many other jazz greats of the age, and the cafe was allowed to stay open during the Blitz -- a poor decision, as it turned out, as it was bombed in 1941 and eighty people were killed, including the musician on stage. It was rebuilt, obviously, and continued to be one of the city's top hotspots. 

I can't help imagining what Princess Margaret and her ilk would think on arriving to find this group of musicians lounging outside the door with their ciggies:

I know what I thought: 

Oh my word. My book lives.

Because here's the thing: the party was themed on Daughter of Smoke and Bone.

*gulp*

Upon entering the Café, you immediately descend through velvet and crystal.

And what, on this evening, greeted you at the entrance to the ballroom, where the two sweeping wings of stairs meet . . .

photo from Cafe de Paris website

. . . was this table, a set straight from Daughter:

Since no one has yet read the book, I suppose I must be mysterious here. But you might recall the line in the cover copy that says:

In a dark and dusty shop, a devil's supply of human teeth grows dangerously low.

Well, this was that shop. And it. Looked. Awesome.

I arrived early, so I had leisure to gape and take pictures, thank goodness. I wanted to take the whole table home with me. Who did all this? Hodder had hired this amayyyzing firm of costumiers called Prangsta, based in London, which blends vintage garments with props and art to create bespoke tailored costumes for events -- along with appropriate and wildly inventive decor, and entertainment and actors. You can read more about them here, and gape at their galleries here. It was only the week before we left for London that Kate gave me any clue as to what was brewing -- it was going to be a surprise, but then they needed my measurements, so the cat was let out of the bag. When I saw Prangsta's website, I knew it was going to be phenomenal.

And it was.

Feathers and wishbones hanging everywhere.

Curious statuary in beast regalia.

Masks at every place setting.

And backstage, in Prangsta's costume "boudoir," the special stuff. The one-of-a-kind masks. And wigs. A Marie Antoinette bouf with antlers. A horned pig snout. Astonishing beautiful weird stuff.

And astonishing beautiful weird people.

This angel and devil had a role in things on stage later on.

The makeup artist: 

On the far right, Holly, who put me in my costume.

I had no idea what my costume would be, but I was hoping for horns.

I was not disappointed.

And . . . 

. . . because this post is so long already,

and because I think I'll be getting more photos from Hodder later this week,

I think I'll turn it into a two-parter, and cut away here. 

Forgive me.

I know I keep teasing about the costume.

So I will say this:

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My feet were not neglected.

Aha ha ha ha ha ha! 

Okay. Until next time. Cheers!