A condiment in regular-foody terms is a relish that
accompanies the main dish to embellish and complement. So my blog will be. It’s
not quite the after-dinner mint, or the little side plate of horseradish sauce
that I see as representing the intellectual side of publishing conversation.
More the little flask of flavoured oil that, though rarely used, is always
placed on the table during meals and everyone is glad it’s there.
A jolly, comforting little item then that you may turn to
when the dooming shadow of Amazon is becoming too much; something to bring a
smile to your face when an author tells you for the fourth time that actually,
a bit more time really is necessary; to revive that joy in books and stories
that, if you look far enough back with a glazed look, you can remember is the
reason you got into publishing in the first place.
Therefore, to start of this sunny, soothing and scrumptious
side dish I am going to address the charming topic of ‘if you were a famous
character who would you be?’ You may scoff, chortle, roll your eyes in a patronising manner and
be tempted to turn the page even, but I bet you’ll sit there staring at an
article that looks irritatingly important thinking “I’d love to be Frodo but I
bet with Sod’s Law I’d end up being Sam.” Because it’s actually a great
question, and I’m not fussy how you approach it. Either, you could think of who
you’d really like to be due to their amazing adventures, skills or prowess in
attracting others or address it as a self assessment; examine your own skills,
strengths, weaknesses, threats, opportunities (seem to have fallen into SWOT
territory here, but hey, draw the diagram if it brings you joy) and think about
who you would really be. That’s what you’re now doing whilst on the train is
doing; did I mention you’re on a train? Well you’re on the train to work,
dreading an exceptionally boring meeting about how everything is going wrong
and you’re feeling depressed. Now you’ve come across this little gem of a
question, done the scoffing part and got over it, and are now realising your
loyalty, determination and mistrust of small schizophrenic creatures has
definitely made you a Samwise Gamgee rather than a Frodo Baggins. You will go
on to thoroughly enjoy your meeting because you’ll be playing the same game
with your colleagues and you’ll realise your rather loud, moustached boss makes
a wonderful Uncle Vernon.
I, however, chose the dream route. This is chiefly due to
the weekly self-assessments required of a publishing student, they tend to make
the idea of doing one voluntarily enough to make you want to slam you laptop
down repeatedly on your fingers. This question has turned out to be
particularly challenging and an excellent time waster. Hermione Granger was my
first choice: gets to go to Hogwarts and hang out with Harry, is an
exceptionally talented witch, goes on adventures….but she gets tortured and
ends up married to Ron. Elizabeth Bennett was my second option: clever, witty
and beautiful. I would say she’s a pretty good arguer and gets the most
handsome and richest man falling at her feet and changing his arrogant ways for
her…but no electricity back then or adequate teeth brushing facilities. Can I
change sex? I’ve always thought being Sherlock Holmes would be quite fun, apart
from the cocaine addiction and the OCD.
I’ve been sitting here for a while now and no answer has
revealed itself to me. I’m slightly concerned I’ve unleashed an uncontrollable
monster into my imagination and the world. How am I supposed to think about
anything else? I’m sure the answer will come to me at some point, probably at
horribly embarrassing moment. I’ll be on a date, pretending to be listening and
will suddenly stand and shout, “I want to be Fagin!” A sure way not to get a
second date if ever I’ve heard one, unless of course he’s a fellow book loving
type in which case I can spread the joy, or erstwhile pick a pocket or two.
If you follow me on Twitter, dear ones, then at some point I hope the
light bulb will shine, the penny will drop or I’ll jump from the bath with a
cry of ‘Eureka’ and immediately tweet my decision.
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