Last week I made a flying visit to London to meet my new editor at HarperCollins. I was given a wonderful welcome and shown around the new enormous sixteen storey HarperCollins building on a beautiful clear sunny day. ( Getting in and out was akin to airport security) The Shard loomed exotic, almost within touching distance. A panoramic, breathtaking London lay shimmering below.Tugs on the river, London bridge, a glittering of steel and shadowy shifting reflections in glass. All alongside ancient buildings in every direction.

I was fascinated by the huge open plan interior in which everyone at HarperCollins works.There were small areas with sofas and tiny glass rooms for quiet interviews and discussion. Desks interweaved with each other like a complicated Lego art form across the entire floor. Editors sat companionably at their computers for the long process of editing and producing the mouth watering crispy books arrayed everywhere. I felt like a child in a sweet shop, eyes swivelling from one title to the next.

It was intriguing to see the process of a book- here the editing, there the graphics for covers.  Writers are one little cog in a wheel of producing a book. We write our stories, sometimes, in the middle of nowhere. Here, in the middle of the city,  editors read and edit and polish and prune until a work is ready to put between a cover.

My book is partly set in Pakistan and I was taken to a happy and fun lunch at the wonderful Arabica in Borough Market. Delicious, middle eastern  food and interesting talk with my agent, Broo and editor, Lynn and assistant editor Charlotte

Chatting about my time in Pakistan re-kindled some almost forgotten memories. I heard the echo of my friends voices from Karachi and it made the time I am writing about immediate and real once more as I saw it through other people’s eyes.

Writing is solitary. I sit in a tiny room facing my garden and spend more time with my fictional characters than I do real people.  To sit and talk to editors who are enthusiastic and intuitive is a wonderful thing. While I am writing, someone professional  is directing the course my book will take. This felt so validating, enabling and energising.

I returned home to a house disappeared in sea mist. To an arctic wind in May. It was possible to think I might disappear too. It is vital, I believe, this necessary relationship with editor and agent, to stay grounded. I feel  very blessed and lucky.

The icing on the cake was the gift of two lovely books.

I opened Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman, on the train back to Penzance and I cannot put it down. It is a joy of a book and is going to do incredibly well. It is out any minute and I cannot recommend it enough.

( I look forward to reading The Kicking the Bucket List by Cathy Hopkins  next)

Photos: Beautiful North Pakistan. Me at Karachi Literary Festival. The Mohatta Palace, Karachi. My lovely lunch with Lynn, Broo and Charlotte.

The cover of Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman.

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