Back in 2012, I was fortunate enough to be invited to the Edinburgh International TV Festival as part of their The Network talent scheme. It was designed for new entrants to the industry and proved to be the springboard for a career that has endured to this day. Whilst I’m not suggesting that Shetland Noir is in any way guaranteed to have a similar impact on my writing career, it felt like a moment.
One of the biggest things I remember about The Network was the sense that, ‘yes, this is where I want to be. I want to make my career in television, and I do belong here.’ I didn’t know if I would come away feeling the same as I arrived at the Mareel, the home of Shetland Noir in Lerwick. This was a weekend of heavy hitters. Legends in publishing were taking to the stage. And I wasn’t just there to spectate and develop like I was at The Network. I was there to try and hold my own. That’s a very different proposition.
Whilst I don’t see the people I was on The Network with anywhere near as much as I’d like, I still think about them often and I wouldn’t think twice about working with them, or simply nipping down the pub for a natter. The same now goes for the authors that I met this last weekend. I’ll always suffer from some form of imposter syndrome. I like it. I don’t want to lose it. I don’t like feeling comfortable. I’ll enjoy that when I retire. But the wonderful folk at Shetland, all of whom are supremely talented and established authors, made sure they included little old me. These are people who already have their networks. They were seeing old friends, they were catching up, but they allowed me in.They were generous with their time, interested in who I was and what I was trying to do. They were fantastic. I have to give a special shout out to my fellow panellists as well. Sharing the stage with two wonderfully talented authors in Ajay and Alis, with Tim guiding us through was great fun. It flew by and I hope we kept everyone entertained!
And then there were the readers. By far the most important people at any book festival, because without them it’d just be us authors sat in a bar getting pissed. (All right, there was a fair bit of that as well.) The first people I spoke to at the festival were a wonderful couple from Stourbridge. I’d entered into a crowded room where people were already queuing for food, after travelling from seven that morning. I was tired, overwhelmed and without doubt nervous. But I spent a wonderful ten minutes talking to them both and felt completely at ease from then on. As the weekend went on, I’d regularly stop to say hello and check in with them. I will be holding them to their offer of meeting up for a pint the next time Nuneaton and Stourbridge cross paths in the football. It’s safe to say that interaction was possibly the most important for me of the whole weekend.
I can’t talk about the weekend without talking about the people of that island either. Never has a place felt more welcoming. Every person I came across in the hotel, shops, bars (there were many bars) was just so bloody nice. It helps that they live on a stunning archipelago, I guess. That would have to help. But all the same, these were some of the finest folk I’ve met. My next trip back won’t be too far in the future.
There were so many moments across this weekend that will mean something to me forever now. Signing the books of people who sought me out because they love my work. That was mad. Watching the fitba till four in the morning. Talking about a shared love for the underappreciated classic Dog Soldiers. Being cast as a cockney wide boy and nicknamed Buttons. A smoked sausage supper by the harbour. A completely normal pint and chat about the football with my idol. Imparting my love of flight tracking apps. Comparing notes on life as a student in Sunderland. Songs, stories and whisky by the fire on the most breath-taking beach at St. Ninian’s.
I came away from it enriched. I’ve learnt a lot about the game. I have been given some great advice. Perhaps the most important thing was a line from Vaseem Khan when he was being interviewed about Ann Cleeves. He was talking about the early days of his career and how Ann had advised him that he had to decide who he wanted to be as an author. He decided he wanted to be Ann Cleeves. My problem is, I don’t think based on this weekend I could whittle it down to one. I’m going to have to be some sort of hybrid made up of the best bits of everyone I met.
They say you always remember your first time. I’m not sure that when that saying was coined, it was aimed at literary festivals. But I’ll remember my first time. I’ll remember the people I met. I’ll remember how they made me feel like I belong. I returned home feeling the same as I did after The Network. This is where I belong. This is where I want to make my name. Just like in TV, it will take more than just this weekend. It will take hard graft and sacrifice. There will be moments it will suck. I will make mistakes. But I can’t stop now. I’ve seen what it feels like. I’ve stood alongside my peers and been welcomed by them. I’ll remember the fuel they added to my fire. Whatever comes next, it is in part thanks to them. (Don’t hold it against them.) What you can do however, is check out the Shetland Noir website. Have a read about who was on. Then check out their work. Because I guarantee, you’re going to love them.
