Pulling the ladder up behind you
Should I have expected less from my interaction with this famous writer?
Don’t meet your literary heroes, girls (and boys).
I met someone I really, really admire recently, and was left so bitterly disappointed that I still think about it almost daily when I come across her or her writing online. The feeling of disillusionment lingers like The Cranberries during the sing song at the end of a wedding.
I will be deliberately vague here about who I’m talking about, because the last thing I want is an awkward online confrontation between me and The Accused.
I was attending a gathering of writers a few months ago, where I was assured (and to be honest, genuinely assumed) the vibe would be supportive, encouraging, welcoming. The person who invited everyone insisted that the gathering was to be positive; not a cringey networking opportunity, just a real, authentic chance for writers to convene and talk about their collective challenges.
I went along, nervous to be there alone, but glad of the chance to maybe speak to a writer I admire that I knew was also attending. We’re the same age, have had similar career trajectories and I’ve been a huge supporter of hers over the years. Not that she needed it, by any means – she was and is massively successful.
When I walked in, I saw her chatting to some high-profile, similarly successful authors and journalists, and she was gladly and happily chatting away, looking comfortable in spite of the fact that she has said she can be shy in social situations. Seeing this made me think – okay. She’s approachable. She’s friendly. Hell, she looks positively buzzed to chat to strangers.
Towards the end of the event, I worked up the courage to go over and speak to her. I was a little intimidated, as I would be with anyone whose work I admired. So I just said: ‘Isabel?’ (not her name) as an opener. She was standing alone at the time, flicking through her phone, so I knew I wasn’t interrupting.
She looked at me through the side of her eyes, without turning toward me.