On not playing it cool

In which I wonder whether we'll enjoy life more if we allow ourselves to get excited about it

Hello friends,

I’m experimenting with not playing it cool. I had started to worry that it was dimming my enjoyment of some of the wonderful things that happen to me.

Yesterday was the last day of the Edinburgh Book Festival. My final events wrapped up on Saturday, but I stayed on for an extra couple of days, wanting to enjoy the festival as a punter – albeit a punter with access to the Author’s Yurt and a lanyard that allowed her into any event she wanted to attend.

My final event, with Sabrina Pace-Humphreys and Richard Askwith.

And while I took this job very seriously, diligently preparing for the events I was hosting, and carefully planning my outfits – I also loved every minute of it, and for once in my life I didn’t try to hide this. You’d probably have guessed, anyway, if you saw me arriving at the gates at 9am every morning, and noticed that I was still there in the Yurt that evening, sipping whisky in the corner with my girlfriend, starting up conversations with authors whose books I’d never have thought to read (but now they’re on my list), and coyly peering at others, who still felt far too famous to approach (without dissolving into fangirling).

The very first time I was allowed into the Yurt was in 2018, when I interviewed Graeme Obree, and I felt terrified. I barely recognised anyone, but couldn’t make eye contact, because presumably each person there was world-famous in their own right, and I would only embarrass myself if I got talking to them. I kept my head down, and pretended I knew what I was doing.

This year I just went up and said hi to people.