Simon Callow and lovely local author Vivian French, who was interviewing him

The next evening we had an event with Robin Ince. I say “an event” because it started out, organisationally speaking, with him going to talk about his new book Robin Ince’s Bad Book Club, about the worst (or perhaps the best?) books ever written. (My favourite was The Secrets of Picking Up Sexy Girls, which features a Chapter One entitled: ‘What is a girl?’) However, the evening ended up…somewhat differently. Robin did talk about the book for a while, but then some of his friends – mostly other comedians – came on to read from a couple of the worst/best books he had written about. Specifically, a series about Giant Killer Crabs. He then had someone doing interpretative dance about crabs, then a tap dancer being the crab, then other instruments. I can’t really explain, so here are a few pictures (click on them to make them bigger):

You'll have to take word for it, but Jo on the left is tap dancing whilst Robin is reading

Comedian Stewart Lee reading. I think this bit was filthy.

Comedians on instruments on the right and interpretative dance on the left

I can genuinely say that I haven’t laughed so much in a long time.

It sounds cheesy, but we really do want to make The Edinburgh Bookshop the book lover’s bookshop. If you’ve not visited us yet, we have a Simon Callow event in August, so that’s a perfect excuse to come to Edinburgh!

Well, the time has almost arrived. Lari will be writing in our shop window on Friday, Saturday and Sunday of this week, and we’re very excited! If you are an Edinburgh local, pop in and ask her questions about her books or about being an author (even if you don’t have any children to bring!). She’s also looking for some help with some questions as: can a centaur fit in a tent?  What does a fairy pack for a camping holiday? What do selkies eat at feasts (apart from fish cakes, obviously)? Do selkies breathe underwater?  And what names can she give the two ocean powers whose battles make the storms rise out at sea?

We’re also hoping that when the final book is published, Lari will come back and read the chapter she wrote here in the shop at an event.

Becky’s Sarcastic Inner Monologue: We. Are. A. BOOKSHOP.

What a lovely way to start a Monday.

However, I have always felt that writing for a living – even if one had talent – would just be so much of oneself on display, even in fiction. The thought even makes me feel a little queasy, the same kind of feeling as if I had decided to take all of my most personal belongings onto The Meadows for Edinburgh residents to poke about and judge. Intellectually, I know that writers must have boundaries and that as readers we can’t really be living in their heads, but emotionally I feel that the relationship between reader and author is at times almost possessive.

I read a blog post today by Scott Adams in which he talks about how his creative impulses were and are just that: compulsive. The best you can hope for in this life is that your delusions are benign and your compulsions have utility. I am very jealous of those who have the courage and intense hunger to create, and who also have the talent to create something that is full of beauty and humour and light.

[On the other hand, even without that intersection of talent and will, Vanessa and I were saying last week that we could do a better "write-by-numbers" chick-lit book than some of the proofs we've been given recently. One too many glasses of wine one Friday evening and we'll knock up a synopsis and an appropriate double-barrelled author name for you all to judge...]

I’m not sure I had a point I was getting to here, but feel free to ramble in the comments creatively about creativity if you so desire!

On a more cheerful note: the City of Literature campaign this year is the delightful Carry a Poem. They have produced a free book filled with some much-beloved poems, and they’re inviting people to tell them about how they carry their favourite poem. It’s been really popular initiative: we’ve even had some people come into bookshops to tell us their story, which is lovely (if a little unexpected!). Excitingly, love poetry is going to be projected on Castle Rock this weekend, which is the only time an outside organisation has been allowed to do so.

I’m going to jump on the bandwagon at this point: tell me your favourite poem and why. If we get some good stories, then I will randomly select someone and send them a copy of Carry a Poem plus a few of the Carry a Poem poetry cards. (Granted, not much of an incentive if you live in Edinburgh and can get it for free, but more fun if you aren’t a resident!)

I’ll start…

I find it almost impossible to pick a favourite, but if forced, I would probably go with Hope is the Thing with Feathers, by Emily Dickinson. I love the way her poetry often seems so stream of consciousness - a burst of emotion on the page – and yet fits together in perfectly-tesselating agreement. I enjoy a lot of her darker poems, but Hope is the Thing with Feathers catches (for me) that feeling of the determined something inside that flickers even when you feel low.

So, give me yours!