When we had written Farewell Trip and were trying to get it published, Karin entered the first three chapters in a Romance Novel competition for unpublished authors – I forget the exact details. And we were shortlisted for an award, which meant we were invited to the Romance equivalent of the Booker Prize. To be honest, I think that was as exciting as it got for Karin. Me, not so much. I feigned indifference. Plus, luckily, I was busy that night so didn’t attend.
Karin did though. We didn’t win. But she got to mingle with the great and good of the Romance world. I asked how it had gone. She said she had a great time. She also said she had been taken to one side by one of the most important people at said event, and that person had said to her, seriously meaning to be helpful:
“Of course, you know, you need to get rid of your imaginary male co-author.”
Karin deemed this hilarious, but underneath was also furious. I asked if it would help our chances of being published if we erased me from the pitch. 'Absolutely not,' she said. 'Fuck ‘em.' Bless.
This story stayed with me. And in its very instance, I remember thinking to myself, oh, I want to play with that…
Karin did though. We didn’t win. But she got to mingle with the great and good of the Romance world. I asked how it had gone. She said she had a great time. She also said she had been taken to one side by one of the most important people at said event, and that person had said to her, seriously meaning to be helpful:
“Of course, you know, you need to get rid of your imaginary male co-author.”
Karin deemed this hilarious, but underneath was also furious. I asked if it would help our chances of being published if we erased me from the pitch. 'Absolutely not,' she said. 'Fuck ‘em.' Bless.
This story stayed with me. And in its very instance, I remember thinking to myself, oh, I want to play with that…
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