Why writers are like the police and Sebastian Faulks was half right

San Sebastian was hot and gorgeous, the service awful, the chorizo delightful, the beach crowded, San Miguel sandy. Only problem was our apartment didn’t have internet and I had a Times feature (among other things) to finish, so I’d find myself on the steps of the local library frantically trying to send queries to press officers and deal with out of office editors. That’s the problem with being a writer: you’re never off duty. Hopefully it’ll all be worth it in the long run.

In the

Speaking of Out of Office, publication draws a little closer, with the signing of contracts and advances sorted. Now all I need to do is generate some publicity, good or bad. Anyone got any ideas?