Being an author is a lonely life.
We spend months stuck behind a keyboard imagining worlds we hope people will love. Sometimes, though, we have to emerge from our solitude and meet the public.
Although social media has made engaging with readers much simpler than in previous generations, it is still very much part of our job to appear at festivals, bookshops, or other events where we hope people who are vaguely interested in our books, or perhaps just our genre, will turn out to meet us.
A Lesson from Elly Griffiths
When I was starting out, the wonderful best-selling Brighton author Elly Griffiths told me that she would appear anywhere she could, to as many or as few people there were, to meet those who spend their hard-earned money on her excellent books. I’ve inserted the word “excellent” in that sentence. She said that whether you have two or two hundred people in the audience, your job is to make their effort in being there worthwhile and to give them a peek into your world. I’ve never actually seen Elly with just two people; it’s always closer to the two hundred mark, but I know she makes each and every person feel like she’s speaking only to them, engaging as she does at a deeply personal level. I’ve tried to live by Elly’s lessons in my ten years as an author and, in so doing, hope I’ve achieved a fraction of the connection she makes.
Some authors, through their stunning back catalogues or because they’re celebrities in other walks of life, sell out events the moment tickets go on sale. I’m not one of those and don’t expect to be. Like many authors, I feel flattered if I’m invited to speak anywhere and always make the effort to do so. What I have found, though, is it is impossible to gauge audience size with location and previous appearances being no predictor of attendance.
I’ve been lucky enough to speak to sell-out crowds at festivals such as Capital Crime and Harrogate Crime Festival (probably given the other authors on the platform) but I also speak at fledgling festivals, colleges, private organisations, and bookshops. Recently, I was invited to Littlehampton’s new and fabulous Arcade Bookshop. Whilst it is only forty-five minutes from my home, Littlehampton is not somewhere I’ve ever lived, worked, or have a huge tie to, but for the third time in this town my event was sold out; twice at the library and now in this gem of a bookstore – which you really must visit. As well as no spare seats, the audiences are hugely engaging and interested as well as being generous with their comments throughout.
Sold Out in the Unlikeliest Places
Recently, I spoke in Retford in Nottinghamshire, a town I’d never heard of, and at Oxted, a place I’d driven through but never stopped at, and each was sold out. I have absolutely no idea why. Maybe it’s the marketing nous of the organisers, that these places are hotbeds for crime fiction fans, or perhaps there was nothing on the telly.
By contrast, I’ve appeared at events in Brighton where I do have a footprint and where my books are set. For some reason, sometimes attendance has been low to patchy. I make no complaint about this. I’m not entitled to have anyone give up their money and time to see me, I just find it an interesting anomaly.
With smaller audiences, I adopt a more conversational approach so that people feel more engaged rather than spoken at. With larger crowds that’s not always possible but, leaning into Elly’s advice, I spend time answering questions, signing books, then chatting to the fascinating and generous audience members and staff afterwards.
Why Turning Up Matters
Readers owe writers nothing. We’re just grateful that you have shown an interest in the fruits of our lonely labours. However, if you spot an event featuring an author you’ve read or would like to read, do try to go. We may only make a few pence from each book sale at these events but they do remind us while we’re tapping away at our keyboards that there are real people out there who might actually read our words. That thought spurs us on in the hope we will bring joy to our loyal fans and maybe find some new ones on the way.
I originally wrote this for my weekly column in The Argus, published on Monday, 17 August 2026.
