Monologuing at Zadie Smith

Recently I had the pleasure of meeting my favourite author, Zadie Smith.

I’m proud to report that I made a complete arse out of myself, as it is a tradition for me in these types of scenarios.

Before I get into the story, here’s some context. I was feeling fine before I attended this event, where Zadie Smith was talking about her new book. However, during the event I felt a bit weird (well, weirder than normal).

I kept spacing out while trying to listen to the talk. At the time I wondered if it was my usual struggles with sustaining concentration for long periods of time, plus the effects of tiredness, but it was more than that.

It was like I was in an alternate reality and I was listening to everyone whilst under water... Uh oh. (Since the event, I had to take time off work because I clearly had the flu or Covid or something equally gross.)

The event was drawing to a close when the audience was told that there would in fact be a surprise book signing after the talk.

I immediately thought, ‘YES!’

Despite feeling dazed and sleepy and possessing the type of brain that doesn’t usually love last minute changes of plans, I decided to queue up for an unknown length of time, in an unfamiliar venue, while feeling completely out of touch with reality, to get my book signed and meet my favourite author, all without much preparation.

No biggie.

I also figured that as I was so exhausted there would be no room for my adrenaline to ramp up and make me a nervous wreck at the prospect of meeting one of my literary heroes. Previously this line of thinking has worked - I have made genuinely ok public speeches when I have felt extremely tired.

About an hour after this stream of thoughts I realised I had made a huge error.

In the queue I prepared a whole conversational script that I couldn’t use. My plan was scuppered because she asked me a question first, rather than the other way round, the way I planned it in my head.

Zadie Smith opened our conversation with a friendly icebreaker - “So, are you one of these Manchester people?”

I’m sure authors and other successful famous people get this all the time - encountering fans at the signing table who are uttering literal gibberish at them.

Maybe it was the nerves. Maybe it was the unfamiliarity setting me on edge. Whatever it was, I couldn’t get the Mask to appear. Where was my Mask? You’ve never let me down, Mask! I’m sorry I ever spoke ill of you, I need you right now to make me appear normal!

Here I was, no energy to mask, sleepy and spaced-out, yabbering away to Zadie Smith whilst on ‘x2’ speed and wobbly from impending illness and general neurodivergence.

Somehow in the space of less than a minute I had managed to tell Zadie Smith:

• Where I live

• What mode of transport I’d used to get to the venue

• Where I went to university and my opinion of it

• Where my family are originally from

• My opinion on whether the North is better than the South

• My opinion on whether Manchester is better than Liverpool

• What my nan would have thought (!!)

I didn’t thank her for writing her books. I didn’t speak about her writing at all or any of the themes mentioned in her talk. I also managed to mispronounce most of what I said which is what tends to happen when I’m in a new environment and my nerves go into overdrive.

I must say that Zadie Smith was really nice to me and probably didn’t notice any of this. It’s just not how I normally act and when I left the signing it felt like a real ‘What the hell was that?’ moment.

I’m over it now (I think) but it’s funny to me that the thought of meeting someone I admire, plus being a bit run-down, plus generally being me, led me to monologue my life story to one of the best authors of our time.

It’s not the first time I’ve behaved weirdly in front of a celebrity. In fact, it’s becoming a bit of a habit.

Annoying Brian Wilson

Many years ago, I managed to wrangle a backstage pass to meet Brian Wilson, the genius behind the Beach Boys. By this time Brian Wilson wasn’t doing very well and it was clear for everyone to see, sadly. He was silent with the people who were asking for autographs and posing for photos. In retrospect he probably shouldn’t have been performing.

This was back when I was deep in the throes of my Beach Boys obsession. I had listened to every bootleg, watched every documentary and freaked out when undiscovered footage of them recording Good Vibrations was uploaded to YouTube. Meeting Brian Wilson for me was like a royalist meeting the queen or something.

When it came to my turn to meet Brian Wilson, I was filled with nerves and stumbled over my words to thank him for writing Pet Sounds. I remember feeling very, very shaky. We took a photo and I asked him to sign my backstage pass sticker. He did all this in silence, whereas I was full of nervous energy, fidgeting, concerned that the photo was ok, in awe of standing in the same room as the man who wrote God Only Knows.

Then, as I garbled a thank you and tripped over myself towards the door, Brian Wilson piped up.

“Hey,” he drawled, “you forgot your thing,” and motioned listlessly towards the backstage pass he had signed, which was laying on the table in front of him, forgotten by me. I was mortified and thanked him again, completely embarrassed. One of his crew, some middle aged dude who was minding him, laughed at me, which wasn’t very nice in retrospect but I laughed along with him out of awkwardness.

Brian Wilson hadn’t spoken in all that time. In a way, despite me probably being a really annoying fan, it was nice that he spoke up. Thanks Brian.

Meeting Jake Shears

Here’s one more while we’re on the topic. A few years ago, I found myself in HMV waiting to meet Jake Shears, frontman of Scissor Sisters, the band who made young-me think ‘Huh, I relate to this band a lot and I don’t know why…’ 🏳️‍🌈

There is no story here, just a photo. Take a look at this damn photo and the absolute state of the outfit I had the audacity to wear in front of Jake Effing Shears.

Somebody take my Queer Membership Card away, I don’t deserve it.

(Other than my awful outfit, we had a genuinely lovely conversation where I thanked him for the Scissor Sisters’ debut album which had such a transformational effect on me as an 11 year old. He was lovely to speak to.)

Whoever said ‘don’t meet your heroes’ is a bore.

Have you met anyone famous? Did you react like an alien too? Tell me about it in the comments.

This one was a bit different from the usual, let me know if you liked it!

Take it easy,

Ren