Red Carpet

It was some sort of awards night, and I was on the red carpet, in a tuxedo. No pockets in the damned thing - so the only thing I had was my little black notebook and pen.

I was standing in front of a bank of paparazzi, for some reason, somewhat bemused by their attention. I had no idea what warranted this much attention - or, indeed, their interest in my notebook.

One of them asked what the notebook was far. I told them that it was for ideas I might be having during the event. I got laughter from the paps, until I told them that even now, I was still a writer - still on duty - still thinking up things to put into my books.

Still creating things for the fans.

And then I broke contact and wandered into the place where the awards were to be taking place. I'd rather have left them clamouring for more than to have hung around for too long, only to watch them abruptly switch their attentions from me to Robert Downey Jnr. or Tom Hiddleston or Gwyneth Paltrow or some such.

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