When I went to the Festival of Writing last month, it was the first time I'd seen several hundred writers gathered together. Perhaps I should amend this to: several hundred, largely unpublished writers, with enough money to attend the event and perhaps this skewed the result, for I would definitely say that beauty was poorly represented- to my (myopic) eyes.
There were notable exceptions, of course: stylish older women with exquisite jewellery, a young man who looked like Ian McShane in the 60's movie, `The Pleasure Girls' and could only afford to come from London for the day, but in the main we were a slightly unkempt (particularly the men), overweight, grizzled and scruffy lot or young and cadaverously sombre. Not so the agents, successful writers, editors and book doctors, who were largely beautifully elegant or elegantly beautiful, if female, and at the very least, charming and roguish, if male.
I'm not sure whether this reflects the importance of beauty for success in many fields of life, particularly those in the public eye or whether many writers, who lead the life of the mind and create beauty rather than trade in it, aren't especially interested in the physical self. (`Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountain- God composes, why shouldn't we?' Guillemets).
Sadly, perhaps that stance works better for men than women, in all walks of life; men can afford to be admired and courted for their minds alone- Salman Rushdie, Stephen Fry and Howard Jacobson come to mind. For women, I fear, this remains more difficult. As Cindy Crawford said: `Even I don't wake up looking like Cindy Crawford.' So maybe what we female wannabe writing successes need to do is undergo a total restyling and rejuvenation programme. I'm sure that would help the confidence- and thus the perfect pitch- no end.
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