Blood, sweat and adrenalin

Blood, sweat and adrenalin—under the covers of the Mountains to Sea Book Festival

Creating a book festival – a behind the scenes view of the first Mountains to Sea Book Festival. Article published in Books Ireland July/August 2013

In 2008 Dún Laoghaire–Rathdown County Council considered starting a book festival. After all, we have a rich Irish literary heritage (Beckett, Joyce, Flann O’Brien, Joe O’Connor, Colum McCann, Emma O’Donoghue, etc.). This idea became the Mountains to Sea dlr Book Festival.

I had never run a festival but as director was part of a team: librarian Oonagh Brennan, main curator Bert Wright, children’s curator Sarah Webb, and Lineup, an event management company. Book festivals are probably the simplest to put on. All one needs is an author and interviewer, chairs, microphones and a venue. There are other issues, however. Starting from scratch, we had to decide on everything: the festival’s name (which comes from the county motto), venues, ticket prices, PR campaign and so on—even before that all-important issue of authors!

Bert and Sarah knew the book trade intimately and had the personality, patience and persistence to get top authors, including Sebastian Faulks, Michael Ondaatje, Melvyn Bragg, Edna O’Brien and Jennifer Johnston. Getting authors to come is sometimes not easy. Ours was a new festival and our credibility had to be established. Then there is timing: does the festival coincide with their having a book out and are they available? Then there was what Bert described (quoting a former Manchester United manager) as ‘squeaky bum time’, when the programme could fall apart or come together.

A key event was the Beckett Address, celebrating his influence on current writers. We invited American writer Paul Auster, outlining Beckett’s association with the area and what we were doing. When we got his reply I was with my family in Edinburgh. I doubt the children will ever forget me jumping up and down shouting, ‘Paul Auster is coming! Paul Auster is coming!’

The phony war ends when tickets go on sale. It becomes real when you see people buying tickets. I became obsessive about tracking sales on-line in real time. I set up spreadsheets, analysed the busiest times and monitored the impact of programme distribution. Satisfaction in seeing events sold out was tempered by those that were struggling. Sometimes sure-fire successes—a best-selling writer with books displayed everywhere—turn out to be disasters for which you cannot give away tickets. Thankfully these were rare, but I remember them more than the others.

Outsiders think that festival week is when the hard work begins. There is a lot of running around looking anxious—an excellent way to lose a few pounds. This, however, was when the fun started. I always hosted some events, both because I wanted to and to ensure that people knew that the council was taking ownership of this festival. I always had moments of regret in the days before, because, amidst everything else, reading an author’s works and thinking of intelligent questions is no easy task.

While we did not always get everything right, the authors were usually very understanding. Writers have to be some of the most decent and easy-going people. And they want to engage with the audience. Writing is a lonely occupation, demanding absolute solitude, so most writers like to ‘connect’ with their readers. Nearly every author commented on the intelligence of the Dún Laoghaire audiences.

Once an interviewer did not arrive by the starting time. After ten minutes, the author was keen to get on. While attempts were made to contact the absentee, I stepped onto the stage to interview someone about a book I had not read. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. Just as I was about to begin, however, the interviewer arrived and I was saved.

Most events were lovely. Some that I felt particularly privileged and proud to have been part of were the first Radio 1 Sunday Miscellany recording at the festival, the three Beckett Addresses, Imram’s Dylan Project, the event with John Banville and Alex Miller, and one with Justin Cartwright and Christopher Hope.

Meeting authors whom you admired was a pleasure, but there was not generally a lot of interaction. Most get in and out quickly. You might have a chat before or after, and at best go for a bite to eat. A memorable but deeply unearned moment came in Alexis’ Restaurant with Paul Auster, Siri Hustvedt, Barry McGovern, John Boorman and Peter Carey of the Sunday Times. Towards the end of the night Siri proposed a toast to Samuel Beckett and Tim Carey! We closed the restaurant at a late hour and I paid for my excesses with one of the worst hangovers!

After each festival I felt that I had used a bucket of adrenaline, but even as I recovered I thought about what to improve on, what to drop and what new things to try the following year. And the others were doing the same.
The first year was deemed a success. The second was an uphill struggle—the equivalent of the difficult second novel. But we said that we would judge the festival on its third year. And in that year it was the second largest in Ireland after Listowel. I knew we had ‘arrived’ when a well-known journalist, discovering that the events she wanted were booked out, simply asked, ‘Is there anything left I can get a ticket to?’

After three years I stepped down but not without regret. One does these things because one believes that books, the written word and ideas are important—I am also an author and historian. As with anything worthwhile, the festival required not only blood and sweat but also a bit of everyone’s soul. Nevertheless, it was time to get back to my ‘proper job’ as Heritage Officer and regain my family life. Still, to this day, and possibly forever, a poster from the third year signed by all the authors takes pride of place in my hall.

Paul Auster speaking at the first Mountains to Sea dlr Book Festival in 2009.