I’m not good at talking about my book.

I’m not good at talking about my book. It’s something I need to work on. I understand the fundamentals of a good pitch, I know how to write a decent log-line—but when I’m talking about my book, especially in small talk, I falter. Here’s how a conversation typically goes:

STRANGER: “What do you do?”
ME: “Oh, I’m revising a book I wrote.”
STRANGER: “That’s cool! What’s it about?”
And then, I mumble, and one of the following usually ends up falling out of my mouth:

• It’s a revenge story!

• It’s the story of a coup.

• MAGA, but instead it’s “Make Florence Great Again”

• People are petty to each other and then bad things happen.

• Fun times in Renaissance Florence.

• Breaking Bad, but set in the 1400s.

The January Christmas tree graveyard in my neighborhood.

I’m good at self deprecation. (I acknowledge the slight irony in phrasing it that way.) And I know what many of you might say to me right now: It’s an accomplishment to even finish a draft of a book. You should feel good about that! And I do feel good about the progress I’ve made. Hell, I believe that the book has actually turned out half-way decent. But I still struggle with talking confidently about it.

Here’s one problem: when I mention I’m writing a historical novel, some people’s eyes glaze over. And I don’t blame them for that—it’s not everyone’s preferred genre. I personally struggle with postmodern books, and others don’t like historical fiction. That’s completely fair. This includes writers too. If I had a pound for every time I’ve sat in a workshop and someone’s told me I usually find historical fiction boring, but your book is really fun, I would at least have £10—preferably the kind with Jane Austen on it.

Still, I find myself waffling on talking about my book because I’m already anticipating that someone might not like historical fiction. It’s rather self-defeating, after all, since, these days, historical fiction books are frequently shortlisted for the top fiction prizes. Period and genre dramas are hugely successful on TV. Even some of Shakespeare’s best plays are, in a way, historical fiction. But, in the end, why does genre matter? After years of working in marketing, you would think I’d be more quick to realize that genres are just a shorthand way to label books to better market them toward certain groups. A good story should transcends any labels—genre, style or otherwise.

So, I’m trying to be better at feigning the confidence which I may not naturally have. Here’s to trying: you want to know what my book is really about?

A feud begins in Renaissance Florence—a conflict that will ensnare a young, queer painter and spark one of history’s grandest revenge stories.

Hopefully that piques your interest. If it doesn’t, that’s okay—I’ll probably continue to tinker with this log-line for several more months.

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What I’m watching: Parallel Mothers is great. I liked The Lost Daughter too. I was not a fan of Belfast.

What I’m reading: Really enjoyed Katie Kitamura's strange, brief novel Intimacies while I wait, seemingly forever, for my library hold on To Paradise.