Its raining hard. So really my first day outfit options are limited. Tights and boots, umbrella, cagoul. Okay, I'm not making the most stylish first impression but hey, at least I'm not late. As an intern, your only real task on the first day is to make sure to arrive in good time and remember people's names. Anything other achievements are added bonuses and should be privately celebrated.
Google maps are a godsend, same goes for 4G cellular reception. I actually kiss my iPhone (awkward, glad no one saw that) when I arrive at Fox Mason's office door. Its painted bright red and artfully concealed between a french restaurant and a modern office block. Instead of ringing the doorbell 45mins before expected I spend half an hour sipping on a super-juice at the Whole Foods nearby.
I receive a text from my boss asking me to meet her outside, I've met Becky a couple of times before, once when she came for a meeting in the Faber offices (I had a brief stint of work experience there last summer) and a few months later at a gig at the Roundhouse in London. Even so, I'm nervous that I won't recognise her as she walks past the window where I'm sitting. We're supposed to meet outside, and I don't want her thinking I'm late as she waits in the heavy rain at Piccadilly Circus. I recognise her immediately of course. She is the only one waving.
Bypassing the awkwardness, she greets me with a proper hug and we hurry out of the rain. 'The office is really small', she tells me as we go up the stairs of the converted town house. The narrow staircase is exactly what you hope for in an old London building, rickety and spiralling in a thin vertebrae from the street to the roof. 'We share the building with like, three other companies, including the kitchen and bathroom, our actual office is tiny.' She is not exaggerating. The entire office fits into one second floor room, its roughly the size of my kitchen at uni, but with two desks, three chairs and a large window which keeps the inside cheerfully bright for most of the day.
One of my favourite things about publishing offices are the book displays. Shelves lined with books like trophies, memories of the work. Its incredible when you really think about it, I don't think that there are many other professions where you walk past a colleague's desk and instantly see exactly what they have done for the company in all the time they've been there. I recognise about 70% of the covers on Becky's shelf and I've probably read a third of them, not because I'm a ridiculous litophile, I've just done my research.
'You can work here', Becky says, pointing to one end of the desk, which for the next three weeks I am to share with the head of the company. 'Ben won't mind, and you can work on the spare laptop'.
So this is it. Two desks, two people. All you need for a successful agency apparently, and they ARE successful. The hands-on approach is apparently favoured by many clients who want a more personal approach that they might get at a larger company. At an agency like Fox Mason, the writers know their book is supported and prioritised by the agent throughout the entire process. If I was trying to get a book published, this kind of personal investment would be so important. A writer has to trust that their agent cares about their work as much as they do themselves, as they are involved with every aspect of its publication, from choosing titles to fighting for the absolute best deal they can.
I take a seat and moments later Ben arrives. He is younger than I had expected, immaculately dressed (the rain evidently not putting him off wearing an incredible velvet jacket) and as just friendly as Becky. When there's only two of you in the company, theres no room for office small talk and Ben and Becky seem genuinely buzz off each other's energy. They are rarely in the office together for long stretches of time but it seems that when they are it is an exercise in constantly catching up with what the other is doing, and making sure that they are both on the same page.
Becky has just come back from an extremely important meeting which will potentially result in Fox Mason adding another couple of zeros to their profit margin this coming year. I sit and listen as she and Ben debrief and discuss everything from guessing who her competitors are, to the way she used a disastrous O.J. spill to somehow charm the client. Their conversation is brief. Ben has to dash out again. He's taking an author to lunch to convince them to write another book. We both wish him luck.
Becky and Ben, I can remember those names. I also wasn't late. So far so good.