Fun and Fear in Edinburgh - Sue Purkiss

And so August's gone, and it's September. Thanks to the long hot summer, many trees are already turning copper and gold, and the gentle drift into autumn has begun.

August for me has had a metaphorical red circle round it, ever since way back at the beginning of the year when I received an invitation to take part in the Edinburgh Book Festival. For an author, this is a very big deal. For me, it was the biggest since, some years ago, my editor rang me up to say that one of my books, Emily's Surprising Voyage, had been longlisted for the Carnegie medal. With almost 900 authors taking part, Edinburgh has to be one of the biggest festivals - if not the biggest - in the world.

This is the Book Festival village - sadly, it didn't look quite like this while I was there: it rained!

Now, like many authors, I love being invited to do events. And, once the event is under way - when I'm there in front of the audience, and there's a buzz of excitement, and even, as at Edinburgh, children in the front row holding a copy of my book, Jack Fortune and the Search for the Hidden Valley - why, then, it's wonderful, and I love every minute of it.

But in between - ah, that's another matter. I suppose it's a form of stage fright. As the event creeps closer, a sort of nameless dread envelops you when you wake up in the morning. Startled, you wonder what's wrong - and then you remember. You're another day closer. To what? What are you afraid of? Drying up? Being so boring that everyone walks out? Forgetting the name of the book? Actually, you know none of that is going to happen - it never has. You know once you're there that you'll love it, but still the Fear is there, like the iceberg lying in wait for the Titanic. All you can do is acknowledge its presence, and carry on anyway. (Not good policy with the iceberg, but the only thing that works with the Fear.)

But this time, something else helped too. This is going to sound really twee. It was my character, the eponymous Jack Fortune. Jack is an adventurous, phsically courageous boy who wants to be an explorer. So when he finds that he's going to be heading off to the Himalayas in search of unusual plants with his Uncle Edmund - an unlikely adventurer, who's hitherto spent his life pottering about in a cosy study - he's in the seventh heaven.

However, when he arrives in the mountains, Jack discovers to his horror that he has a crippling fear of heights. And it's gentle Uncle Edmund who helps him through.

"Jack - Jack!" It was Uncle Edmund. His voice was clear and calm. "Come on, old fellow. You're doing very well, not far to go now. Just one step at a time: first your hand - that's it - and now your foot, then your other hand - that's the way, well done. Imagine you're climbing a tree in your aunt's garden - she's coming round the corner any minute, and you need to be up out of the way, so just keep going..."

So - one step at a time, just like Jack.

It worked.

Emma Carroll and myself signing books after our event.

But others also helped enormously to counter the Fear and transform it into fun. First, the organisers, who do everything they can to make authors feel welcome and relaxed, providing the famous yurt, where you can go to relax, to chat, to drink and eat, to meet other authors and book people, and of course to celebrity spot. (I saw Ian Rankin, Chelsea Clinton, Ruby Wax, and Yannis Varoufakis - who, just for the record, looks remarkably like my brother-in-law Mick. Plus, among others, Joanna Nadin, Candy Gourlay, Lari Don, Liz McWhirter, Elizabeth Wein, Jonathan Meres, crime writer Alex Gray, and of course Emma Carroll, with whom my event was shared.) And there was the audience, who were lovely and enthusiastic and asked great questions.

And then there were Linda Strachan and Lindsey Fraser (my agent), who were guides, mentors, and lovely friends - and of course Emma, who was so relaxed about the whole thing and made me feel that way too. Plus all the friends whose ears I'd bent before I got anywhere near Edinburgh, and who made kind soothing noises and didn't once snort, "Stop complaining and think yourself lucky!" - as they would have had every right to do. You're all brilliant.

And so was Edinburgh! I came away buzzing, and so glad I had the chance to go.

Jack on sale in the Edinburgh Festival bookshop, next to a certain Mr Pullman...