Hey, listen. Each writer is different, and each reader is different, and all the people who don’t read or write are one and the same – a huge lump of unknown human potential, bleeding energy towards a messy, entropic ending.
No, seriously. Several times a month, I wonder what the hell I am doing. Family and friends ask me how the “writing is going”. I take a second to wonder what they mean, then reply with a smile and an emphatic head-nodding routine: “It’s great.” It’s more than great. It’s the reason I keep working on new ideas, putting out new books, attending critique sessions every week, and getting excited about the prospect of sharing stories. Of course, I don’t know what their measure of success is. And, annoyingly, I keep having this conversation in my head long after the question is out of the way.
To be clear: writing books is no money-making endeavour. Not this kind of books. The kind you pour your soul into, the kind that makes you obsess over a word that isn’t quite right (must find the right one), the kind that brings the world out of the darkness and into perspective. Gosh, it’s pathetic. Each book sold earns me between 30p and £3. How do writers survive? In short, they have other jobs, patrons who support their work, inherited property or savings. Or they’re incredibly lucky and sell thousands, or even millions, of books – on top of being talented, one would hope.
(William Shakespeare is apparently the best-selling author of all time, with an estimated 2 to 4 billion copies sold. Not during his lifetime. Although he was successful, playwriting alone paid modestly, so he also invested in a theatre to generate reliable profits.)
I’m not complaining. I didn’t start writing to make a living. I started because it brings me tremendous joy and fulfilment. Doing what brings you joy is a privilege in itself. Isn’t it amazing to have the time and inclination to write stories, instead of surrendering to despair, mental pain, death? Okay, that’s me on a bad day.
On a good day, I cook and invite people over for dinner.
No Small Talk – my new supper club in London
Writing is a solitary activity. To balance things out, I’ve decided to experiment with a new creative concept involving two of my favourite ingredients: words and food.
For several years, I’ve been organising literary dinners in London with friends and writers. I’ve always been a foodie, and one of my greatest passions is sharing good food, nice wine and ample conversation.
Now I’ve decided to expand the idea into a supper club and open it up to more people.
What can you expect from the No Small Talk Supper Club?
No small talk. Instead, a thought-provoking theme to guide and inspire the food, conversation and activities.
Eight people around the table.
One welcome drink. BYOB for anything else.
A starter, a main course, a side dish, and dessert. At least one savoury dish will be vegan, another vegetarian, and one pescatarian.
6.30pm arrival. Finish by 10pm.
£50 per person.
Location: my home, in North London. The exact address will be shared once you book.
Expect delicious food with Portuguese roots (but plenty of elements from other countries and culinary traditions), creative combinations, and a few short, organised activities involving words and books throughout the evening. These might include fortune canapés, fun quizzes, friendly debates, or my famously renowned poetry roulette.
Don’t expect matching crockery, pretentious French-sounding dishes, or any social interactions that could be mistaken for professional networking.
I’m planning the pilot dinner for January 2027, with the hope of turning it into a monthly event throughout 2027. Twelve dinners, twelve themes. At the end of the series, I’ll also write about the experience and publish a short book (format TBC: I’m not yet sure whether it will be fiction, a cookbook, or some weird, genre-bending novella).
If you’d like to register your interest, please complete the Google form on this page.
I’ll email you once the first dates are confirmed.
I look forward to it!
P.S. In the meantime, the Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of Valeria is an alien, my latest novel, is available to order – buy it now to receive a signed paperback, a cute bookmark with a gender-fluid bookworm, and/or a gender-positive digital poster with the e-book.
