When I looked into submitting my books to an agent I read hints and tips in the Writers' and Artists' Yearbook.
One of the wonderful tips was this: Try to find something you have done that would entice an agent by its absurdity and then exaggerate it.
In my book, currently in edit, there are several examples I could have used. Interviewing Seb Coe, could have been 'I took on a world class athlete and had the last word'. Meeting Gareth Gates in a motorway service station could have been, 'My sing off with X Factor finalist', but you know, at the end of the day, wouldn't any clued up agent just think, Here we go again!
My favorite however would have been my headline, which actually happened without any exaggeration!
I was at the Lane, Bramall Lane to be exact, the home ground of Sheffield United, the Blades, sitting in my usual seat in the South Stand. Around me, all the usual season ticket holders. Blades on the attack, in the penalty area. In comes an opposition defender to wipe out our striker.
Up I leap. Penalty! I shout.
Simultaneously, the guy directly behind me jumped up, waving his arms furiously. My head struck his on the front of his forehead and he fell back to his seat.
Of course I turned to apologise and to hope that he was OK.
My son, sat alongside me, muttered to me not to look round. It's Paul Dean he said.
Who? Who's that?
I turned.
The guy behind me was dressed scruffily and wore a peaked cap pulled low over his eyes. almost as if he was trying to hide.
Paul Dean was Sean Bean, and I had misheard my son.
Oh shit, I thought. I have just nutted Sean Bean. I tried to apologise again, but only towards the pitch, and quietly. I could not move for the rest of the match. No exaggeration necessary. I head butted Sean Bean.
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