So, my first novel has been out on Amazon for four days now and here’s what I’ve learnt.

People like a paperback. As in, they really like a paperback. Frankly, the hell with the ebook and its terribly convenient tree-friendliness. There’s just something about a book you can hold.

I have a theory on this. It’s the smell. Not terribly original, I know. But the smell of a book is one of the finest things in all the world. Perhaps there’s a smidge of the reality of a book you can hold. Maybe my saying I’ve written a novel only makes sense when there’s a collection of pages held together by cover and spine to make it seem less ridiculous.

A friend of mine, a total sweetheart for whom I have nothing but time, said she would love to read my book, but only when it’s in paperback form because – she “prefers a real book”.

I didn’t say it.

I wanted to.

But that would have been wrong.

Even an ebook, even a new, only-out-on-Friday ebook, is a real book.

But I didn’t say it. I blathered for a while about the relative complexity of working out the dimensions for a paperback book. I’ve never really had a talent for maths. Plus, I knew I’d have to get onto my cover designer to upgrade my gorgeous ebook cover into a full-wrap whatnot, with spine and back matter. (She’s doing that today)

On the plus side, not going doolally about ebooks actually existing has brought the possibility of two book groups taking on my book for their late summer reading.

I didn’t realise book clubs actually read books. I only know what I’ve seen on TV – child of the eighties, you understand.

On TV, the book club meets to drink copious amounts of wine and complain about their husbands. Not so the reality. Apparently.

They read. But if drinking and complaining needs a book to go with it, by happy accident, I think it might be mine.