Carole was a good friend of mine, but then she was a good friend to many people. A wonderful woman, who worked harder than almost anyone I know but who played hard too; who always was available to help and support her friends, her colleagues and clients, and writers, too.
I was at the York Festival of Writers with her a few years ago: we were both speaking there. In a break between events we went to the ladies' loos together and there was a long queue, which we joined. An aspiring writer spotted Carole (she was difficult to miss: platinum blonde hair, bright purple clothes, statement jewelry) and hurried over, and started pitching her novel to Carole.
Carole was gracious and polite and friendly and suggested another time would be better, but the writer persisted. As the queue kept moving, the writer kept with us, pitching away and all the time Carole was polite, friendly. And then we got to the cubicles and I thought the writer might at last stop but nope, on she carried, pitching and pitching, and when Carole went into the cubicle the writer stood outside the cubicle and carried on with her incredibly long, detailed and dull pitch.
I had had enough. I told the woman she was being inappropriate and should go away now, and the woman argued with me, and carried on. And it was only when Carole came out of the cubicle and said she'd heard enough that the woman left her alone.
And then there was another and another and another, all sorts of people wanting something from her, and going about it in entirely the wrong way, and all the time she remained polite and engaged and friendly.
At the end of the day Carole and I sat down in a quiet corner of the bar, each of us with a glass of wine, and I told her that I could not put up with the sort of day she'd had, with people pecking away at her all day long. And often not grateful for her kind advice. And she gave me The Look (when you've had The Look from Carole Blake you know it!) and said that she had been given so much from publishing that it was only fair that she gave something back, and that all these writers were desperate to be heard and that while she couldn't represent most of them, she could at least hear them out. It was something she could do to make them believe that publishing was the exciting, vibrant and inclusive business that she knew it to be.
And if you look on Facebook or Twitter now you'll see so many people leaving tributes to her, telling people how kind she was to them, and how much she'll be missed, and every word of it is true.
If you'd like to do something to honour Carole, or remember her, buy some books. It doesn't matter which books you buy (although obviously, books from her client list would be a good idea!), just buy some books.
