Stranger than fiction

I have no idea why, but I've been having a lot of difficulty posting about the Daggers. I have no idea why, but I can't see how to go about it. I tried writing a travelogue-style post, but it bit the big hairy biscuit. So I tried something else, and it was poop-flavoured too. And a third time... And a fourth...

So I'm going to put on my serious trousers for a second and say that the rumours are true: I somehow managed to wheech off with a very unexpected Dagger on Thursday night. Which is especially surprising given the extraordinary quality of the shortlist. So convinced was I that there'd be no chance in hell I'd walk off with any silverware that I didn't even bother writing a speech. What a twit.

After the ceremony I got to meet the judging committee:

Dagger in the Library judges and some beardy bloke

(from left to right - Muriel Waldt, Miriam Bennett, Jonathan Gibbs, Kim Wallis, some beardy bloke brandishing stolen cutlery, Will Cooban, and that strange blob on the far right is Mark Benjamin's arm)

And they were all really, really nice people.

At the risk of coming off all Gwyneth Paltrow here I'd like to thank everyone at HarperCollins (especially my lovely editors Jane Johnson and Sarah Hodgson, and the incredible force of nature that is Amanda Ridout); my super Agent, Mr Phil Patterson (have monkey will travel); librarians everywhere; Random House (who sponsor the Dagger in the Library) and all the lovely, slightly-demented people who buy, borrow, and most importantly read books.

Right, that's enough sincerity: tomorrow we return to our cockroach-flavoured election special!

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