Do you remember your first time? I do. The corridors of Hall 8 at the Frankfurt Book Fair were rammed with air-kissing publishers, shrieks of recognition and whispers of gossip I didn’t remotely understand. I thought they were all terrible show-offs and swore I’d never be one of them. But now that I’ve happily given myself up to the dark side, I’m pouring myself a glass of champagne, greeting you with a ‘mwah’ and offering the eight tips I think you need for your first Frankfurt. I’m going to assume you know the basics usually covered by this sort of guide — drink plenty of water, wear comfortable shoes — and focus on the things I wish I’d known back in the day.

1. Book Appointments Before The Fair
Rights people from the major publishers will be fully booked up for Frankfurt from the middle of July. That means 9am-6pm every day with no lunch breaks. Editors’ schedules are a little less punishing, but still pretty busy. So attending the Fair in the hopes of getting a chance meeting with someone you aren’t already acquainted with is not likely to work. And accosting someone in the five minutes they have spare between meetings is rarely a popular move. If you have a query but no appointment you may find it best to ask staff at reception on the relevant stand if you may leave your business card for the appropriate person — write your query on the back of it, and expect an answer after the Fair.

2. Know Where Your Meetings Are
If your schedule has you running back and forth from Hall 8 (where all the English language publishers are based), to Hall 6 (where the Agents’ Centre is), you had better be prepared to be a) late b) exhausted c) greeted somewhat frostily by those who have been waiting for you for fifteen minutes of a thirty-minute appointment. Try and arrange your schedule so that you are in the Agents’ Centre in the morning, and Hall 8 in the afternoon, or vice versa. Or else you will really need those comfortable shoes.

3. Be Culturally Aware
I’m not talking about being PC here, but do learn a little about how to greet people. For example, the Dutch kiss three times, the French tend to kiss just on greeting, not on departing and Americans kiss just once (if you know them) but may unexpectedly grab you in a hug. And best not to kiss Germans unless you know them well already. Business cards are important to Japanese people, so you must receive a card from them with two hands, and look at it properly — don’t just grab it and shove it aside.Try to remember this sort of thing to avoid uncomfortable clinches or flinches.

4. Do Some Homework
Don’t go pitching misery memoirs to someone who only buys literary fiction. Do some homework beforehand and pitch accordingly. If you are really stuck, ask them roundabout questions before you start pitching — have you bought anything big recently? What’s been doing well on your list? If you’re buying, make sure you’re seeing the right people — they may have sent you a delightful email asking for an appointment, but do you really want to meet that Dutch publisher of encyclopedias when you could have been seeing a hot US agent instead?

5. What Is The Book of the Fair?
Everyone will ask you if you’ve heard about The Book of the Fair. Don’t panic — if they’re asking it’s because they don’t know what it is either. Turn the tables by asking other people first. But the last few Frankfurts have been devoid of a truly huge book that every publisher is fighting over, so you’re probably safe with ‘It seems fairly quiet this year, don’t you think?’

6. Deal With Your Hangovers
With 2am considered an early Frankfurt bedtime, just accept that you’re going to have one — possibly every day if you’ve really been larging it. If you know you need five coffees before you can face the world, don’t schedule meetings for 9am (it’s hard to forgive someone who stands you up for the first appointment of the day). If you feel like you may be sick, a polite email or text excusing yourself is infinitely preferable to being forever remembered as the person who threw up in a meeting (you know who you are…). Ultimately you are here for work, and even if you’re up until four, you still have to be charm itself in your first meeting.

7. Avoid The Frankfurt Flu
You will probably be shaking hands with at least 100 people over the course of the Fair and no matter how delightful your customers, there are going to be some germs exchanged. If you know you’re susceptible, try taking zinc, vitamin C and echinacea before and during the Fair. If you’re a little more paranoid, some people swear by antibacterial handgel applied after every meeting (but it’s probably best to wait until your customers are out of sight before reaching for the bottle…).

8. Enjoy It
Though it is accepted form to dread Frankfurt from July onwards and to moan about it for weeks afterwards, once you’re on the treadmill just give yourself up to it and have fun. The first time is the worst — next year you’ll be air-kissing and shrieking along with the rest of them.

I used to have an hour-long commute, have always been hopelessly incompetent at getting up in the morning, and detest plastic-packed sandwiches so, considering myself the perfect candidate, I left my office-bound job two years ago. Ok, I was going to write a book and that’s not the easiest task to combine with full-time work but, at the same time, I would work as a freelance editor and proofreader to earn some money. I’m not sure what I loved most, the lack of ‘tube hands’…those filthy, cold-infested fingers that mean you spend half your waking life sniffing and coughing, the fact that I could reach my desk in minutes not hours, or the very small number of emails I had to deal with on a daily basis.

But once I’d written the book and freelanced for a year and a half, the work petered out for a few weeks, then a few months. The only person who needed to speak to me urgently was the bank manager; no one had ‘much on’, a phrase frequently voiced by in-house editors, and I started to wonder how I’d get through the winter. Then someone offered me a short-term contract back in the office. Even though I was broke, it took me a while to decide if this was a good idea. I wasn’t earning much but I was happier, thinner (ever noticed how much you eat in an office? Don’t believe that myth about working from home and the proximity of the fridge; office boredom holds far more of a threat for your hips) and I had time for a social life instead of rolling in at 8pm and worrying about what I’d forgotten to do that day. Independence and insolvency fought it out in my head for a few weeks but insolvency won. I went back.

I didn’t expect to enjoy it; this would be a temporary fix whilst I sorted out my finances. But I did, I do. I found that giving up some sleep and getting in on time made me less, not more, tired. Making my own sandwiches took away the bagel/sandwich/soup debate and saved me some money too. And, instead of expending energy on moaning about the number of emails, I spend it on dealing with them, though I confess that having several is still a novelty after two years of five or so a day. I like having colleagues, getting dressed up instead of resorting to the same pair of jeans, and, yes, having a structured routine. My desk at home looks forlorn and sad now, forgotten under a heap of bills. Right now, returning to it later this year doesn’t seem a very tempting prospect.

Returning to an office, though, after a long stretch away has given me a different perspective on its ills. I now realise that it’s not work that makes me irritable, it’s everything that is supposed to help me do my work. Technology, for starters, or its failings. Databases that crash because they’re incompatible with the printer you need to use with them. Computers that only certain people are allowed to access, and for which you need a new login (which in itself requires approval from a higher authority and an afternoon of form-filling-in). A voicemail system which is so labyrinthine that you need a crib sheet to remember the commands. Sometimes a working day feels like an extended Eddie Izzard sketch…control P print, control P print…the computer can’t see the printer. But why not, it’s right there, I can see it, why can’t you see it?

Then there’s the misuse of equipment, and our colleagues, for which we are all guilty. Sending a 400-page document to print then not bothering to go and fetch it, check for misfeeds or load new paper. Expecting whoever organised a meeting to bring agendas, when everyone can access a printer (well, most of the time…). Not updating a distribution list and unnecessarily bothering someone with an irrelevant email. In an office getting down to work is often a blessed relief after everything else.

Imagine, I keep thinking as I insert my fingers into the depths of the nasty metal parts of the photocopier, how much better the working day would be without all this. Imagine, more to the point, how much shorter it could be. I’m not the only freelancer who finds that five, or at most, six hours is all that’s possible when working from home and that’s because in those hours that’s all I do, work, head down over my proofs or my computer. If my printer doesn’t work, I fix it myself in a few minutes, instead of waiting for a response from IT. If I attend a meeting, I know I will have a role, that I’ve not been invited ‘just in case’ I’m needed. If I want milk in my tea I buy it, I don’t fill in a form. In the office, in between the meetings, the technology and the bureaucracy I’m lucky if I manage four. No wonder everyone ends up working late.

It’s probably, so far, the only thing I miss about freelancing full-time, the shorter day. The ability to go to the gym as well as have an evening out, not one or the other, the time to cook real food, not re-heat something in a plastic box, the chance to see daylight in December.

I’m starting to think that if the obstacles in a working day were removed or better managed, then the minimum of a seven-hour day would suddenly seem far too long, a con, counterproductive. There would be less incentive to downshift and raise pigs, to change jobs, to freelance if working in an office wasn’t so time-consuming. If that’s not a good reason to improve systems, simplify bureaucracy and train staff in better meeting, email and office management, I don’t know what is.