It’s my second year as curator of the Folkestone Book Festival, and as the programme goes to press, I finally get to take a deep breath. The puzzle pieces have slotted into place. The increasingly urgent emails, the hopeful “reaching out” to people I admire, the handful of rejections, and so many wonderful surprises – all of it has finally come together.
And yet, when people hold the programme in their hands, what they see is only the tip of the iceberg.
This year, perhaps more than any other, that metaphor feels especially apt. In May, I disappeared for two weeks – quite literally off the grid – as part of an epic creative residency in the Arctic Circle. No phone signal. No WiFi. Just a schooner slicing through frozen seas, amid eerie endless daylight, as I grappled with ideas for my third novel.
Back in sun-soaked Folkestone, when I returned to the office, my inbox was waiting. A festival doesn’t pause just because you’re in the polar north.
Coming back online after that Arctic silence was like surfacing into fast-forward. In those two weeks, things had shifted. One long-confirmed speaker had cancelled. A conversation I’d been quietly hopeful about for months suddenly roared into life. And so continued the familiar, exhilarating, chaotic dance of curating a live programme: more than 50 events (up from 38 last year), and the slightly unhinged choreography of almost 100 individual people’s clashing schedules.
Programming a festival is never just about filling slots. It’s about finding the right voices, the timely conversations, the unexpected pairings that might make an audience member sit forward in their chair and say, “I hadn’t thought of it like that.” (People still stop me on the street to happily recall my pairing of Pablo Escobar’s son with Boris Johnson’s daughter at my first festival last year.)
A good literary festival reflects the full spectrum of the world we’re living in – politically, socially, culturally – while also offering moments of pure escapism, joy, beauty and hope. It’s about range: the intimate memoir alongside the big political debate; the emerging debut beside the international bestseller; the family event buzzing with children’s laughter and the workshop led by a Booker Prize winner, where one person might powerfully unlock their own writing voice.
Above all, it’s about people. Folkestone is a community full of creative energy, strong opinions and enormous generosity. The festival is shaped by those who live here and those who travel in to be part of something special. As a not-for-profit arts organisation, Creative Folkestone’s mission is rooted in service – making space for conversations that are accessible, diverse and meaningful, while never losing sight of the sheer fun of it all.
For me, in this role, there are always moments of quiet panic. The last-minute gaps. The “will they or won’t they” responses. The curveballs (and there have been a few this year). But then comes the moment when an author you’ve long admired says yes. When the schedule finally clicks. When you witness the buzz as this year’s themes – from justice to joy, identity to imagination – ripple through the audience.
And now comes the part I love most: letting my vision loose – watching as the programme goes into the world, into your hands. It’s a moment of reckoning, and of listening. Have I taken the temperature of the town? Have I caught its mood, its questions, its pulse?
That’s your call. You’ll have a whole summer ahead to pore over the events, make your plans, and book your tickets for what promises to be another magical autumn here in Folkestone. Stories are waiting. Conversations are ready to begin.
And I can’t wait to be part of them with you.
— Sophie Haydock, Curator, Folkestone Book Festival 2025