If you were famous, why would you be famous?
Other than when I’m a tad manic, I’ve never believed (nor wanted) to write a book that catapults me into the realm of world-wide recognition and reward that J.K Rowling or E.L James inhabit, but I’d be lying to say I haven’t dreamed of writing a much-loved series of novels or an opinion-dividing trilogy of erotic fiction.
Ever since I was a child I’ve dreamed of being a writer, of publishing a book that is as loved as Matilda, as genre-defining as Moonheart or as poetic as Greenvoe. A novel that transports readers to another time and place, that touches their heart in ways they never thought possible and inspires them to follow their dreams no matter what anyone thinks of them.
I’ve dreamed of walking into a bookstore and seeing my name on the spine of a book and hoping that someone – anyone – loves that book in the way I cherish Quest for a Kelpie, Thirteen Reasons Why, The Hotel New Hampshire or Thongs.
If I could choose how I could be famous, being an author would be it, for it’s one of my oldest dreams.
But the reality is it’s unlikely I will ever achieve fame as a writer or, in complete honesty, anything.
If I were to become famous it would most likely be for another reason entirely. Something much quieter, much smaller, than anything most would consider worthy of world-wide fame.
Perhaps it would be for being an advocate for those members of society that the all-powerful middle class has deemed unworthy of having a voice; the mentally ill, the homeless, the poverty-stricken, the victims of abuse (both female and male). Perhaps for being someone who never gave up on his beliefs regardless of the perils he faced along the way. Perhaps for being someone who did whatever he could to help those less fortunate than himself, no matter the cost.
In many respects this fame would be preferred over that of being a writer.
For who wouldn’t want to be famous for helping the lives of others?