Another day, another Model/Whatever has launched another “project.”
In the light of all this frenetic cross-career activity, I can’t help but wonder if real authors and real fashion designers, i.e. people who have slaved over their craft, studied hard and practised for years, are ever offended at the ease with which celebrities manage to slip into their careers?
Or whether brain surgeons are secretly relieved that no-one comes up to them at parties to say, “I’ve got a brilliant idea for brain surgery, do you wnat to hear all about it?”
I suppose Perez Hilton does, at least write, on his blog.
(He appears to draw more penis shapes and splashes of sperm, than he actually writes, but I do digress. Onwards. And yes, I do understand the irony in my criticising his writing style.)
One of the issues I have with celebrity “writers,” is the assumption that writing for children requires less skill and craft than any other form of literature.
Anyone (adult or child) who has read Roald Dahl, Kay Thompson, Noel Streatfield or even J.K Rowling (No Mark Twain, herself,) would, I am sure agree that children are excellent and deserving readers, who know a good. well-crafted and written story when they are read or read one.
But back to P. Hilton.
He does have a tale to tell: Of a little boy who is born different (with pink hair, natch) and who stuggles to fit in with his less follically challenged friends.
Of course, after a struggle here, and a life lesson here, Hilton’s story ends happily with pink-haired diversity embraced.
And one of the cardinal rules for first time authors is to write about what you know….
…and the premise of the book (though such a boring cliche, how many times must a child read this stuff, etc etc?) does not seem particularly harmful.
So long as it’s child readers don’t grow up to be bloggers who think it’s okay to draw penises and sperm on other children, I suppose.