Well, this was nice! I haven't had such a close brush with fame since my kiss with Marty Wilde, aged 13 (me I mean, not him). Unless you count 15 minutes with George W Bush at Downing Street in 2003.* Which I don't. Marty and Jeff were both much nicer experiences.
What was really strange was when Jeff Goldblum offered to sign my programme for "Prisoner of Second Avenue" for me. Of course I said yes. But I had a tiny moment of hesitation and here's why:
You see, usually people ask me to sign things for them. Now, in case this sounds incredibly arrogant, I am speaking of book-signings at bookshops, festivals and schools etc. I have never had anyone stop me in the street and ask for an autograph. And I hope I never shall.
But because of my experience in this department, I have often mused on autographs and fame. I can understand someone liking to have their book signed by the author; I like that too and am lucky that many of my friends are also writers.
But the kids who come up with scraps of paper torn from exercise books - what does a signature do for them? Is it a brush with fame? Or perceived celebrity at least? If I saw one of my heroes or crushes in a public place I wouldn't dream of rushing up and asking for an autograph. The most I would do is wear a big soppy grin (see photo).
I would NEVER have bothered Jeff Goldblum for an autograph if I'd bumped into him in a restaurant, say. But since we had been introduced and he was asking ... Well, of course.
What do you all think about this? Writer friends who sign and non-writer friends and passers-by who collect autographs? And what do you do with them afterwards?
* I should like to make it quite clear no hugging or kissing took place on that occasion. Eww!
Showing posts with label celebrity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label celebrity. Show all posts
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
