We all have our idols in life, usually representing what we aspire to, those who conjure up a moment in our lives, provide a backdrop as we grow and a blueprint for our better selves.
But at the same time, it is a relief when they demonstrate that actually they are just human and sometimes slip-up – or in this specific case, commit an impulsive act of graffiti.
JK Rowling has played a huge role in my life as an inspiration. Her work ethic and talent speaks for itself and her success is utterly deserved. I am even envious of her sharp, epic, tweeting skills. Her put-downs alone are worthy of a bow. The utter epic achievement of completing her Harry Potter series alone, will hopefully justify her gleeful scribbling on the back of a hotel room bust – an act of vandalism conducted nine years ago on completion of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Frankly her note, no doubt worth a fortune to the Balmoral Hotel itself, was a fairly modest celebration. Most authors , I’m sure, would have downed three bottles of champagne and some shots, stripped off and run down the corridor naked. But since JK’s tweeted confession my respect has shot up threefold.
This is despite her portrayal of us (poor, misunderstood, sob) journalists with her work. Now, while I realise, we are less popular than estate agents with caricatures of the most disreputable of our profession appearing in every British primetime soap opera, I cannot think of a single one of my colleagues who would lock up an interview subject in a cupboard for an interview like Rita Skeeter or produce an article of such fiction about a subject, in Rita’s case poor HP.
But as an aspiring novelist (aren’t we all?) JK is evermore my hero. Despite my house being held up by my heaving bookshelves, it is to her works I turn when I need to entirely escape from the world I live in. The crinkled (from the bath) pages testament to my dedication to Harry and lately Cormoran Strike.
Although I totally need one of those Quick Quote Quills.