I COULD wax lyrical about this new era of ‘celeb writers’ but I won’t.

Even though some of them are headlining lit fests with the stipulation that they aren’t ‘to be questioned too much on their writing process’ (because someone else has written the blimming book for them – ha!).

There is nothing we can do in our world about the onslaught of them, same as the boxing world can’t do anything about the Youtubers taking over the sport.

My did you see Joey Essex last weekend, ‘boxing’ like a drunk in a kebab shop. Not a defensive glove in sight. I digress.

I had a wry smile at Roman – son of Spandau Ballet legend Martin – Kemp this week who was gobsmacked when only two people turned up at his book signing.

Grossly outnumbered by the security pack he had with him. That certainly highlighted the difference between them and us because we are never gobsmacked when that happens, even us seasoned authors.

But celebs just aren’t used to no-one turning up when they make an appearance and it must have been a proper eye-opener. People turn up primarily at a celeb book signing for them, for us they turn up for the books – so it often takes us years to build up a following.

But it made me remember some of the more memorable signings I’ve done in the early days. Turning up at a supermarket once and being shown to an empty table by the entrance. ‘Do you think I could have some books on it?’ I asked. ‘Erm… what sort would you like?’ came the reply.

And another where a man picked up the poster of me sitting on my table, looked at it and asked ‘Who is she?’ ‘A local author,’ I replied.

He put the poster down. ‘Never heard of her’ and walked off. It can be a long, humiliating hour sitting in a shop silently praying for people to buy instead of walking past you as if you were one of the less presentable ones in an Amsterdam ‘shop window’.

I have acquired the art of the fixed smile hiding the agony.

The celeb writers don’t need to work their way through the lean years, they have a guaranteed audience wanting a selfie. Usually, anyway. So poor old Roman saw first-hand what it’s really like to be a jobbing author, no wonder he was mortified. But at least he had his security to talk to.

We make do with the company of the tumbleweed blowing across the shop. At my first ever signing there was just me and a rep – no-one turned up. I thought: ‘at least this is going to be as bad as it ever gets’. A small, but valid, consolation.

For authors like me, writing books is our life, it’s not a by-product of a flashier celeb lifestyle. I laughed aloud this week reading about another celeb who has written a book – all her own work obvs – while doing her full-time job and bringing up her small kids.

When I had small kids I didn’t have enough time to shave both legs in one sitting, so you can smell the heady scent of merde de bull from a hundred paces. If she wrote that book, I’m Meryl Streep.

Anyway, I’ll plod on because I’m not fit for anything else. Presumably the celebs want to join the world of books because they think it’s even more glam than their own starry lifestyles. Oh if only. As old Roman has seen this week, the sparkles for us are few and far between. That’s why, when you see me at signings, I really, really am pleased to see you all. It’s no act!