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Princess Meg discovers a hidden weapon
YOUR Humble Narrator just met one of the world's best-known princesses. She was totally wild.
But before I tell you about her, considerthisfact.
There are books for guys. And there are books NOT for guys. I am going to take a massive leap of faith here, and bet that a novel called "Princess in Love" is not for guys, even though I haven't read it. (Just a wild guess.)
I had dinner with that book's author, Mcg Cabot, the night before writing this column. She's the global princess of teen romances, with 15 million books
in print. Titles include Forever Princess, Where Roses Grow Wild, Kiss the Bride and Princess in Pink -- all titles I have never coveted for the murder mysteries I write. I'm going to take another stab in the dark and wager that none of her books dislodge Muscle Monthly from my local gym.
What's a macho guy like me doing hanging out with the Goddess of Girlyness?
Well, here's a secret. The author of those ultra-frilly children's books isn't girly at all. She doesn't wear pink. She doesn't have children. She hasn't even
seen The Princess Diaries 2, the latest movie made from one of her books.
She's not demure or princess-ish at all, but is a clever, funny prankster with a sense of irony the size of a bus. "How much of a princess can I be, when I'm still the only one in my household who remembers to clean out the cat box?" she says, quoting one of her characters.
I reckon it's the fact that Mcg Cabot, 41, had to struggle for’15 years before achieving success that has saved her from being spoiled. She wisely sticks to Ernest Hemingway's advice for
authors dealing with Hollywood: "Drive to the border of California, throw your book over it, grab the cheque, and drive away as fast as possible."
My dinnerwith herwaspurely social, not an interview, so I'm not going to quote anything from it --except for one tale.
I asked her if she had ever tried talking to guys about her books. Her eyes widened as a grim memory bobbed up.
She'd once been on a book tour, she said, and had entertained her usual audiences of girls. Then she arrived at a school in Germany to find herself inex-
plicably booked to speak to a largely male teenage audience.
"I did my usual speech and the guys just looked at me as if to say, what on earth are you doing here, woman?" she said.
It was agony for both sides. The boys were eyeing the door, desperate to escape.
Suddenly she had a brainwave. "I'm going to tell you about my brother," shesaid. "Hehasguns."
The boys looked up.
She explained that her brother was a SWAT officer with a remarkable array of weapons, including one, which shoots invisible bolts of superheated air.
The boys hung on every word.
"Then I went on to the next school -- and the audience was all girls, again, thank God," shesaid.
The tales about her brother were genuine. (He probably hasn't read Princess in Love, not on duty, anyway.)
I told Meg she should widen her appeal among guys by writing books with weapons and explosions. "But use a pen name," I advised.
I'm hoping she uses "Nury Vittachi."
Comment on Meg Cabot at our columnist's website: www.vittachi.com.