Rowling for Concubine...

I've been possessed by the Muse lately and I've come up with a new and exciting story idea for a novel. So every morning I head out to the university library with my laptop and write my little heart out. I used to write in cafés but then I'd get really annoyed whenever kids came in to jabber and giggle. I learned to really despise happy Asian girls. Then I thought to myself, What a grump you've become. You're barely in your thirties and you're already sneering at cheery young people!

So I got hold of myself and switched to a venue that guarantees absolute quietness. Not only that, the university has a pretty damn good wireless connection. This is excellent, for whenever I'm stuck and need to do research, I simply hit "connect" and I've the world at my fingertips, not to mention all the real live books.

Speaking of cafés, (holy tangent, Batman) I got the café idea from my good buddy J.K. Rowling. OK, we're not really that close. But a couple of years ago, when I was inflicted by Potter-itus, I decided to take a little trip to Edinburgh, Scotland. I'd read some place that J.K wrote a good portion of the Potter books in Nicolson's Café. So, of course, that was my first stop.

I had just finished writing a novel and decided it would be super cool and nerdelicious to start the sequel in the same café J.K. began her billion dollar franchise. As I walked up the old wooden steps all I could think about was that J.K. had walked these very planks. Only then she was a big nobody like me.

I was a little upset to find that the café had become a slightly fancy restaurant, but that didn't stop me from asking the hostess which table J.K. called her own. The girl gave me that oh-dear-god-it's-another-freak look, but she was nice enough to point out several tables and even mentioned that J.K. had just been there the other night for a benefit dinner. I started trembling.

I sat down in the chair and looked out the window onto a furniture store and wondered how many times J.K. had done the same thing. And did she ever think of me? I kept turning around, waiting for her to come running in, saying, "There you are, my love, my darling American. Let's make beautiful stories together." I was prepared to offer myself up as a concubine, accepting a lower status in her happy home.

Needless to say, J.K. was a no-show and I never got the opportunity to become part of her male-harem. But I did write the first few pages of the sequel and I did drink a cappuccino and I did ask the hostess to take a picture of me.

Scroll down for a pic of Nicolson's café and one of me sitting in J.K.'s chair.