If Jordan can win a book award, so can I (Deborah Ross' Column)

If Jordan can win a book award, so can I

Prince Charles, Sting, Sarah Ferguson, Sophie Dahl, Anthea Turner, Kylie, Madonna, Ricky Gervais - all are now "children's authors."

As well as, of course, the Jordan that is Katie Price, whose book on pony care has been nominated for a WHSmith Award along with books by Ian McEwan, Khaled Hosseini and Doris Lessing, who said: "I wish I had thought of doing a book about ponies with a lot of pink in it."

Ms Lessing further added that if Jordan won: "I am sure she will accept the award gracefully on behalf of the ghost-writer who actually did all the work."

Meanwhile, she says she has no plans to upsize her own breasts or appear more regularly in OK!, "as I will be much too busy trying to think up a pink book with ponies in it of my own. The Grass Is Singing - I should have put more pink and more ponies in that. I can be such a fool."

Somewhat surprisingly, Gillian McKeith has yet to make an appearance as a celebrity children's author but this, apparently, will change in the autumn when Picador publishes: The Thick Little Chav And Her Stinky, Stinky Poo.

According to a Picador spokesperson: "We are all very excited about it. Of course, like all of the books in this particular genre, it will contain a blindingly obvious and sentimental moral message although, in this instance, it has nothing to do with self esteem and liking yourself for who you are, even if you are wet and look like a greasy pig with a squint and moustache.

"Gillian's will, instead, focus on the simple known fact that unless you eat your greens you will explode in the most unbelievable fireball of faeces."

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Our Non Domestic Goddess has some big plans to write celebrity children's books

Actually, people do say that writing for children is not as easy as it looks. That, at its heart, it can't just be about celebrity ego spillage. Perish the thought that it's simply a question of making up your own bedtime story for a child and then thinking: "I made this up. It's brilliant. I'm brilliant. I should get this published so that all the children of the world can experience a little of the brilliance that is me."

OK, so Heather Mills is "planning a series of books based on four-year-old Bea', but as Roald Dahl and Maurice Sendak and Dr Seuss and John Burningham and Shirley Hughes never said: "Good luck to the old slapper. Anyone can do this sort of thing, after all."

Neither did they add that the best thing about writing for children is that you can easily pull one over on them: "Basically, all kids are dumb. Left to their own devices, they'd drink Sunny Delight until their teeth dropped out and watch telly until their brains turned to mush.

"In fact, they are so delightfully easy to fool, you can even kid them into thinking you wrote something when someone else did it all. This is why we like writing for children."

Now, do I intend entering this particular market? You bet. However, having accepted it is not as easy at it looks unless you are Geri Halliwell (who has signed a six-book deal with Macmillan), or Darcey Bussell (who has been contracted by HarperCollins to write a picture book titled Ballerina Bear) I do intend to pace myself sensibly.

As such, I have decided - and I am going to be quite firm with myself about this - that I will only write three celebrity children's books this morning, five this afternoon, 19 after supper and 42 just before bed. (I accept that Madonna can manage 79 just before bed, which she can also illustrate while brushing her teeth and telling Guy what a loser he is, but she has been at it for quite a while now.)

This I accept, which is why, at least to begin with, I'm not going to attempt writing any while pulling on my socks, unless pressed (in which case I could probably deliver another 62).

My own story is Big Noses, which is in no way a rip-off of Madonna's English Roses, even though it may share the same arch, earnest tone and bloated, self-satisfied message.

Here, the heroine, who is in no way based on Madonna's Binah, is Ribenah. Ribenah is eight or nine, wet, and very ugly with big glasses and a ginormous hooter. Small wonder, then, that all the other girls in her class do not wish to play with her and even make a point of not playing with her. I must say, I am most proud of the scene in which Ribenah and her main tormentor, Sprite, finally confront each other.

This scene cost me so much emotionally that it took me almost all of a This Morning ad break - and two 'borrow money against your house, which we'll have for almost nothing the minute you die' commercials - to get it down on paper:

Sprite: "Ribenah, I don't want to play with you because you're wet, you wear huge glasses, your nose is really big and you have the beginnings of an unsightly moustache."

Ribenah: "Fair enough. I get where you are coming from. Oh, look! A pink pony!"

The moral here is that being beastly to loners is a no-no, unless they happen to have huge noses and wear big glasses, in which case, what can you do?

They are asking for it, basically. Hello? Wear smaller glasses? Get the nose done? Get a grip, stop being so wet and at least try to fit in.

The sequel, Ribenah Gets A Nose Job, will, I hope, help children realise that they do not have to accept who they are, particularly as being good-looking does tend to make everything OK.

Naturally, I have high hopes for my Ribenah series and its highly important message: inner beauty is not all it's cracked up to be.

Admittedly, I've yet to try them on my own children, but only because last time I told them a bedtime story, my ego spilled so excessively all over the sheets it quite ruined them. There may be a lesson in that, too.