Sharon Krum, originally from Australia, is a freelance journalist living in New York City. She has written on topics as diverse as women on death row, cigar-smoking, and the life of budding starlet Natalie Portman. Walk of Fame is her first book.

Kiersten Marek: I read that you had trouble getting Walk of Fame published in the U.S., even after you published it in England and Australia and sold it as a screenplay. What do you make of this?

Sharon Krum: The experience of trying to get Walk of Fame published in the U.S. was almost comical and actually realised many of the themes in the book. My agent had no trouble selling it in England, Australia, Germany and Japan, but when it came to U.S. publishers, we heard the same thing over and over. This book is hilarious, we love this book, but we can't publish this book. Why? Because, they said, nobody has heard of Sharon Krum, and publishing comic novels is so dicey (unlike mysteries or straight fiction) that unless you have a brand name like Dave Barry or Carl Hiassen or "Anonymous," nobody will buy it. One editor said to my agent, if Jay Leno had written this, I would have it on the shelves yesterday. Guess what, my name is Jay Leno. I was screwed.

So we couldn’t find a publisher because I wasn't famous, and that is exactly what I was saying in the book. Fame sells things, and often they are junk. Monica Lewinsky's handbags, anyone? But there are really talented people who make great handbags out there who can't find a store to carry them. Why? They didn't have an affair with the President. That's the world we live in today. Fame is the currency, and I didn't have enough of it to move my book.

Thankfully there is a happy ending to this story. A brilliant young editor at St. Martin’s championed the book all the way to Barnes and Noble. He restored my faith in the publishing industry.

KM: Your main character in Walk of Fame, Tom Webster, is a would-be historian toiling his life away as a financial writer. Is this a comment on the fate of the modern intellectual under the pressures of capitalism?

SK: It was interesting to me how many people picked up on the history versus celebrity element. I love history, I read a lot of it, so to make my protagonist an amateur historian was a labor of love. What I wanted to do was create a safe haven for Tom when his fame careened out of control (with his books) and for him to have historical figures to relate to, and maybe draw solace from.

But the point was that as Tom retreated into historical biography it only made him feel worse about his own situation, because his historical heroes earned their fame, while he did nothing but work the system to create his.

I wanted to say that celebrity today is meaningless, and Tom knew it better than anyone, because he was an avid student of historical celebrities, who while famous, made serious contributions to their time.

KM: Could you comment on the experience of being born in Australia and later residing in the U.S.? Do you think you could write about Australian life as satirically as you write about American life in Walk of Fame?

SK: I have lived in New York City 12 years, so my allegiances to both America and Australia are very strong. When I was in Australia recently if anybody said anything anti-American I flew off the handle. The U.S. is home for me now, and I love it, although when you are born overseas you always have a piece of you there. I think being an outsider gave me a longer lens through which to view the American obsession with celebrity, and I grew up in a place where there was no celebrity industry (though there is now, it is small) so coming here and being thrust into it as a celebrity journalist was such a thrilling and amazing ride.

Certainly being an outsider gives you a different perspective and maybe because you are not as attached you feel license to satirize the culture. I know Bill Bryson wrote a hilarious book about Australia (he is American). Being a fish out of water has tremendous advantages as a writer, particularly of comedies. You pick up on every little nuance that a local may miss because it's too close.