YOU have to admire Kirkland Ciccone's determination to become famous.

Fifteen years ago he bought a copy of The Adventures of Tiger Tim, based on the life of Radio Clyde legend Tim Stevens' Life.

But it was purchased in the hope the author (me) would one day spot Kirkland in a coffee shop reading the book – and interview him.

Now, the 31-year-old's wish has come true. We're in a Glasgow cafe and Kirkland is indeed being interviewed.

He's not just a perfect example of modern day fascination with fame, an attention seeker.

He's a talented, instantly likeable writer whose first novel, Conjuring The Infinite, has now been published.

Set in a youth offenders' institute for black magic, it's a cracking read, revealing a world of sorcery, supernatural powers, with a good mystery thrown in.

"How do I describe Conjuring The Infinite?" says Kirkland, when the question is thrown in his direction.

"It's The Breakfast Club Versus Satan, or One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest meets Blair Witch Project. Writing cool young adult fiction is what I've been put on Earth to do – that and drink lots of tea.

"I just love the process of writing a book. I can't wait to hear what I'm going to say. But I like to think I'm the sort of author I'd want to have read if I were a teenager."

Kirkland Ciccone (real name Paul Kirkland) clearly has a sense of humour – the fact he's borrowed Madonna's surname is an indicator.

But this young man didn't emerge from some pink palace in Hollywood.

He was brought up in a council house in Cumbernauld, ("The ugliest town in Britain, but it's got lots of character").

"My mum is a single parent, my dad walked out on us, and I've got two brothers and two sisters," he says.

"My oldest sister is a social worker. The second oldest is a lesbian. My older brother was a failed armed robber – he's out of prison now – and my younger brother worked in a brickyard, which is why he looks much older than me."

KC's world was not full of sunshine. "Wait 'til I write my biography," he says, grinning.

"But it's an interesting backdrop. My mother tried to hold down three jobs and still get to the odd game of bingo.

"When she won, which wasn't often, she'd come home with fish suppers.

"But my younger life saw me dumped in the library. That meant I sat reading for the longest time, but it was great, reading Roald Dahl books and stretching the imagination."

He admits he stood out at school.

"I felt I should have been middle-class," he says laughing.

"I was in the wrong movie. I remember once wearing red, shirt, yellow jeans and blue trainers to school. I was a wee human rainbow. This was before my Goth days.

"Once, someone laughed at me but I told my big brother – and the next day the laughing boy was so nice to me."

When he left school he did a journalism course.

"I never took it to a full degree. I was better at creative writing, so when I left college I did open mic nights and poetry readings.

ONCE I supported Liz Lochhead. And I did a show called The Dead Don't Sue, about classic movies and actors.

"It was brilliant and I dressed up in platform shoes and a Dr Who scarf.

"After that I became a psychic consultant, going round houses in the Gorbals with my sister for protection."

He adds, grinning: "The funny thing is I never felt I had any psychic powers, but some of my card readings came true.

"Then I got into fringe theatre. I appeared in Falkirk, with a show called The History of Falkirk, and that sounds fine, except I knew nothing about local history. The title was an excuse to get people in the door. I was then commissioned to do something similar at Cumbernauld.

"I dressed up as a sailor and swore at the audience, but it worked – once the audience realised the show was all about Kirkland, and very funny."

He admits he never stops trying to grab the limelight.

"I've always felt that signing autographs would be better than signing on. And I've always wanted to be a published author; none of that self-publishing nonsense.

"So I took to the cafes to write, trying to look all J.K. Rowling Bohemian, but then I realised Beanscene and Costa were full of writers so I didn't look different.

"I gave that up, went home to write – and seven months later I'd finished."

The content ("for cool teens and their cooler parents") was informed by Kirland's teen influences and horror movies and landed a deal with Strident Publishing.

He said: "The publishers liked the fact I was prepared to lay down in front of trucks to get noticed. Most writers sit in the background. That's not me."

It certainly isn't. And his mum is excited.

"It's better boasting about me than talking about the armed robber in the family," he admits.

This week at his Waterstones book launch he's going to turn up wearing a big gold cloak and wearing a crown.

The writer-performer's next task is to get the book into festivals, which is difficult for a first-time author but somehow you sense Kirkland will manage.

This week he appeared at Cumbernauld Theatre with his show, Irritable Vowel Syndrome, "talking about books, and my other favourite subject, me."

He adds: "I am Kirkland Ciccone. I'm tired of being Scotland's best kept secret. And, as one author to another, I am open for book business."