A few weeks ago I was scheduled to perform with my dance troupe at a local summer festival, when suddenly I got an opportunity to go to a con and promote myself a little. Since young writers should take advantage of those opportunities whenever they pop up, I went to my troupe director to beg off the show. She was very kind, and told the rest of the ladies that I was going out of town to be “a star.” Yikes! Me, a star? I don’t think so.
Most of the time, published writers aren’t the kind of people who have paparazzi hanging around their yards hoping for a candid shot. Except for a rare few like James Patterson and Stephen King, who sell books in the kazillions, most writers have relative anonymity and a day job to pay the bills. This is not to say I wouldn’t love to be a bestseller, God knows. Drawing millions of readers (and the financial compensation that would come along with that) would be a marvelous thing. I just fear I’d be lousy at being famous.
Ten Reasons Misty Would Make A Terrible Famous Person
10. I drive a little too fast for the safety of the paparazzi on the sidewalks.
9. I like to do my own grocery shopping. And cooking. Oh hell, just hand me that spatula and get out of my kitchen.
8. Car trips longer than an hour transform me into something inhuman. A private jet would not make it any better.
7. I would drive my trusted lieutenant crazy sending her out to buy me Cherry Twizzlers and Starbucks coffee.
6. I don’t have famous-person hair, so I could never get a product endorsement deal.
5. I babble when I’m nervous, which can lead to dreadful verbal disasters.
4. If Ashton Kutcher ever decided to punk me, he’d end up with a broken nose. I don’t like practical jokes. (Really, don’t take this as a challenge, because we probably won’t be friends when you’re done.)
3. I never know what to wear. Having more clothes in the closet would just make the decision take longer.
2. The yes-men that come along with fame and fortune would be entertaining for the first twenty minutes. Then I’d start throwing things at them to make them go away, and end up on the cover of The Enquirer.
1. I have the tendency to declare myself queen of the planet, and demand that everyone do as I say. This is not to imply that I’m NOT the queen, just that usually I’m a beneficent tyrant.
Being rich would be fantastic. Being famous…not so much. Most people want to be Madonna. I think I’d rather be Garbo.
** Disclaimer – The entire previous post was all for sillies, and Misty will be happy to accept fame and fortune at any point the universe decides to bestow it. 😀