Like every other kid who sang into a hairbrush, when I was still young, I wanted to be an entertainer. A singer, actress, talk show host who could also do gymnastics like Olga Korbut (yes, I am THAT old) and ride horses whenever I felt like it. The singing part wasn’t ever gonna happen and if you know me, I don’t even have to explain. The acting part meant I would have to audition - in front of people - uh, no. Gymnastics and horses required natural ability and well, a horse (which my father always nixed in the end after spending an entire summer visiting and considering the Bloomfield Open Hunt Club - huff and pouty face) and really that didn’t leave much else. Sometime in that era, I started writing and announced that I wanted to be a writer.
My writing portfolio has multiple layers containing the remnants of youthful, lovestruck and full -on gag worthy poetry, heavy handed short stories and sketches that are so image and metaphor rich that the reader was often left with a certain level of dissatisfaction and a big ol’ question mark in the thought bubble above their collective head, the driest of marketing and sales materials, dullest of nuclear power articles and an occasional letter to the editor meant to point out some inequity in our local world. I wrote a series of Beginning Guided Reading books for an educational program, a quarterly children’s newsletter, a collection of recipes and stories based on a region in the east and a youth fiction novel that my kids loved. In short, I have written a lot and so always got a great laugh from the throng of people who read my (admittedly funny) Christmas newsletter and responded with, “You should write!”
So, my book has been out for a little over a month and I am sick of myself. I have had to self promote on facebook (an action which asks me to post about ME) and every other social networking venue, I have had to announce and update my website and do interviews with local news outlets. I’m not complaining, mind you, just a little sick of talking about myself and I’m thinking that if I am that sick of myself, you guys must be really tired of me! And to make matters worse, there is a certain man in town who I used to lust after that, every time he runs into me in public, points, squeals and runs toward me shouting, “Oh My God!!!!!!! It’s Judi Coltman!” just because he KNOWS I will scowled (and blush a little). The last time that happened he was with someone who I have never met. This virtual stranger innocently inquired what had I done to elicit such a reaction (albeit a facetious one) and when former lustee said, “She just wrote a book and now she is famous!” the stranger stepped back, took a long look at me and replied, “Oh, sort of like Susan Boyle!” Hmmmm. Susan Boyle. That pretty much ended the conversation.
I hope to see many of you at the book signing at Hailey’s Winery on Friday, September 10, from 6-8 p.m. I promise I won’t sing.
Do you think he meant Susan Boyle BEFORE the makeover, or after?
Whatever, I’ll take it!