The worst statement a celebrity can make when confronting, say, the police, is, “Do you know who I am?” Instead, they should say, “I hope you don’t know who I am.” But some celebrities think the world is their bubble and everyone knows them.
I’m hardly a celebrity. My bubble is a speck. Case in point, I had just enjoyed attending a conference where I felt hundreds of people knew me, or at least knew of me. Reality was but an hour and a hundred steps away.
Checking out at 5 a.m., I asked the hotel clerk, “You won’t charge me a late departure fee, will you?”
Instead of chuckling or hinting at a smile, he deadpanned, “No.”
“I was just making a joke since it’s so early.”
The clerk offered a solemn nod.
As my receipt printed, I thought, Ummm, it’s 5 a.m. Don’t you want to feel better simply by smiling? Guess not. Gone were my friends willing to laugh at all my flimsy jokes. So, if I tell a Dad joke, is it considered a Mom joke? No matter the label, I love that my friends laugh at my jokes. They know who I am.
Soon, I ventured to the curb to wait for my Uber to arrive. A young blonde strode up to await her ride.
“Were you here for the conference?” she ventured.
“Yes.” Early in my career, I learned to only depart from any conference with full makeup and hair in place, so I thought she might recognize me.
“What do you write?” she wanted to know.
I held back a chuckle since I hadn’t been asked that question in some time. “I’m an agent.”
No sign of recognition.
“Tamela.” That usually helps. I don’t think I’m Cher; but introducing myself as “Tamela Hancock Murray” seemed obnoxious in context.
Still no sign of recognition. I don’t think all three names would have helped.
At least I was able to answer a few questions for her. She was starting out and not ready for an agent. I can understand why a new author not intending to talk to agents wouldn’t press the “Agent Appointments” tab on a website and learn about agents. Wanting to offer encouragement, I welcomed her to add me to her list of agents to submit to when she’s ready. Perhaps I should have suggested she label her work “Curbside Author,” so I’d know who she was.
Entering my Uber, I texted my husband, the only person to whom I send kiss emojis.
I remembered the many servings of perfectly prepared filet mignon I’d consumed all week. Yum! So, during the conversation, I asked about his thoughts regarding lunch.
“Leftover BBQ and fresh buns.”
Back to the real world where I belong. I smiled all the way to the airport.
Novel Writing Craft: And the Conflict Continues
I learned to turn them on at will,
the grey man and the bon vivant,
the one who is reptilian, still;
the other not, seemingly can’t.
With the first you might just board
an empty lift, you two alone,
and if you were queried later,
you’d swear you had been on your own.
The other you could not forget,
the fount of every jest and jibe,
the author of each chance and bet
who made you glad to be alive.
Both would come and both would go,
but who I am you’ll never know.
Writing at 4am…sheesh.
Second quatrain should have been:
With the first inside an elevator,
an empty space, you two alone,
and if you were queried later,
you’d swear you had been on your own.
Ah, well.
To lift the mask—
To ask,
To see
(Not quite demand)
the man,
It’s he—
with clever slight-of-hand,
And bold
Disguises soul,
Deflects his pain—
Just study his legerdemain,
And read between, around, the lines
His heart within his poems you’ll find.
Yes! That’s Andrew!
Ugh! I find the “Don’t you know who I am?” question so off-putting. But your story was adorable. I can recall years ago when I didn’t even realize that an author needed an agent. Oh, the bliss of ignorance!!
I’m glad you enjoyed your Uber ride to the airport. Hopefully there was still some leftover BBQ and fresh buns when you arrived home.
Indeed, “Don’t you know who I am?” is so off-putting! The worst. I’ve heard it many times over the years while on the job.
Tamela, your post made me smile. I attended my first writers conference in 2019 as a newbie writer. In line for lunch one day, I spoke to a man in front of me, asking if he was enjoying the conference. I made idle chitchat, which was a stretch for this introvert.
I later learned he was Steve Laube. Yes, THE Steve Laube! LOL I had no idea who he was at the time or what a big deal he was in the industry. Looking back, I’m grateful I didn’t know. I would have been so nervous.
And now, only four years later, I’m represented by his agency. Isn’t God amazing?
You’re a rock star to me! I enjoyed your humorous post.
I remember my first conference. It was huge and overwhelming. There were over 6,000 writers in attendance. I filled my days with workshops, meet and greets, pitches, and special luncheons hosted by amazing guest speakers. BUT, I was so overwhelmed, I spent the majority of my time in my hotel room. Although, I researched agents and editors and pitched, there were many publishing professionals I came across who I had no idea who they were. After attending several smaller conferences over the years I realize I need to recharge a lot. I’m sure there are many attendees who are overwhelmed.
On another note, about four years ago, I accepted an invitation to a meet and greet with a well know, and very prolific author. We were to meet at a restaurant with many of her readers. I was nervous at the thought of being around strangers. I had gone through a tough period of my line closing and not finding another line to call home. I felt like a nobody in the writing industry and having lost a spouse years earlier, I had been going through an identity crisis. I was no longer a wife(hadn’t been in three years) and my kids had all grown up with their lives, so, I was no longer a mom in the sense I had been for over 20 years. I didn’t know who or what I was, and I been struggling with finding myself for a while. And I certainly didn’t consider myself an “author”. After all who was I, a one-hit wonder (at that time I had four books published) without a large reader base. I knew I wanted to be an “author” and I wanted to see how this known author interacted with her readers so I could learn, but I also wanted to meet her personally. I walked into the crowded restaurant, a lady asked me if I was there for so-and-so, and before I could answer, another lady, who I’d never met before, said “Oh, this is Christina Rich. She’s a Love Inspired author.” I needed that at that moment. I needed to be reminded that I was an author, and I was somebody. I had identity outside of the world I’d known before. I never expect anyone to know who I am, and I don’t announce it, rather allow it to come out of the conversation IF it arises.
Ironically, a year later, I had to write a college paper for a critical writing and reading class on “What is an Author?”
God has a way of humbling us, doesn’t He? Had it been me standing there on the curb, I would have recognized you immediately, being a member of ACFW and having seen your picture so many times in this blog. You handled that wonderfully.
I could absolutely relate to jokes falling flat, and trading one world for another.
I’ve only been recognized as the author of my miscarriage book once. The bank teller saw my name and put two-and-two together. She dropped my book through the drive-through deposit drawer and I signed it for her. LOL.
Another woman heard about my miscarriage and recommended my book to me.
Thus ends my fame.
Early in my scientific career, I had the best lesson in fame and humility when I was sitting at a lunch table alone, at a scientific conference. An older, frumpy looking woman sat down next to me, smiled and introduced herself as Gertrude. I was annoyed, because I was hoping to meet some famous, important people, and here I was stuck with somebody’s boring wife. We made some small talk, and then a bunch of other people came to the table, including a man I knew who went straight to the older woman shook her hand, and beamed at her. I then realized that everyone else was trying to speak with her, and my dumb brain finally registered the fact that “somebody’s boring wife” was actually the most recent recipient of the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine. She didn’t need to ask “Do you know who I am?” I learned many lessons that day.
That’s awesome, Sy!! Love that story! Humility is a tough row to hoe.
Love this! So glad I got to sit beside you at lunch and just enjoy small talk. Thanks for being real.
This is great! Yes, I am often that author who asks the agents and editors what they write. First off, I have a terrible habit of not reading people’s name tags but just jumping right into, “Hello!” Second, I’m pretty sure that I suffer from some degree of face blindness (yes, I have not recognized relatives before and once waved at a man I thought was my step brother because of how he walked only to realize that they were not the same race) and so it takes me a bit of time and study to recognize faces. However, the professionals have always been gracious with my blunders.
“Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth; a stranger and not thine own lips” (Proverbs 27:2).
Major General Joseph Swing was the commander of the 11th Airborne Division in WWII. In 1944, the Division moved from California to Papua New Guinea before entering the war with Japan in the Philippine Islands. While staging in Papua New Guinea, the men liked to play volleyball, and would strip off their shirts to play. General Swing would occasionally join in the recreation. A new Second Lieutenant showed up one day and chewed out the men for being out of uniform. He demanded they all put on their shirts and line up for inspection. The men did as they were told and gleefully watched as the first “soldier” that lined up for the lieutenant’s inspection was the commanding general.
Reality checks are ways to remind us that in God’s eyes we are all the same. It took me decades to acknowledge my accomplishments and any notoriety I had was not who I am. Knowing my identity is in Christ and what I write must come from Him humbles me to prayer hard before I write, Let me be the stenographer and He the writer.
What a cute story, Tamela. I’d recognize you! “Don’t you know who I am?” immediately puts me off. I don’t think even Queen Elizabeth asked that one.
But you were gracious and helpful to a new writer. God bless you for that! Your spirit is encouraging and uplifting, and I imagine she was grateful for your thoughtful kindness.
Doesn’t take much to put us back into reality does it! (chuckle)
I appreciate the “I don’t think I’m Cher” and texting your husband “kiss emojis.”