Things are quickly becoming more and more real for me. I am about to become a published author, complete with my own author page on Tirgearr Publishing's site.
Now, Kemberlee, the publisher, happened to choose a photo of me that I have never liked but others who know me say is the real me. What I find odd is that she managed to hone in on that one photo; a gum-snapping, applejack moose jerky eatin', somewhat classy trailer trash woman.
You will have to go here to see the photo, if you're curious.
Now, how did she know?
I thought I had successfully fostered the image of a bon-bon eating, lingerie lounging, champagne sipping "Jackie Collins" type, or at the very least, a thoughtful, serious writer.
She must have been talking to my co-author, Carol, who knows me so well. Now Carol better fits the persona I was trying to convey. She lives in Delaware, near NYC. She's an attractive blonde, loves the city life and all it has to offer and probably dresses impeccably. You see, while we've been friends for 10 years now and have been writing together for the same amount of time, we've never met in person.
It's probably just as well, too.
Because what that photo of me portrays is real. I truly am a redneck at heart, I honestly prefer the country life and everything it involves. While she loves shopping in the big city, I hate it and get impatient five minutes after entering the store. I break out in a cold sweat as soon as I hit the city limits of Edmonton, AB and my hands turn cold with white knuckled panic. She loves shopping for clothes, and I've had the same pair of comfortable jeans, complete with paint speckles and battery acid burns on them, for the last five years. I also wear my husband's shirts and consider myself quite chic. She loves the theater and city entertainments, and I live for the fishing and camping trips to the mountains that we plan weeks in advance, complete with a cooler full of moose dried meat, iced tea and fish bait, all co-mingling. She delicately dabs perfume, and to me, the smell of bug spray and campfire smoke is ambrosia. She loves a man in a well tailored suit, and my husband and I got married with him wearing a nice sweater over his flannel shirt, and I found him the sexiest groom ever! We were surrounded by my equally earthy relatives, and the impromptu reception later was a total hoot, complete with a good, old fashioned feast of each person's best dish. One hoser even spiked the punch with his own dandelion wine!
So why are Carol and I such good friends and perfect colleagues? I have no freakin' idea. Is it despite our vast differences, or because of them? I often wonder what would happen if we ever met in real life? I have often thought how perfect it would be if I bought the lot next to her house, moved in the trashiest trailer I could find, have my husband make his famous raspberry hooch while I smoked meat in our homemade smoker, and drastically lower her property values. I can't help but laugh in gleeful mischief at the thought.
So, I guess folks, if you want to know the real person behind the books I co-author, here I am. Kemberlee, you had me pegged from the first day, so I guess I can quit pretending now.
Have a great day, eh?