Are all Celebrities Jerks?

The more I read about celebrities, the more I realize not only that I will never be one, but also that I am good and happy with it. Why, you might ask? Let me explain...

As much as I would love to dazzle the world with my writing, and squeeze Morgan Freeman's hand as he prepares to accept an Oscar for a movie based on one of my stories (hey, one can still dream, right?), one of the things I enjoy most in life is to connect with people, especially readers.

Last year, a lovely young lady sent me a friend request on Facebook after reading one of my novels, The Book of Obeah, and when I accepted it and wrote on her wall to thank her, she wrote me back to let me know how surprised she was to get my note. Earlier tonight, another lady responded to an event invitation and expressed how cool it is to be able to talk to the writers in my group; not too long ago, she explained, she had a bad experience with an indie author who acted as though she was above everyone else. To me, such behavior is truly mind-boggling. Why would anyone NOT want to talk to the very same people who made them who they are??

Certainly, I understand why really big celebs can't talk to individual fans -- if they chose to respond to every person who tries to get in touch with them, they wouldn't have time to do anything else. But what about the smaller guys? Why should they be so distant? Years ago, I worked in a hotel downtown which housed many celebrities when they were in town. The thing that I found most comical was that the legends were friendly (David Crosby was a peach, and so was John Denver, may he rest in peace), while the small bands that were part of Lollapalooza were, for the most part, jerks. Napoleon Complex, anybody?

There almost seems to be a veil of mysticism surrounding artists in general, and many come to accept it as part of the job. Handsome actors, beautiful actresses, talented musicians, dancers and writers, weren't always demi-gods...there was a time when even the "untouchables" depended on the kindness of others to open the door. One thing is certain: Without people buying tickets, actors and directors would be scrubbing dishes in Hollywood, without good folks who enjoy music, singers wouldn't be able to charge a fortune for a concert ticket, and without readers, writers are NOTHING.

If being a celebrity means being superior and alienated, then I know that it is not what I want to be when I grow up, and if my books do well, I owe it all to the good people who decided to give my work a chance. The fact that you, the reader, support my dream and allow me to be who I am means the world to me, and puts YOU on a huge pedestal in my eyes. Never forget that.

The Great Little Gatsby

Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the great little Gatsby. A parody of a great classic, you say? No, not at all – the Gatsby I am talking about is a tiny little kitten, whose life had such a rocky start that he ended up at my door at the age of four weeks, with little fur on his body and nearly starving.

You see, Gatsby’s mother – a stray cat – was killed by a car, and she left behind five kittens that were barely three and a half weeks old. They were rescued by a kind lady, who was able to find homes for three and was left with two of the babies.
The first of those two babies, Karma, made her way to my house after my daughter’s friend brought her home and was told she couldn’t keep her. When she brought her to me, I had no idea how to take care of a cat so young, but a trip to Petsmart set me straight – I got back with cans of kitten milk, some kitten food, a litter box, and a bottle of Dawn dishwashing soap. Why the dishwashing soap, inquiring minds might wonder? Well, flea drops can only be used on cats eight weeks and older, but Dawn can be used at any age to give kittens a bath.

Giving Karma a bath was the beginning of the adventure….as soon as we got her wet, the poor little soul looked like a frightened sea monkey – all eyes and ears. Next came the feeding part, and alas, it wasn’t any easier. Karma was too small to eat cat food, so I went back to the grocery store and got some turkey and beef baby food. The baby food worked, and within a few days, Karma was ready to find a home. I started a Facebook campaign, and I’m pretty sure people on my friends list cringed each time I posted a new request, since I posted so many. Finally, Karma found a home with my son’s friend, whose mother instantly fell in love the moment she saw the kitten. A day or two after she went to her new home, I called to check on her, and the new mom told me the “baby” was already getting spoiled rotten…that same day, this wonderful lady bought fresh shrimp, boiled them, and minced them in tiny pieces for Karma to eat. Needless to say, I asked if she was also willing to adopt a 40-year-old daughter. She said no, so I’m still here fixing my own dinners.

The day after Karma left, my daughter’s friend called me and told me the lady who still had the last baby didn’t know what to do with him; he wasn’t eating and he was getting weaker by the day. Of course, I told her to bring him to my house. I didn’t know what I was going to do with him, but I had to give him a chance.

The little guy arrived, wrapped into a blue blanket and nearly furless. He was dirty and ridden with fleas, so I gave him a bath; actually two, since he still had fleas after the first one. At this point I had a clean kitten, but he was so weak, he could not even stand up or play. His eyes wouldn’t focus, and he barely meowed. When my vet came and weighed him, the next day, he was only eleven ounces! The vet was pretty sure that this kitten hadn’t eaten anything since his mother died, a week before. We started a round-the-clock regimen of baby food and kitten milk, and after a few days, he started coming around.

I found him a home, but three weeks later, the lady who adopted him developed allergies, and asked me to help her find a new place for him, so I got back on Facebook pleading, once again, to find this little guy a home. This time my campaign was short, and a family from St. Louis agreed to adopt him. The lady of the house happened to be visiting family in NC, so we arranged to meet to finalize the adoption. She chose the name Gatsby for him, and I think it fits him perfectly! His final destination will be St. Louis, so he has a few miles to burn before he can make it to his forever home, but one thing is for sure: Once he gets there, he will have the home of a cat’s dreams. With two loving adults and two happy children around, who will undoubtedly play with him all the time, what’s there not to love?

So, this is the story of the great little Gatsby, a kitten who started on low gear but is going to go far, all thanks to the love of wonderful humans who took one look at his little Yoda face and instantly made him a part of their family. Thank you.
And to my friends on Facebook who read the many posts, and were kind enough not to send me a box of chocolates laced with arsenic, I really appreciate you. Now that you know Gatsby’s story, I am sure you understand why I had to do it.

A Review of KILLER IN SIGHT (A Tom Lackey Mystery) by Zak Johnson (Goodreads member)

Fans of John Connolly and Stephen King should enjoy this supernatural thriller that will raise the hair on your arms and put tears in your eyes, often at the same time. Carrington-Smith's empathy and feel for character also constantly brought Joseph Wambaugh's "Hollywood Station" to mind for her similar ability to seamlessly switch between multiple points of view without losing tension. This tension starts on page one, which finds you inside the panicked head of a victim fleeing a knife-wielding stalker through dark woods and continues apace up through the story's revelation. I appreciate a writer who isn't afraid of her passion, and Carrington-Smith is an artist who definitely goes all the way in several scenes dealing with death, sex and wounded souls. A very enjoyable debut.

Just to note: I won this book on Goodreads as a "First Read" giveaway