Strange things happen when you appear on movie screens all across the country. Odd connections are made. But let me wind back and put this story in context. I have quite a few Persian rugs. The one in the living room is an antique, blue and cream and gold and it’s huge, roughly twenty feet by eleven feet. It hasn’t been cleaned in six years, and it was definitely time. The damn cats will run off the stone floor and onto the nearest rug to barf. Gotta love cats, but I digress. I called a local company to come pick up the rug, take it to Albuquerque, clean it and return it. The crew were a couple of nice young guys, and they picked up the rug before the Star Trek Fathom event. So I get home from L.A., and the rug is ready. We set up an appointment for this Friday. The crew arrives, they move furniture, get the rug back in place, and replace the furniture.
Then one of the young guys says, “I don’t to sound weird or creepy, but I’m a huge Star Trek fan, and I went to the Fathom even, and I’m sitting in the theater, and suddenly there you are on the screen. I was so amazed that I couldn’t help it, and I blurted out That woman has a really big rug. Needless to say people all around me were giving me really odd looks.”
I cracked up, his friend rolled his eyes, and then the Trek fan thanked me for my work which was really sweet of him. I told him how much it meant to me, and they went off, and I sat down to reflect — yet again — about my strange life.
Great story! It reminded me of way back in 1987 when I had my first pro short story sale. The story was published in a midwest regional magazine, and it included a picture of me. A few weeks later I ordered a pizza. After I handed the pizza guy a check, he looked at my name, looked at me, and said, “Hey, I read your story!” That was fun…it was the first, and so far only, time I’ve been recognized.
It’s kind of cool, isn’t it Scott? And that thrill when you first see your name in print, or a book or magazine actually on a shelf where people can _read your stuff_. Then I always start to worry that they will hate my “stuff”. 🙂
Just remember the fundamental truth that when they love your stuff, it’s entirely because of your artistic genius and your hard work. If they hate your stuff, it’s obviously someone else’s fault (probably theirs.)
And it helps to have a nice, big rug, of course.
You’re absolutely right, Mike. It’s because they lack taste and discernment. 🙂 Or the producers or the bosses at the studio messed it up.
Hey, Kid–
As you’re well aware, this sort of weird thing happens to me on an almost-daily basis. I’ve long since tried to come to terms with it, deciding I am blessed to lead a wonderfully bizarre and strange life, and am fortunately that’s the case.
As I like to say, “Most folks lead lives of quiet desperation; I’m blessed to lead a life of noisy desperation.” 🙂
— Len