If there’s one celebrity that I would like to meet…or let’s just say it sounds like it might be fun…it’s Blake Shelton. There. I said it. Admitting and accepting is the first step to recovery, or so they say.
Now you might wonder why I would want to meet the guy and what this has to do with writing. I’m sure curious. I mean, even though I spent a good portion of my childhood roaming the honey bee (the insect, not the man himself) filled hills and fields of my cattle rancher and horse wrangler uncles and aunts, those hillbilly bones were crushed when I moved away from my relations. Smashed to smithereens. And I was raised on jazz, gospel and what used to be called “negro spirituals.” I later moved on to Motown, R & B, Hip Hop, Rap, Funk, and Soul. I got rhythm, baby. It’s in my non-hillbilly bones. So what’s a girl like me even thinking about wanting to meet Blake Shelton, a country and western shooting star (the guy’s accelerating through the sky like a comet)? A few months ago, I didn’t even know the guy existed. And hey, I’m old enought to be his….older friend. I’m no sex-starved kitten looking for attention groupie. I’ve never even screamed over a rock star or fainted at a concert, never had star lust that I can recall. Watching girls lose their cool like that baffles me.
Let me digress a bit. As of this writing my debut book has been increasing in sales but it’s no best seller — yet. I’m undaunted. It’s a newborn baby, just out a couple of weeks. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, right? I know my day will come, me and my readers will find each other and life will be golden.What’s any of this have to do with Shelton? When I started exploring my voice through writing, I discovered this little television show called The Voice. “Synchonicity!” I thought. “I’m exploring my own voice, my own way and there’s even a television show about other people finding their voice!” Christina Aguliera, whose singing I love was a judge. Cee Lo Green whose music is way fun was a judge. Some serious-looking guy named Adam Levine was a judge. And some other dude named Blake Shelton was a judge. Hmmmm. He seemed funny….and kind of sincere…genuine….looks like he gives good hug…and he’s way cute. But he’s a country western singer. Remember when I said my hillbilly bones broke? More like pulverized. When I got out of the country, I got out.ress a bit. Every good story deserves a good beginning. This here’s the story of the beginning of my writing career. I mentioned in a previous post that I don’t have a clue why I started writing. Well, that’s only partially true. I’ve dabbled at this and that, looking for my voice for a while now….or maybe I’m looking for my current voice…a girl can have a lot of voices inside of her, right? Hopefully they’re not the Children of the Corn kind. Tried singing. Even got a one shot headline spot in a performance. While I love to sing, I sure can’t bring down a house or anything. Was a percussionist for a while, taking classes with the beautiful and talented Barbara Borden, showing up here and there with my drum in tow. I can be good at that when I practice, but out here in the Northwestern sticks where I live, I haven’t seen a lot of signs for drumming groups. Was a dancer for a while. I even danced with Tupac Shakur’s good friend and manager, Leila Steinberg. But mostly I love outdoor adventures, find my peace in the mountains, waterways and trails of the planet. Why choose writing then? I dunno, it just appealed to me and I’m damn good at it. Plus, I have such an interesting life, I love to spin a yarn or two.
But the more I watched the show, the more I liked BS. And, hey, anyone who can use BS as a moniker is fine by me. Then I had a dream about him. (Don’t worry, his wife was in the dream, too.) In the dream he told me that my voice would be heard because of who I am….who I am…! Who wouldn’t want Blake Shelton telling them that who they are is enough? It was one of those lucid dreams in which I shot awake like a missile. Why, thanks for the assist, Mr. Shelton, or at least my version of you! Thanks for the shot in the arm.
I shared the dream with a friend of mine. She said her travel agency was putting together a Blake Shelton Cruise. “You’re kidding!” says me.
“You can come with us on the Blake Shelton Cruise!” says she.
“I dunno. Cruises ain’t my thing.” I call them ‘trapped at sea with strangers’ and prefer to be off the ship, exploring the wilderness over sitting on a ship eating to my heart’s content. (You can tell I have a jaded opinion about cruises, can’t you?). “Is there anywhere I can get off and explore? Scuba Dive? Find a shark or two?”
“You could. The Blake Shelton Cruise is traveling from Miami to San Juan, St Thomas, Tortola, Nassau and back to Miami.”
“Hmmm. I’l have just returned from diving one of the most beautiful locatons on earth. Think I’ll pass.”
Why don’t you have a go at some designs for the Blake Shelton Cruise website then?” she asked.
“Okay,” I said, thinking this is purrfect. This is fate. This is destiny, baby, unfolding, wrapping its arms around me. As I was researching BS for the site, I discovered interesting things . The man loves Twitter. I can barely stand it. I try. I even tried posting a tweet his way and took it down the next day, mortified with myself. It was a funny tweet but geez. I’m not the groupie type, remember? The guy is also an avid hunter. His beautiful and talented wife, Miranda Lambert, even “harvested” a deer for their wedding. (Seriously? Harvested? You harvest corn and other vegetables….VEGETABLES. An animal is something you kill and consume its bloody remains.) Me? I’m one of those people he’d make fun of…big time. I mean, even though my cousins used to want to throw me in the jeep, drive out in the field and shoot rabbits, I always turned my nose up at the idea. I prefer catch and release. Once, when I gave in and put poison down a gopher hole, I swear I heard the little guy scream in a death shriek and I swore I had gopher blood all over my hands. For the rest of my days, I just knew I’d carry the soul of a rodent on my shoulders. But still, given Shelton’s delight in the shoot and kill game, I figured to each his own and did not stop being inspired by the guy. I like it that he walks to his own damn drum beat, something I’ve been doing in my life, too.
Ultimately, I lost the website wars. In a last minute 24 hours frenetic design flurry, I designed a decent site for the cruise but the next day found out the decision had already been made to let his team build it. So be it. Fate can be a fickle mistress.
When he tweeted his cruise announcement, my email and Droid got jammed (in my other life I’m a consultant and I get copies of everything) with all the people who wanted updates on the cruise. When I couldn’t even find my own email through the sea of fans wanting to stay informed, I grumbled and griped his way. “God damned super stars and their fans.” The dude’s bona fide big leagues. Don’t get caught in the fallout. Yet my admiration for Mr. BS continues.
Maybe I just got caught in the tailwind of the truck that is carrying BS to further fame and fortune. Maybe I’m riding the wake, taking notes to improve my own mileage down the highway of success. I listen to all kinds of success stories and try to absorb what I hear. I mean, you’ve gotta listen to those who have walked before you, right? Learn from their skidmarks. Whatever the reason may be that I’d still like to meet the man…maybe…could be terrifying….I’m still sending off a hearty thank you for whatever dose of inspiration I gleaned from learning a thing or two about myself through being a fan of BS. Oh, God, did I really say I’m a fan? Let the recovery process begin….