DAILY POST: AUDIENCE OF ONE

I’m not one to be doing a daily post – daily – but this one’s different.  I’ve been wanting to write to Stan Wischnowski,  the Executive Editor of the Philadelphia Inquirer, but who am I and would he even listen?  So… to get it off my chest, I dedicate this post to Mr. Wischnowski.

Dear Sir,

I am a huge fan of Lisa Scottoline, published author and Philadelphia Inquirer Sunday columnist.  But here’s my gripe.  I don’t know what Ms. Scottoline is getting for her column, Chick Wit, which is sometimes funny, sometimes hysterical, and sometimes, well, ok, but I think I could do this.  I think I could write the same material for half the price and twice a week at that!  I mean, I have pets I could write volumes about, and a 90 year old mom that would keep readers in stitches for days on end.  Not to rival Ms. Scottoline, but I’ve also got the two ex-husband senario going for me,  and a list of ex-boyfriends whose stories I could weave into gut-busters.  So what’s the deal?  Does a person have to be famous to, ah, get famous?  Does a person have to have “experience” in order to get experience?  Kind of a catch 22 if you ask me.

Not to be redundant, but I love Lisa Scottoline.  Her  novel, Look Again, kept me on the edge of my seat and begging for more.  I even went to one of her book signings at Barnes and Noble in Cherry Hill, NJ and waited in line to get a picture of myself, with, yes, a famous author.  I have no shame when it comes to well-knowns, probably because I AM NOT ONE!  The line was ridiculous, but I got a book, a signature, and a photo of my husband, Lisa, myself, and Lisa’s now slightly famous daughter, Francesca, who sometimes writes the Inquirer column for her mom.  I guess celebrities get too busy sometimes.  I would never be too busy!  I promise!

In closing I’d like to say, I have nothing against Ms. Scottoline or her beautiful and talented daughter.  I continue to read the column.  Her books are still on my shelf, and I will never stop doing The Inquirer’s Sudoku daily while nibbling on my toast.  But, if Lisa ever gets busy to the point of  “I can’t do this anymore”,  give me a holler.  My dog, my mom, my exes, and my sense of humor are waiting.  Just sayin’.

Respectfully – to one and all mentioned in this communication,

Gemma