Okay, so I have a confession. If there was ever a dream of mine, it would be to be a writer. Like a I-make-money-by-writing-random-thoughts-that-come-to-my-mind-in-a-witty-irresistible-style-that-everyone-loves writer. I am intrigued by any “job” that doesn’t require you to answer to a boss or show up at a specific time of day. I want a job like that so badly. So, one of the things I do in my spare time occasionally is read blogs or books of people who are obviously in the aforementioned category of writer. I want to know what they do that allows them to be a writer.
My most recent research project has been the one and only Pioneer Woman. I have heard people (i.e. Katie) talk about the PW before. I have even cooked (gasp, I know) a few of her recipes that have been quite delicious. I have even just recently purchased her most recent book Black Heels to Tractor Wheels. I have read her writing. I appreciate the way she writes and I can recognize why people everywhere would be attracted to it. I think it’s a little cheesy for my taste, but to each his…her own.
Anyway, I am on page 62 in her book which recounts her magical, fairtytale-ish love story of her and Marlboro Man..I’m not sure about the nickname for her husband quite yet…again, a little cheesy. Anyhow, I have read about the PW and her graduation from college and unlikely meeting with Marlboro Man thereafter. I have lived through the first kiss and silly moments between the two of them. I have muddled through the cute, sweet, irresistible beginning of these two people. And sure enough, I found myself sucked in. I was suddenly trying to recount my steps with Cody in those early years of our relationship. I was panicking that I didn’t run over my dog and fall into Cody’s rough, calloused cowboy hands. I was certain that without a chance encounter in a smoky bar and my making a fool of myself in so many ways around Cody years ago, we didn’t stand a chance.
So, I decided only a few moments ago that I wanted to put a face or at least a profile of a face to this Marlboro Man. From the PW’s description I had created some smoldering, delicious man who I would undoubtedly see and suddenly understand all of the to-do over her love story. I visited her website to find that she furthers the mystery of the Marlboro Man by never showing his face exactly. So I bypassed all of the hoops of her blog and googled the guy. As I sat here looking at all of the pictures of this guy, I realized I have nothing to worry about. Cody is my Marlboro Man if the magical man for the PW is the guy in the pictures without the hat and Wrangler’s on. I don’t even like Wrangler’s. And the guys is not as good looking as the person I had created in my head after reading the book. And then I realized what has happened…
The success of The Pioneer Woman is not because her husband is super hot and that her life is so thrilling that she could write any tiny thing about her existence and it would be a hit. The success of this chick comes from the fact that she’s a writer. A person who understands who’s she’s writing to and tailors those words for every sappy woman who ever dreamt of marrying someone unexpected and being swept off their feet in the world of unknown comfort simply because he is there. So, here’s to you Pioneer Woman. For getting me to buy your book and google your husband. And for getting me to appreciate the guy that I have in my life. And for writing a blog that makes you tons and tons and tons of money. Perhaps one day I will find my niche the same way the PW has done.
But I have to sayI hope I don’t have to move to the country and start cooking to make my dream a reality. Tennis Shoes to Cow Poo doesn’t really have the same ring anyway.
Katy, I think you have a good start on that writing career already. I love reading your blog. You're developing a great voice. Keep after it. I think you'll go far. :)
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