Sunday, September 6, 2009

Somebody beat me to it

They say you can't go home again, but I disagree. I'm back in the home I grew up in. The fifty year old kid sled still sits in the garage, the basement is still scary, and there are always sticks to pick up in the yard. We sit at the kitchen table constantly and then if you hear any outdoor noise, you can crane your neck to peer out the front window and see what's new. Truly life hasn't changed much. I visit twice a year or so and laugh a lot.

I read an article in today's paper about a young man (age 28) who moved back in with his parents in San Diego. He'd always found his father (age 73) humorous and wrote down his father's pronouncements, quips, and opinions. Now, in the age of Twitter, he began to post them. Gathering a huge following, he garnered an agent and an opportunity for a book. Drat! Why didn't I think of that? My father (age 78) is a fount of phrases worthy of print.

We also watched a show on CNBC called the Oprah Effect. Essentially, any business, any book, anything that catches Oprah's eye and is on her show is guaranteed to go through the roof. A woman, who's a yoga instructor, has blogged about her attempt to live a life espoused by Oprah. (Think Julie Powell blogging about her Julia Child cooking - 524 recipes in a year). Well, success. The woman has an agent and a book contract thanks to her tie-in to Oprah.

Goes to show, you never know what will click or catch an agent's eye. Perhaps I should have visited my father more often and learned how to tweet. The world is missing out, that's for sure.

P.S. My father has a computer but no port to upload pics and I was lazy and didn't bring my laptop. Yeah, I know. No wonder somebody's beating me to it.


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