Hollywood, Here I Come

Well, I wish it were that easy.

My fascination with all things Hollywood began when I was a kid watching old movies. I couldn’t get enough of them.

When I moved to a small town in western Massachusetts, I mentioned to the librarian I loved Hollywood biographies. She made sure when the bookmobile arrived, she grabbed enough to keep me entertained for months. You name the actor or actress, I know all the details, and then some.

My Grandmother Angela was a huge fan of the National Enquirer.  When she was 16, she came over from Madeira on a ship that almost sank in the Atlantic during a storm. She loved Elvis, TV wrestling, and the National Enquirer, which she saved until the next time I visited. I binge-read the bundle to satisfy my Hollywood fix.

Even now, I choose the longest line at the supermarket so I can catch up on my reading. I also stick with my dentist, in part, because she subscribes to People.

My sincerest hope is that one of my novels is made into a movie. Better yet, it is made into an Oscar-nominated movie.

Long ago, I promised my dear friend, Amy, if I made it to the Oscars, I would invite her. Of course, I will also wrangle tickets for my family. But Amy who is as much a Hollywood stalker as me (perhaps more, I will admit) would enjoy the Oscars thoroughly. I see us wearing red-carpet-worthy gowns. We’d yack about who’s there and take selfies with the stars. Maybe we’d go to a post-Oscar party.

Hoo-boy, open the envelope please.