Ready for Reality TV
It seems like every day there’s a new crop of reality shows hitting the airwaves. The topics and themes of these shows are as varied as the people are who are courageous enough—or some might argue—crazy enough to put their issues and demons on front street for all the world to see. There are shows focused on married women who are actually divorced, actors who wanna try their hand at dancing, people who dream of becoming the next singing sensation, creative people who have hopes of their invention becoming the ‘next big thing’, and a host of shows about matchmakers, fashionistas, and culinary consultants. By the looks of it, it seems as if anyone could have a reality show. With that in mind, I wondered to myself how my life would look to the viewing public.
Would my life be interesting enough to attract viewers or would it be cancelled after one episode? What would it be called? Every reality show has to have a catchy title: “La La’s Full Court Life,” “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy,” “Pimp My Ride,” and most recently “My Mama Throws Down” (you have to admit, that last one sounds like a skit straight out of “In Living Color”) and the list goes on.
Here’s a few titles I came up with for my fake reality show. Hey, that’s an oxymoron! “Al-most an Author.”
“Bestselling B_ _ _ _. ” “Book Broad.” “Never say novel.” “The Write Stuff.”
I think any of those could possibly work. The show would center on me trying to become a bestselling author. The opening episode would cover the “Married in the Nick of Nine” book launch party really scheduled for June 9, 2012. The trailer would feature shots of me running around like a crazed nut because the books that were ordered for the launch party don’t arrive on time. I would spend the first ten minutes of the show screaming at the printers. My husband would be in the background trying to calm me down. Then one of my BFF’s would tell me to bring a few of my proof copies to the launch party and explain to people that the printer screwed up. She would coach me on how to sound pathetic and give me tips on crying on cue. She would tell me that the guest would feel sorry for me and that it would generate more book sales. Then we would get to the launch party and find out that the caterer never showed up. I would have a fit and throw the proof copies into the street and one would hit a passerby in the head. The passerby would attack me and push me into the life size poster of the “Married in the Nick of Nine” book cover, rendering it a creased mess. I would burst into tears and run back to the car with my husband running after me. The police would spot my husband, racial profile him, and take chase. They would pull up on the curb right before he reaches me, pepper spray him and knock him to the ground “Rodney King” style. I would pounce on the cops and then I’d get peppered sprayed, too. A crowd would gather and then more cops would arrive. It would evolve into scene straight out of “Do the Right Thing.” Now that’s a reality show. For real, Alretha?