So we’ve been working with this author, a woman, who was once married to an extremely popular actor from the 70s and 80s and of course she wants to cash in, I mean chronicle, her time with him for the good of mankind and die hard fans everywhere.
We see this a lot, but I’m honestly shocked we don’t see it more. Hell, anyone whose been married to B-list celebrity or better could land a book deal these days, it’s like marketing the Bravo Network in print.
Pathetic of course, but publishing gold, and the suits love it.
Anyhow, this woman was a loose cannon, no filter, she hadn’t been in the spotlight in years let alone a red carpet, and was sure people cared about her, aside from the insider info she had on her husband.
Needless to say I knew no one would book her for radio, let alone TV, and certainly no one would turn up at an event to see her, but of course we couldn’t tell her that, so I managed to sell her on a online publicity tour, completely virtual, something that we would have 100% control over while she sat back to enjoy the ride via updates from our team, it was a win-win. She was on board.
Then I got the call. She was having a typical celebrity breakdown, we’ve seen it a thousand times, they just snap at the thought of all the things we aren’t doing for them. And this time the request was….wait for it…that we would fly her first class. For her online publicity tour.
I got an earful about how she couldn’t stand to be seen sitting in coach, what it would do to her image, if the paparazzi got a hold of a photo of her squished between two other “regular people” she’d never live it down and it would kill the sales for her book.
I explained to her, for the umpteenth time how a virtual tour works, that we’ll be doing everything online, saving her the hassle of schlepping around the country, but I could tell I was losing her, so I quickly added the fact that we’d be focusing all our efforts on her fans sitting just inches away from the “Add to cart” button online and – bingo – she was back on board.
Then she said, “So I’ll just watch for my ticket in the mail,” before hanging up on me.
It never ends. I live in the Twilight Zone.