Writers are Celebrities Too!

June 16, 2009 – In one of my retail stints many moons ago, I cashed out Mr. Michael Ondaatje (author of The English Patient). I blushed when I noticed the name on his credit card. My head was panicking “OMG! It’s freakin’ Michael Ondaatje! Say something! OMG! Say something!”. So I thanked him for his purchase and as I handed him his bag, I squeaked out something like “I am a fan of your work”. He was very gracious and said thank you. After he left, there was some jumping and giggling.

While I would definately be excited to meet “Hollywood” celebrities, authors are just as exciting to me – especially if I am a fan. So right now I am all a twitter for Cotton Candy Cupcake whose fun feather earrings were picked up by the matriarch of Canadian Literature, Ms. Margaret Atwood. Atwood and her daughter were trolling around in LaHave (where Rita sells her Cotton Candy Cupcake earrings as well as at Love, Me) this weekend and purchased some gorgeous feathery for themselves.

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I think I would possibly pee myself if Margaret Atwood came in the store.

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3 responses to “Writers are Celebrities Too!

  1. I have heard that same panic-in-my-head, except it was with Colm Feore! he bought 75 Pez dispensers at Freak Lunchbox when I worked there, and he was in town filming the Trudeau mini-series. I said something like ‘My brother’s name is Colm!’ which is true, but man, I sure felt silly for not saying something more clever.

    • lovemeboutique

      Makes me think that it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to have a couple of “in case I bump into persons of a certain station (celebrities) whom I admire” phrases that are both thoughtful and original.

  2. Last time Atwood was in town my dear friend Lindsay and I went to her reading at Dalhousie. Truthfully Atwood is at her best when reading short works, especially from The Tent.

    After the literary evening we headed down to the Shoe Shop for drinks and nachos on the patio. We were both awe-struck to see Atwood and her husband Graeme Gibson, who also read from his Bedside Book of Birds, at a neighbouring table.

    While we feasted our conversations toiled around, should we or should we not go over and introduce ourselves to Margaret Atwood? Since my interaction with her earlier went over more or less awkwardly (I asked her about the drawings in the book), I opted to refrain from interrupting the couple.

    But both Lindsay and I were floored at how masterful the waiter was. He just politely slid the bill onto their table. No questions, or words spoken aside from pleasantries. I just couldn’t get over that Atwood, our country’s literary bigwig, actually had to pay her own tab at the Economy Shoe Shop just like everyone else.

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