This is why I snapped up the chance to read a free copy of Celebritize Yourself! I figure — if some bath-salt-smoking-chick from Kentucky can get knocked up and make herself famous, so can I.
So I read the book by the pool in Vegas. Total amateur move. Real celebrities read this kind of stuff in private. And the advice to become a celebrity was simple: write a book, speak on an important subject, and hire the author to do your public relations work.
Okay, great. Lemme get on that. I need to start (and abandon) yet another manuscript, speak at a few more conferences, and garner more publicity for myself. I am definitely underexposed.
This author goes out of her way to stress that celebrity doesn’t have to be insidious. It can simply mean that you are a recognizable subject matter expert. That’s fine, but I feel like I need to go on the record and say that ‘celebrity’ strikes me as both awful and weird, which is funny because much of my time is spent online (with you guys) discussing my thoughts & feelings. You know about my husband, my cats, and my food preferences.
And you know I like to tell people, “I’m Laurie Fucking Ruettimann.”
But the arrogance of ‘celebrity’ offends me. Seriously. Totally. Deeply. Offends me to the core. It’s elitist and exclusionary.
I believe that it’s s a noble goal to be helpful, interesting, and entertaining. It’s certainly laudable to become a noted expert in your field. But I’m going to stick to my guns and say what I always say:
There is no ‘celebrity’ in HR blogging.
And it takes a unhealthy dose of cluelessness and entitlement to assume that anyone should give a rip about who you are and what you’re doing just because you exist and you are pretty/handsome/sexy/tall/smart/white/female/male/athletic/pregnant/on a TV show/in a movie/you can sing/you can’t sing but you can fuck a producer who can auto-tune your voice.