I have been known to be a fangirl every now and then. I am not talking about quitting my job and disrupting my entire life for a chance to be near my celebrity crush. But for a good story or epic pic, given the opportunity, I am willing to derail my plans for a day or step outside my comfort zone with an embarrassing exchange.
I think it started when I met Chris Robinson, lead singer and frontman for The Black Crowes, about ten years ago. Before that point, my husband and I had been to over a dozen Crowes shows, and each time I left the venue, I wanted more. I think it was Chris’ long hair, his beard, and the way he felt every word he sang as he danced barefoot that made it feel like a religious experience. I couldn’t get enough.
So, when the opportunity came up for VIP tickets around my 40th birthday, which included a “Meet & Greet,” I jumped at the chance. All I wanted that year was a picture with Chris, to be close to the man who made me feel music.
I can still remember feeling the energy surging through my body, simultaneously hardening my muscles to stone while turning my knees to jelly as I waited in the VIP line with all the other fans trying to keep their shit together. I visibly blew out my breath, nervously playing with my lanyard, waiting for the band’s handler to wave me up for my photo. I wasn’t mentally prepared when I was finally called. Any hope of my face not giving away my convulsing insides didn’t matter when Chris overheard me telling myself to “Be cool. Be cool. Be cool” as I approached him.
“It’s all good, babe. It’s all good,” he told me.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygodhefuckingheardthat! “Hi!” I squeaked out and then slowly wrapped my arms and legs around him like an octopus enveloping its lunch. Admittedly, it wasn’t one of my finest moments, but hey, once they pried me off him, I got my picture . . . and a good story.
After that incident, I like to think I built some street cred. Maybe even got cooler. My confidence in approaching Warren Haynes, one of the best guitar players of our time, at Target would tell you that. Here I am with his wife and son in a nice family photo of the four of us in the car seat aisle.
While many wouldn’t recognize him off stage, or if they did, would most notably know him from his Allman Brother days, I fell in love with his music when my husband and I saw him play with his band, Gov’t Mule, at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park circa 2002ish. Even without his flamed-up Hawaiian shirt and Les Paul, I would recognize him anywhere. He is the lead of another one of those bands that hits me in my core and will forever be woven into the fabric of my life.
Fast forward to last May when I was driving alone through the backwoods of Tennessee and, on a whim, decided to take a three-hour detour to find country music superstar Morgan Wallen’s hometown, only to meet his grandmother at the local jail. I couldn’t pass up the chance to gush about how her grandson’s music has bonded me with my kids and how I am forever grateful for that fact alone.
So this past week, when I attended a Kristin Hannah book tour event in NYC with my bookworm bestie, Coco, I was sure I would get a selfie with the author. She writes books. She’s gotta be more approachable than a rockstar – right?
I had it all planned out. I would confidently march up to her at the end of the night with my phone at the ready and snap away as I told her how I am a different person after reading The Great Alone. How her words plunged me into the beautiful and unforgiving Alaskan wilderness, how I wished I knew Large Marge personally, and how, for a very brief moment, I considered moving to Alaska after my kids graduated college—trading in my Grand Cherokee for a snowmachine, living off the land and eating moose stew. We’d laugh at the absurdity of me going off-grid, I’d snap a toothy candid photo of us and proudly walk away with my pic and story in hand.
But after listening to Kristin’s on-stage interview and a reading from her latest novel (the most anticipated novel of 2024), The Women, performed by Miriam Silverman (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel), I chickened out.
This woman masterfully puts together words for a living. What would I offer her that she hasn’t already heard? My personality? While I consider myself funny (I have always been my best audience), I am not sure it would have enough time to charm its way through my inarticulate word vomit before she motioned for security to move me along.
As I wrote this week’s newsletter, I was still thinking about why I backed down. How could I cling onto a rockstar like a barnacle but not allow myself to get closer than ten feet to a novelist? Maturity? Implementing the lessons I learned from that article I read about personal space?
And then it hit me. Damn you, imposter syndrome, I thought as I shook my fist in the air. Chris Robinson, Warren Haynes, and Kay Wallen are all, in some way, part of my music world. I am not trying to become a musician. But I am very much trying to become a writer. In Kristin Hannah’s shadow, I felt like a toddler playing dress up, wearing my mother’s lipstick and high heels, unsteady on my feet. It’s fine to pretend in my house, but in the real writing world, I’ve got a lot of growing up to do before the shoes fit.
In Stephen King’s book, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, one of his best pieces of advice for becoming a better writer is to read—a lot—which is exactly what I plan on doing this weekend, starting with my signed copy of The Women.
Maybe the next time I’m in the same room as Kristin Hannah, the writer inside me will eclipse my imposter, and I’ll have the courage to at least say hello.
XO Melissa 🌻
Well, there you have it—How I Fangirled My Way into the Mind of an Imposter. Anyone else have bouts with imposter syndrome? When does it sneak up on you? Put them in the comments, I’d love to read all about it. We all would! Just hit the pretty purple button below.
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The Women
From the celebrated author of The Nightingale and The Four Winds comes Kristin Hannah’s The Women—at once an intimate portrait of coming of age in a dangerous time and an epic tale of a nation divided.
Women can be heroes. When twenty-year-old nursing student Frances “Frankie” McGrath hears these words, it is a revelation. Raised in the sun-drenched, idyllic world of Southern California and sheltered by her conservative parents, she has always prided herself on doing the right thing. But in 1965, the world is changing, and she suddenly dares to imagine a different future for herself. When her brother ships out to serve in Vietnam, she joins the Army Nurse Corps and follows his path.
As green and inexperienced as the men sent to Vietnam to fight, Frankie is over- whelmed by the chaos and destruction of war. Each day is a gamble of life and death, hope and betrayal; friendships run deep and can be shattered in an instant. In war, she meets—and becomes one of—the lucky, the brave, the broken, and the lost.
But war is just the beginning for Frankie and her veteran friends. The real battle lies in coming home to a changed and divided America, to angry protesters, and to a country that wants to forget Vietnam.
The Women is the story of one woman gone to war, but it shines a light on all women who put themselves in harm’s way and whose sacrifice and commitment to their country has too often been forgotten. A novel about deep friendships and bold patriotism, The Women is a richly drawn story with a memorable heroine whose idealism and courage under fire will come to define an era.
OMG! 🖤 Fangirling over Chris Robinson myself!! So awesome!! I love The Black Crowes! Really cool to see Kristin Hannah too! Jail??? 🤔