Pick Me, Pick Me!

Reality shows, in my humble opinion, aren't reality at all. They're fake, almost every one of them. I mean, please, do men really get to pick their mate for life from a pod of 25 beauty queens living in a swanky house in Paris or Malibu or wherever? (Okay, maybe if your George Clooney, although personally, I don't get that.)

But does American Idol qualify as a fake reality show? I think not. Once again this week, our family sat glued to the set, knowing that one of the contestants would have to go. I had my opinion--yes, Kevin, that means YOU--although my dear daughter begged to differ. But I was wrong!

In the end, Ace, Lisa and Melissa were in the bottom three. Did you get that? Ace and Lisa! Shocking, I tell you. Seeing their deer-in-the-headlights faces, knowing that any one of them might be leaving the competition, reminded me of all the times I tried out for things growing up. Auditions for theater and commercials, drill team, student government...yada, yada, yada.

Now I'm all grown up, but still dealing with reality (and aren't we all?) My book's been written and I'm waiting for edits from Bethany House. Once the rewrites are done, I'll be waiting most of a year to see what "the public" (that would be you) thinks of my work. Do I worry about being kicked out of the competition? Do I stress that you all might vote me off, never to pick up another of my titles again? You betcha.

Like Ace, Lisa and Melissa, this corner of my life is not "fake" reality, it's the real thing. Just praying the good Lord keeps me out of the bottom three :-)