DIARY OF A GIRL-NEXT-DOOR HEAVY METAL NOVELIST

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July 2, 2006
I'm back from South Carolina, and ready to start my new day job. My intimate time with Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley have my pumped up and ready to go, and if that weren't enough, I have a kitchen stocked with three different blends of KISS coffee. Hooray!

Here are some excerpts from the notes I took on June 27 in Myrtle Beach in order to document the grand opening of the KISS Coffee House.

2:00 a.m. - My plane landed in Myrtle Beach after twelve hours waiting in airports for thunderstorms along the east coast to clear. My suitcase is soaked from sitting on a cart outside during the deluge(s).

8:00 a.m. - Both my Plan A and Plan B outfits are still wet. I have to wear a pair of boxers and a t-shirt I had hoped to use as pajamas. I put on sunscreen and straighten my hair to keep it under control today. At least I'll look presentable from the neck up.

9:00 a.m. - I'd heard that fans were allowed to start lining up at the coffee house at 10:00 a.m., so I get there at 9:00. I have a fantastic place in line - near the front, and right next to a park bench. My feet and bag are soaked from walking over from my hotel room, but I'm feeling relaxed. The last thing I did before I left New York was shrink wrap the copies of Won't Get Fooled Again that I plan to give Gene and Paul. As long as the books are protected, I don't mind getting wet. The park is empty, dark and quiet. All is peaceful.

11:00 a.m. - Goddess! I see my friend, Leigh, whom I consider a real-life Suzanne Curtis. She and I hit the café and I taste my first cup of KISS Joe. Awesome!

Noon - I pull out my camera and find that all of the pictures I'd taken over the past few months are gone! Thank goodness the last thing I did before I went to bed this morning was back up my photo files. My as-yet unposted pictures of Bruce Kulick and me at the New York KISS Expo are safe, and I can breathe a sigh of relief. Extra bonus -- I have all kinds of memory left to snap photos.

The crowd is starting to fill out. I see lots of tattoos and bad dye jobs. Yep. This is a KISS crowd.

1:00 p.m. - After my cup of KISS Joe, I had to use the KISS John. The ladies' room was so impressive I wrote a review when I got back to New York. (p.s. KISS posted the review on their website and asked whether I'd like to write a review of next month's Hall of Fame Rally. Cool!) Of all things to forget, I didn't have any sunglasses, so I strolled down the boardwalk and picked up some specks. On my way back to the line, I ran into a friend of mine from A&R records as well as KISS's webmaster. I was starting to feel momentum building. Paul and Gene would arrive in about seven more hours, and I was still feeling fresh.

3:00 p.m. - Wait a minute. Did I say I was feeling fresh? Strike that. Despite my SPF 30, I could feel my face starting to burn, and I was starting to feel weak from hunger and dehydration. I went out to search for food and water. Somehow, my day had turned into Survivor: Rock & Roll Island.

4:00 p.m. - Ahhhh. Nothing like a full tummy and plenty of water to soothe the soul. Uuuuuuugh! No I didn't mean THAT kind of water! I looked outside the pub where I had lunch, and I saw that the glaring sun had been replaced by a downpour. Good thing I was indoors. No, wait! Where was my camera?!?! I sprinted back to my place in line and found my line buddies huddled under umbrellas. My poor red bag sat all alone, with water pummeling it. Good thing the last thing I did before I left that morning was steal the shower curtain from my hotel room. The curtain was packed at the top of the bag, so it protected my camera and ultimately me. I draped it over myself like a 1-woman tent, and waited for the storm to pass.

5:00 p.m. - Soaked and sunburned, I knew there was no chance of getting a good picture of myself that night, but I still had hopes of capturing a good shot of Gene and/or Paul holding a copy of Won't Get Fooled Again. My line buddies and I started to strategize.

5:30 p.m. - I give an interview to the Charleston, SC newpaper that ends up in print the next day. I was the "college professor and romance novelist" in the crowd "who broke all stereotypes." Nice!

6:00 p.m. - Holy sh*t! Gene, Paul and their manager, Doc MacGhee just walked right by me! They're here!!! The crowd is in a frenzy. I didn't take any pictures of them when they walked by, even though they were so close I could have touched them. I used my hands to hold up a copy of my book. I'm not sure why. Maybe I was still dehydrated.

7:00 p.m. - Okay, we had a plan. My line buddies and me agreed to use our own cameras to take pictures of each other when we met the band. We figured it would be tougher to screw up with our own cameras. Suddenly, people who had just been line buddies became best friends. Their eyes, hands and camera equipment were the most important items in the universe.

8:30 p.m. - The doors open. The first group of fans enter the coffee house to meet Gene and Paul. I'm in the next group. My line buddies are right behind me, and we're all nervous.

8:31 p.m. - I'm in!!! There is a line of about ten fans in front of me, so I have time to breathe. "Good thing we're at the end," I say --- to no one!!! Sh*t!!! I was the last person they let in for my shift, and my line buddies were left outside!!! The security guard saw the look on my face and let my friends/photographers in the door. God bless KISS security!

8:32 p.m. - Click. Click. Click. I'm taking as many pictures of the person in front of me as possible, but the line is moving so fast all I get is Paul Stanley and the back of her head.

8:32 and a half - Magic, baby.

Me: This is from me to you. (I passed him a copy of my novel).

Paul Stanley: Oh! Thanks.

Me: It's a fantastic little novel. I'm Colette. (I extend my hand, and he gives a firm handshake.) I'm the author.

Paul Stanley: Cool. Thank you.

Me: How was Superman? You're the only person I know who's seen it.

Paul Stanley: It was great. It was a take-off on the elements of the previous two.

He kept talking to me as he signed autographs for the guys behind me. At this point, all I could hear was the guard behind me saying, "Move along, please."

Me: Hi. This is for you.

Gene: (Does a double take when he sees the book and sees me.)

Gene and Me: I'm Colette. You're Colette.

Me: Yes. (We shook hands.)

Gene: I have a copy of your book in my collection.

Me: Yes. Your lawyer called me on your behalf to get it for you.

Gene: Yes, he did. The man you mailed it to was him. (Gene pointed at a picture of himself wearing the makeup.)

Me: (Smiling) Haha. I suppose I did.

Then, I got kicked out of the line so my line buddies could chat with the Demon.

At the end of the day, I spent eleven hours flying to South Carolina and almost twelve hours sitting in line for that little interaction. I didn't get any decent pictures, which was my only goal for the trip. But, I couldn't stop smiling.

I went back to the coffee house and tried to snap pictures from outside the door. At one point, the editor of KISS's magazine came outside and said that Gene and Paul had run out of working Sharpies. An author who delivered signed copies of her book to her favorite rock stars saved the day. So anyone in the second half of the line has a semi-quasi-unofficial KISSfiction connection.

Tomorrow, I start my new day job, and I'm excited about it. Am I as excited as I was on Tuesday? In many ways, yes. I'm going to do something for which I have tremendous passion, and meet new people who also believe in something bigger than themselves. When you really think about it, it's all rock & roll, right?

July 3, 2006
It has long been my fatal flaw - believing in men of tremendous vision who ultimately failed the test of integrity. In most cases, I've learned to distrust heroes. Even when it comes to KISS, I've only met them when I wanted something for myself - pictures. Heck, when I met Paul the first time, I complimented his wig, and the second time, I asked him how he liked Superman Returns. Of all the secrets to the universe, that's the only one that seemed important. What a cynic I am.

But, you know what? I really do want to believe in a hero. It probably won't be a rock star or a scholar. Tonight, I went to check out Superman Returns for myself. I had no idea they had cast someone remarkably like Christopher Reeve, who starred in one of my favorite hero movies of all time, Superman II, the same summer I quit believing in heroes. I also had no idea the graphics and the John Williams score would also carry on. By the third key change during the opening credits, I was already crying. I wanted to believe again. By the end of the film, I remembered how it felt to trust in something, even a fictional something, enough to aspire to be greater than my old flawed self. Drum roll. Key change. Cymbal crash.

In less heroic fashion, I hopped out of bed this morning for my first day at the new job. I put on my work clothes and threw on my comfy leopard slippers so I could brush my teeth, do my hair and pack up my briefcase. Before I headed out the door, I took one last look in the mirror, and I gave myself as much as an affirmation as I'm capable of (something along the lines of "Girl, you rock"). I jumped into my cute red convertible and pulled out of the driveway, marveling at how comfortable I felt, considering it was my first day.

Wait a minute! I thought. Am I a little too comfortable? I wiggled my toes, and the soft plushy lining of my favorite animal-print bedroom slippers rubbed back. Dear God.

July 9, 2006
I've done a strange dance with commitment my whole life. I've moved so often, I used to avoid decorating my houses because I figured I'd just have to pack up the stuff for my next step up the career ladder. At my last job, I didn't even afix my parking decal to my car. I just used Scotch tape.

Maybe my relationship with my man is influencing the rest of my life. The first day at my new day job, I stuck my parking sticker right to my car window and I'm going to pound some nail holes into my new office walls so I can hang pictures. Normally, I would have just left up whatever crap hung when I arrived. Not this time, baby.

Buuuuuuuuuuut... with my new commitment to a day job, I feel a renewed commitment to my life as a writer/slash/celebrity-writer. I really want to finish my second novel (working title, Nothing to Lose). I want to have a first draft completed by January 1. My new day job has given me tremendous incentive. Their bookstore has already ordered copies of Won't Get Fooled Again!

Commitment rocks.

July 11, 2006
Yesterday, my new boss confessed that she had bought and read Won't Get Fooled Again. Better yet, she liked it. I hope that means she's open to a little KISS. My office is a little quiet, and I'm thinking that my original plan to play it completely non-rock & roll was a mistake. A sweet KISS never hurt anybody. I'm going to frame a poster from "Living the Fantasy," designed by über-artist Jeff Stockwell. It's completely tasteful and packed with cool.

Meanwhile, I'm still pondering the articles I found tonight during my scheduled round of narcissism. I Google myself about once every few months to see if there's anything out there I should post here. I found an article I detest, perhaps because I never quite understood the intent of the author, and one that I'd never seen before. The second one was as flattering as anything I've read, but it left me a little melancholy.

July 17, 2006
I'm getting settled at my day job, learning the important details. First of all, there isn't a decent slice of pizza to be found on the whole campus, but the fries are good. If you use the second stall of the bathroom, the auto-flusher will surprise you with a premature whooooosh. Best to use the third stall, where you have to press your body against the side wall before the flusher's eye beam realizes you're all done.

Yeah, I'm trying not to take things too seriously this go-round. I want to work someplace that has a soul, but I don't want to sell my soul to work. (continue)