Rhonda Stapleton's Blog

I live in the Cleveland, Ohio area, which is super icky right now. Biting-cold air. Blustery, dirty snow. Rare glimpses of sunshine. And that's just inside my house. haha


 


Seriously, when winter hits, I find myself staying inside a whole lot more. Partly because I hate the way people drive like morons whenever one snowflake hits the street. And partly because I am desperate to stay warm.


 


In our house, we make lots of fires in our family room's fireplace. I cuddle up under a blanket on my couch and read or watch TV. Or I drag my laptop over to there and do my writing in comfort.


 


I hate feeling like I never get fully warm unless I turn my heater up to like 200 degrees. Yeah, my house is a weeeee bit drafty. I think I'll eventually move somewhere a little warmer...the south is starting to look pretty darn good right now. If I close my eyes right now, I can almost envision I'm lying on a beach, slipping my hands into the sand. Well, if I could unlock my frozen fingers, that is.


 


It cracks me up to hear people in the south complain about their weather being, like, 50 degrees. If it were 50 here, I'd run around outside like a crazy woman in a two-piece. Okay, not really--but I would be much happier. :D


 


Welllll, spring will be here, eventually. Until then, I guess I have a great excuse to get through my to-be-read pile, right?


 


Rhonda Stapleton


http://www.rhondastapleton.com


Get more on Rhonda Stapleton at SimonandSchuster.com

And boy, did I have a blast on release day. I have to say, having my book debut on 12/22 does make for a good distraction from Christmas craziness. LOL. And running around to different stores to sign stock also provided me for the opportunity to do a little book shopping for myself. Mwaaaaaahahahaha...*rubbing hands together evilly*

 

Anyway, I wish you and yours a super-happy holiday season!

 

Rhonda Stapleton

http://www.rhondastapleton.com


Get more on Rhonda Stapleton at SimonandSchuster.com

Let the countdown begin! My novel STUPID CUPID releases on December 22nd, just in time for Christmas! So, I'm kicking off my book launch contest. Here's what's up for grabs:

--a copy of Stupid Cupid, signed by yours truly

--a $30 bookstore gift card to the store of your choice

--a $30 iTunes gift card

--a $30 Starbucks gift card

That's a $100 value!

So, what do you have to do to enter this incredible contest? Simple--write me a horrible love poem. The more purple-prosed and nauseating, the better. 

Visit my blog HERE for more details, and be sure to spread the word. Thanks!


Get more on Rhonda Stapleton at SimonandSchuster.com

I Will Always Love You: My American Idol Experience
By Rhonda Stapleton






For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a singer. I sang in the living room, amusing my family with my rendition of “Maniac” from the movie Flashdance. I sang in the car. I sang in school. I sang everywhere, and throughout my youth, continued to dream of the day I would appear on Kids Incorporated--or even better, Star Search, sweeping the competition with 5 stars from each judge and debuting with an album that would rise to platinum status after I sold a billion albums my first week. Yes, lofty dreams, indeed.






My love of singing never became a salable career, other than winning a couple of karaoke contests in adulthood, so when American Idol came out, my friends told me I had to audition. I bowed out gracefully, pointing out that I was juuuust a little too old and missed the age cutoff, but if they ever raised it, I’d be glad to try out. It was a non-issue, since I didn’t imagine the show doing that. Ever.






And what do you know – in the summer of 2004, a friend called my bluff. The age was raised to 28, which just so happened to be my age, and they were having auditions in Cleveland. And thus started my American Idol adventure.






I had no idea what to sing, and was offered advice from a multitude of people. “Don’t sing Stevie Wonder--you’ll most likely be rejected for it, because it’s hard to mimic his vocal inflections and range.” “Don’t do songs that everyone will be singing, like anything by Whitney Houston, especially ‘I Will Always Love You’.” “Pick something in your range, and make it fun!”






Ok, so that leaves me with…what? Well, since I wanted to approach the auditions with the attitude that it would be fun to participate, and I was doing it only for the experience, I decided to pick something fun, so I chose “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon, since it was unique and flattering to my vocal range.






Though excited, I was super embarrassed and didn’t want to announce to the office that I was trying out, since I knew I wasn’t going to win. Therefore, I only told a couple of people…but being an office where everyone knows everything, word leaked and everyone found out. Pressure!






The auditions were to be held at Cleveland Browns Stadium. The website for American Idol specified that no one could arrive any earlier than 6 a.m. the previous day. Being naïve, I assumed it wouldn’t be crowded until that evening. I was going to work my regular hours (7 a.m. to 3 p.m.), then have a friend drop me off at the auditions so I could wait in line and get signed up. Another friend agreed to meet me at the stadium that evening so I wouldn’t have to crash there alone.






That morning, everyone at work told me that there were already thousands of people waiting in line. So, I left work early, toting my overnight bag, and arrived at the stadium at noon. There were, indeed, thousands and thousands of people in line, and it was a hot, sticky day. The stadium grounds crawled with food and drink vendors, news crews from all the local stations, and auditioning women in tiny outfits hamming it up for the newscasters.






I stepped into the back of the line and waited in the sun, sweat pouring down my rapidly burning skin. A few hundred people or so filed behind me, but it quickly became apparent that I had arrived nearly last, meaning I was going to have to wait for hours to get into the stadium.






The people behind me were hysterical. They were college students from West Virginia--three females and a male. Having family from that state myself, we struck up a conversation and spent the time from noon to around 4 p.m. entertaining ourselves and slowly moving up the line.






At the entrance, a posted sign declared that no chairs, nor outside food or drink were allowed, which explained the massive piles of litter and folding chairs around the edges of the stadium. Also, only one guest could come into the stadium, but the person had to already be with the applicant. Well, that screwed up my plans. I called my friend and told her not to worry about coming down.






Many people were ticked about the “no outside food” rule, but the guy in the West Virginia group lied and told the American Idol employees that he was diabetic so he could keep his food, which included a healthy array of Pringles, Twizzlers, Ho Hos, and soda.






We finally got inside around 4:30. Sleeping bags and blankets packed the stadium floor. Some people practiced their songs, while others napped. The food vendors were open, but the prices were ridiculous. Bottled water was $3.50, and chicken sandwiches, nothing more than a slab of dried-out chicken meat on a bun, were $5.00! Yes, I just love the food industry tyranny.






We stepped around the crowds of people and filed into the stadium seats. There were 15,000 to 20,000 crispy, burnt Idol wannabes in the stadium once everyone was seated. Some guy with a British accent, who I think was the executive producer, stood in the middle of the field and made a few announcements.






The contestants needed to be in their seats no later than 6 a.m. the next morning. There would be a series of tents set up on the far end of the field, and each tent would hold 2 judges. Starting with the chunk of people who arrived first, we would be lined up in rows of three for each tent and would each then have 10 to 15 seconds or so to sing our song, with the judges picking the best of the best. And the worst of the worst.






Only about 1500 people would make it through the first round--roughly 10%. Those selected would get to the next round with the producers, and would be filtered down to anywhere from 150 to 300 people, who would then audition for Paula, Simon, and Randy.






We were told we had the option of staying in the stadium overnight or getting a hotel room nearby. However, if we did that, we would have to be back in the stadium no later than 5:30 in the morning.






In a unanimous decision, the West Virginia group and I decided to get a hotel room, since we knew we wouldn’t get any kind of restful sleep crashing in the stadium. We called and made a reservation at a nearby hotel, left the stadium--making sure our wristbands were secure so we could re-enter the stadium the next day--and walked to the hotel, promptly ordering pizza. We took turns practicing our songs for each other--in between a lot of laughing and joking around--then crashed a little before midnight with the plan to leave the hotel by 4:30.






The alarm clock jarred us awake at 3:30 in the morning. My lungs don’t even function that early, so I woke up at 4, desperate for more sleep. I scrambled around to get dressed in my shirt and jeans and packed up my belongings.






We dragged ourselves to the stadium at 5 a.m., still in a half-slumber, and sank back into our original seats. We were specifically told the day before that we needed to stay in our original sections, or we’d get kicked out if we were caught trying to cut line.






The stadium was soon packed again, with people in a variety of dress wrapped in blankets to keep warm during the early morning coldness. I saw one person in a mime outfit--nice gimmick.






And then came the rain, pouring and stopping in bursts. People dashed up to the seats below the overhang or back into the stadium hallway, all of which were crowded beyond belief. The British guy made another announcement that the auditions would start very soon.






We waited.






And waited.






Finally, around 8 a.m., the auditions started. Despite its fatigue, the crowd was enthusiastic--cheering on the first brave souls. American Idol camera crews swept over the crowd, creating a general sense of excitement.






If the contestant was told no, he or she had to file along the field, up the steps of one side, and out of the stadium. If he or she was told to advance, the path fell along the crowd of waiting hopefuls and cut through the crowd to a loge room, where paperwork and instructions of where to go next awaited the lucky person.






Throughout the long day, the majority of entrants filed down the walk of shame. Some cried, shuffling out the stadium in embarrassment, while others laughed and talked.






Those who made it to the second round were stopped by waiting aspirants still in the stands and told to sing. Since I was near the end, I got to hear all the songs people sang. I quickly noticed a pattern of which songs were favored, as many of the women who made it to round two sang an excerpt of “I Will Always Love You” to the eager crowd.






I joked to the West Virginia group that all of us, including the lone guy, should change our song to “I Will Always Love You” just to be funny. But on the inside, I started to panic, thinking that maybe I really should change my song choice--after all, that seemed to be the winning song of the day, regardless of the advice I had been given. But I stood firm with my decision.






Hours dragged by painfully slow--we were trapped in the stadium that time forgot. We grew restless. Bored with practicing our songs, we all tried to entertain ourselves by singing together. When the novelty of group singing wore off, we napped, painfully twisted up on the benches to avoid falling off onto the sticky concrete floor.






In one trip to the bathroom, I saw someone in a black sequined dress and high heels singing to her reflection in the mirror. I recognized her as a fellow karaoke contestant from a restaurant a couple of weeks before--she had won first place, and I had won second. I smiled and said “hi” to her as she sang. With a brief pause, she scanned her eyes over my jeans and shirt and dismissed me from her presence, looking back in the mirror to carefully shape vowels with her mouth as she exaggerated the sounds.






I was stunned at the blatant snobbery, and being tired and slightly cranky by now, wished she’d trip in front of the judges and break a heel, or that all the sequins would somehow fall off her dress.






Oh, well. I pushed thoughts of her out of my mind and focused on rehearsing the lyrics to my song in my head. I didn’t want to get up there and forget the words.






You know, sitting in a stadium for hours and hours upon end gives one a lot of time to ponder life and the mysteries of the universe. What does it all mean? Who am I in relation to the rest of the world? Is there life in space?






What if I have a twin out there on another planet, living a parallel life to mine, auditioning for Jupiter Idol? Would she have chosen “I Will Always Love You” as her song? I felt deep and profound, as if I finally reached some hidden layer of understanding.






At 6:00 in the evening, it was finally my turn to line up. By now, the stadium was nearly empty, with only two sections behind me waiting to audition. The walk of shame had gotten bigger and bigger (including the bathroom diva, who cried as she walked out of the stadium), with only a few trickles of people making it to round two.






I got in line and pushed forward with the rest of the singing cattle, suddenly feeling nervous. Amazing--I’d made it this far without getting the jitters, and now it was finally time. I watched the process: the judges had the first person in each of the three rows step forward and sing for about 10 to 15 seconds, one after the other. After all three people sang, the judges made their decision, usually saying “No, thanks,” to the entrant. Those three left the lineup, and the next three moved up to sing.






In the tent beside me, a woman belted out “I Will Always Love You”, her voice reaching to the far end of the stadium. She made it to the next round. The now-familiar Whitney Houston panic set in again, but I forced myself to stick with what I had practiced.






I was in line with two of the girls from West Virginia. When we made it to the front of the line, we each sang less than 15 seconds of our songs to two tired, distracted judges. I think I did pretty well, even though the judge didn’t look up from her paperwork at all while I was singing. All three of us were told “No, thanks,” though one of the girls was told she should try out again next year. Unfortunately, since she’s 28, too, that wasn’t a possibility.






We grabbed our bags and filed out of the stadium. I was too tired by now to really care, the day’s exhaustion and abbreviated sleep the night before having taken its toll on me.






I called my ride, and while waiting, called family and friends to let them know that I did not make it to the next round. Of course, being supportive of me, they told me I should have made it.






While I was disappointed, I had to remember that these were brief, unprofessional auditions for a television show. The judges didn’t know me, didn’t have a chance to see me perform at my best. Instead, after having taxed my body to possibly its maximum fatigue, I had to wait outside in rainy, dreary weather for 13 hours to audition for 15 seconds.






Overall, it was an exhausting, surreal experience, but I’m glad I got to try out. It sure made for a unique two days. Now, to find out how to apply for Extreme Makeover...




Get more on Rhonda Stapleton at SimonandSchuster.com