“Memo From Your Overworked P.R. Agent on How to Be Famous,” by Liz Rosen

May 22nd, 2024 | By | Category: Fake Nonfiction, Prose

First of all, ditch the checkbook. It’s on-line bill-paying with a credit card from our office from now on. That signature of yours is worth something now, so we can’t have it floating around. Plus, if some ass-wipe from nowhere can rip off your payment to your telephone company to pay their own bill, just imagine what a determined Chinese hacker can do.

Get yourself a high-grade shredder. Not one of those Staples pieces of shit. I’m talking slice-the-fucker-into-confetti-that-even-the-most-determined-Iranian-hostage-taking-students-couldn’t- piece-back-together. (See determined people above.)

You’re gonna need a ring light. Yeah, I know you don’t want to be that kind of influencer, but trust me: when you have to do Zoom interviews, you’re going to be grateful to have that sort of lighting so you don’t look flat-as-fuck to the world at large.

And speaking of public appearances, just put it in your calendar for the foreseeable future: one morning a week is devoted to getting good-looking. For God’s sake, quit picking your nails bloody. You think these rabid hide-behind-the-internet ass-wipes aren’t clocking that shit? I’ll have my girl Lu Lu call you. Weekly manicures, and no more letting your roots show just a little, huh? Two and a half weeks, that’s it. Lu Lu will be at your door to do the touch-ups on your roots and, what the hell, let’s throw in the brows and upper lip wax. You know why? Because that ring lamp is gonna Light. You. Up.

No more gym, either. No, that doesn’t mean you don’t have to work out. Lizzo is the only one who can get away with that shit. You’re going to be working out twice as hard at home with a great trainer we know. You’ll thank me later when those motherfucking paparazzi don’t catch your sweaty ass coming out of a gym, no makeup, sucking unbeautifully on your eco-friendly water bottle. And if my dude Arty can’t get rid of that cute little double chin you’re developing, Lu Lu will set you up with Dr. Kaiser to have that shit vacuumed out. You’re welcome.

And speaking of things you won’t be doing in public from now on:

  1. Feel free to post pics of that really rad meal, but you aren’t going to be eating in public any longer. I don’t care how hungry you are, or how famous the chef is. There is no one who looks good chewing.
  2. Going to an ATM or bank. My girl Lu Lu will deliver cash to you once a week, amount to be negotiated dependent on your current earnings.
  3. Going to the grocery like a normal person. If you were a normal person, you wouldn’t have me on speed dial. Maybe we can make an exception for Trader Joe’s – their cool quotient is still pretty high – but you’d need to run your shopping list by me so you don’t get caught holding a box of Hot Pockets or some shit. Trust me, that is not the kind of sponsorship you want to attract.

The following things are okay to be seen doing publicly:

  1. Walking your dog (but not picking up its shit).
  2. Sitting in the first row of a fashion show. If it’s not the first row, don’t bother, babe.    Unless you want to look like the girl who got asked as an afterthought.
  3. Dancing at a concert or club (but only if you are in the V.I.P. section).
  4. Shopping for jewelry, boats, or houses (of more than ten mil).
  5. Driving or being driven in an expensive car. Teslas don’t count. Escalades do, but only if you’re in the back.
  6. Going to the Vanity Fair Oscars Party, Met Gala, or Michael Rubin’s Hampton’s White Party. Sundance is ok, too.

Next, if you have a medical issue, your first call is to me (or Lu Lu, who will contact me). I don’t care if you’re bleeding from the eyes or tap-dancing because your yeast infection has gotten that bad. We (Lu Lu) can get a doctor to come to you, or if it’s absolutely necessary, call in ahead with a “break the glass” command to get you through a hospital’s private entrance so every ass-wipe with a phone and IG account doesn’t document it. I cannot reiterate how important this is with plastic surgery, teeth whitening, and cosmetic procedures. If you have a real disease, I can spin that, but if you are just keeping appearances up, there isn’t much I can do other than point the press to the latest world catastrophe and hope to divert them, and that shit only works in politics.

We are in negotiation with Johnson & Johnson to have them shelve the commercials you did for Stayfree and Stelara. Ditto with Prestige for the Beano commercial. Sorry, kid: I know it’s a source of revenue, but there’s a reason you don’t see Brad Pitt’s Pringles commercials anymore: hard to be a heart throb when there are images of you shilling for flatulence products. And for God’s sake, shut down that Instagram handle @babysgotbasta like I told you before someone gets wind of it. MUST BE DONE BEFORE THE STEP-AND-REPEAT AT THE SAG EVENT NEXT WEEK. Bitch, don’t make my job harder.

We are also in the process of buying all the URLs that might be associated with your brand. I think I mentioned the Oklahoma bakery that already has the dot.com for your name, but Lu Lu is working on buying that back. We’ve blue-ticked you with Twitter-X-Whatever-the-Fuck-Elon-Decides-Today, and the social media team is backlogging and scheduling some daily look-at-me posts for you that don’t require your actual face in them. Take a few generic selfies and send them to me and I’ll forward them to the team to use.

It goes without saying that any scripts or business-related stuff I send you cannot be thrown away (See note above about shredding). However, the following also cannot be placed into your trash any longer in case some stalker/paparazzi type steals it:

  1. Any prescription medication pill bottles (“She’s an addict/crazy/about to die”)
  2. Empty birth control pill packs or used condoms (“She’s a slut”)
  3. Used clothes or shoes (“Entitled”)
  4. Food (“Wasteful.”) Plus, see Lizzo above.
  5. Period-related shit (“She’s a woman”).
  6. Recyclable goods. Unless you want those environmental fascist Greta types to come for you, make sure these are only in your recycling bin.

Ok, babe, Lu Lu will send you Part II soon. I’ll see you at your sesh with the media coach on Wednesday. Make sure you don’t miss it. Nothing can tank your career faster than flashing your crotch at the audience by mistake as you sit down on Jimmy’s sofa. Only one actress ever got away with it, and when was the last time you saw her in anything? Even Brittany didn’t survive Crotch-gate. That shit got her locked up on house-arrest. God-willing you’ll be big enough one day to have a Free-You fan-base, but until then, follow the rules (and Lu Lu).


Liz Rosen is a former Nickelodeon TV writer and a current short story writer with a love of YouTube ghost-hunting shows. She consequently has a great “Did you hear that?!” Color-wise, she’s an Autumn. Music-wise, she’s an MTV-baby. Her favorite cryptid is the Lochness Monster, mostly because saying the name “Nessie” makes her nose crinkle with delight. For more information, check out www.thewritelifeliz.com.



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