NY Times best-selling author, Bruce Cameron, reviews new ‘Meat and Potatoes’ book

Back in 2013, I was at the Hilton Hotel in Hartford, Connecticut for the annual conference of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists. My blog won an award that year, and Dave Barry had handed me my certificate at the big ceremony on Saturday night. Someone snapped a photo of Mr. Barry and each award winner — mine was blurry and Dave Barry’s eyes were closed — and as is to be expected of Pulitzer Prize-winning writers who’ve reached that level of fame, I never had contact with Mr. Barry again.

However, there was another famous writer at the conference, who, despite his climb to fame, wanted nothing more than to hang out with the regular conference attendees. As if he didn’t have a syndicated column, a book made into a television sitcom, another book that spent 19 weeks on the NY Times best-seller list, and movie deals on the horizon. Despite, or perhaps because of his fame, he sought out the regular folks, the struggling columnists and bloggers, the writers and journalists who made a modest living doing what they loved.

W. Bruce Cameron started out with humble beginnings as a weekly columnist for the Rocky Mountain News, and later became an internationally-syndicated columnist with Creators Syndicate. One column he wrote, “8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter,” became the basis for his best-selling book, and then went on to become the ABC sitcom “8 Simple Rules” starring John Ritter.

If that weren’t enough, Cameron went on to write a popular series of books about dogs, the first of which, A Dog’s Purpose, spent 49 weeks on the New York Times best-seller list and was eventually made into a major motion picture starring Bradley Cooper.

Back in 2013 at the Hilton Hotel in Hartford, the conference attendees got kicked out of the hospitality suite for making too much noise on Saturday night after the awards ceremony. Some columnists just wandered off to bed for the night, but a small contingent of us ended up finishing our drinks, munching bags of chips and chit-chatting in the empty hotel ballroom. Bruce Cameron was one of them — or, one of us, as it were.

That night, we all forgot that Bruce was a big wig, and he forgot, too. We were just a group of colleagues and friends, laughing and having a good time.

At some point, Bruce snapped a selfie of us, the stragglers. It will always be one of my favorite conference photos.

When my new book, The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com, was about to be published, I wrote to Bruce and asked if he’d be willing to read an advance copy. By that time, Bruce had three hit movies and 20 books under his belt. There was no way he would do it. What was I thinking?

But I had forgotten — Bruce wasn’t your typical famous person. He was from humble beginnings. He was genuine. He was a truly nice guy. He liked hanging out with fellow columnists, even if they weren’t famous, and even if they were in an empty hotel ballroom in Hartford eating lousy chips and drinking cheap beer.

Of course, Bruce, who hadn’t slept in weeks due to his busy schedule, did read my book. He wrote back and told me that he thought it was “a wry and lighthearted journey through the seasons of family life.”

From Rocky Mountain News to rockstar, from Hartford to Hollywood — no matter where he goes or what he does in life, Bruce Cameron will always be a good guy. Thank you, Bruce!