Trying not to Sound Like an Idiot
Being interviewed for a magazine or blog is unlike any other experience in my life. Writing responses is easy. My approach is the cliff diver's. Throw oneself off the rock and hope for the best. Sometimes it works. Sometimes you read what seemed so clever 5 days ago and cringe. The tougher trick is sounding intelligent in person.
Yesterday, after dealing with a family crisis, running in heels and what I hoped was a clean outfit, I met with and was interviewed by a lovely writer named Julie. She writes for 425, a local magazine. We'd met last spring when she interviewed me for an online article for Knockers, which is what Adventures with Max and Louise was called when it was self published. She's a writer, mother and painter so we had a lot to talk about.
It was a fun, lively conversation. Julie understands all too well the demands of juggling writing, kids, a part-time job and yes, she even paints portraits on commission. I have no idea where she finds time to do half of this, let alone raise 3 kids.
Things went swimmingly until Julie asked me how I felt about my supposed success. I stared off into the busy cafe, wondering what to say. Luckily Julie's 5 year old daughter provided some distraction, so I had a moment to think. I knew, without a doubt that this was murky water.
If I said I didn't feel like a success, I'd sound ungrateful. I have a book published, something I've dreamed of for years. But it's one book and early days. Who knows what could happen to it?
After cobbling together a response, I asked Julie to read my answer back to me. I wasn't at all sure what I'd said. It was one of those moments where it felt like I was watching a movie instead of doing the actual talking.
I had said something about "not trusting success, trusting work instead." Julie looked closely at me, because we'd talked about how hard it was to craft a painting, or article or book to the point you'd want to share it with other people. And how bad it felt when you jumped the gun. I'm pretty sure she thought my answer was reasonable, something she'd agree with herself, were she in my position.
Given that Julie manages to write, paint, teach and manage 3 kids, I'm certain, at some point, she will be in my position. I just hope that when her time comes, she has someone interviewing her as talented and sympathetic as she was yesterday. Because when she's running in heels, breathless from whatever the day brings, someone ought to be there to help her come up with the right answer.
Part of success is getting to meet people like Julie. And having a chance to keep writing. And that is more than enough.
Thank you for reading.
Yesterday, after dealing with a family crisis, running in heels and what I hoped was a clean outfit, I met with and was interviewed by a lovely writer named Julie. She writes for 425, a local magazine. We'd met last spring when she interviewed me for an online article for Knockers, which is what Adventures with Max and Louise was called when it was self published. She's a writer, mother and painter so we had a lot to talk about.
It was a fun, lively conversation. Julie understands all too well the demands of juggling writing, kids, a part-time job and yes, she even paints portraits on commission. I have no idea where she finds time to do half of this, let alone raise 3 kids.
Things went swimmingly until Julie asked me how I felt about my supposed success. I stared off into the busy cafe, wondering what to say. Luckily Julie's 5 year old daughter provided some distraction, so I had a moment to think. I knew, without a doubt that this was murky water.
If I said I didn't feel like a success, I'd sound ungrateful. I have a book published, something I've dreamed of for years. But it's one book and early days. Who knows what could happen to it?
After cobbling together a response, I asked Julie to read my answer back to me. I wasn't at all sure what I'd said. It was one of those moments where it felt like I was watching a movie instead of doing the actual talking.
I had said something about "not trusting success, trusting work instead." Julie looked closely at me, because we'd talked about how hard it was to craft a painting, or article or book to the point you'd want to share it with other people. And how bad it felt when you jumped the gun. I'm pretty sure she thought my answer was reasonable, something she'd agree with herself, were she in my position.
Given that Julie manages to write, paint, teach and manage 3 kids, I'm certain, at some point, she will be in my position. I just hope that when her time comes, she has someone interviewing her as talented and sympathetic as she was yesterday. Because when she's running in heels, breathless from whatever the day brings, someone ought to be there to help her come up with the right answer.
Part of success is getting to meet people like Julie. And having a chance to keep writing. And that is more than enough.
Thank you for reading.
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