Bradley P. Beaulieu

I had an interview earlier tonight with the kind people over at Writers of the Future. Well, with their production company, anyway. It was for a video they're compiling to celebrated the 25th anniversary of the contest. I suppose if I managed to say anything witty or interesting they'll put me into the final product. I'm not sure when it'll come out (I got a few conflicting messages at the interview itself) but my best guess is in August.

I didn't think I would get nervous, but then I did. Not sure why. I guess being put in front of a camera has the knack for doing that to people. When I got there, things were running late because the production crew were late getting into Milwaukee. They were heading in from North Carolina and staying for a few days in Chicago/Milwaukee before heading out for Cleveland and then back home to LA. They hit some delays in O'Hare, apparently, and then some traffic. Oddly, or perhaps not so oddly, this just made me more nervous. I was all ready to sort of sit down and, well, "get it over with" is not the right sentiment, but I did want to have it done so I could relax. Joanne had already dropped me off at the hotel, so I called her up and had her come back, and then we went to The Hollander, which serves some good food and some better beer. Yes, I had a beer. A Hoegaarden if you must know. A big one. Figured it would calm me down a bit. And that it did for the most part.

Very oddly, I saw Lynne Marie and Michael Damian Thomas while I was there. It was very surreal. I saw Michael, and we both stared at one another. You know, the look you give people where you think you recognize them, but then you go, nah, can't be, so you both look away. Then you both look back again. So while Michael and I were doing this little dance, Lynne goes, Brad! And then I'm like: OMG, WTF, it's you guys! I'd just seen them at WisCon in Madison the weekend before, so it was, well, just weird to see them in a place I never expected them. But it was very nice, too. I didn't get a chance to talk to either of them much at WisCon, so hopefully I can catch up with them a bit more at World Fantasy.

So, anyway, back to WotF. I head back after dinner, and I get up to the room that they've got for the taping. I fill out a bit of paperwork, and I'm chatting with the perfectly lovely Haley (the preproduction gal), and I realize that the other interviewee is being interviewed as I sit there in the other room. Hold that thought.

I continue shooting the breeze with Haley, and it occurs to me that the other interview is going on for some time. Eventually the other interviewee finishes up after, oh, I don't know, 20 minutes? And she was there being interviewed before I arrived. Then she comes in to say goodbye to Haley, and she's very personable, outgoing, easy to talk to. And then it's my turn at bat. The nerves aren't terribly bad, but they're getting there now. I go into the interview room and sit down. Surrounding this little chair are these big Chinese lantern lights. It feels like I'm about to be given the third degree. Drew starts asking me a few questions (to warm me up, I suppose), I get a bit more makeup, and then it's on. Drew starts asking me the real questions, and I start answering them as well as I can, but going through my head is the thought that the other gal, the one before me, the horribly personable one, she was in this room for a long time. She was probably saying all sorts of witty things that I'm not. She probably went on and on for minutes on each question, telling these cool little anecdotes. And as I'm thinking this, a nervous reaction I get from time to time crops up. My throat starts closing up. I thought this was a myth, but four or five years ago, the exact time that I started reading either for Joanne or in public, it started happening to me. And it started happening again. Years back, I would have to swallow like a bajillion times to keep speaking. I'd have to clear my throat. I sounded like a buffoon, which of course only made things worse. Luckily, I've learned tricks over time. The instinct is to speed up your cadence, but in that direction lies ruin. Instead, I slow down. I take pauses instead of swallowing. And in time–if I can just allow myself to live in what I'm saying instead of thinking about my fracking throat–things eventually loosen up, and I can talk like a normal human being again.

Luckily this worked. I only lost a few questions to this malady, and I even managed to tell some, if not witty, at least heartfelt tidbits of when I first learned that I'd won the contest, when I'd gone for the WotF workshop and the amazing awards ceremony, and the things I've built upon since attending the workshop. Hopefully it didn't turn out too bad. I think it didn't. Then again, what do I know? Maybe I'll end up on the cutting room floor.

Could be worse, though. There's plenty more-famous people than me who ended up on the cutting room floor. I'll consider myself in good company…

This entry was posted on Monday, June 7th, 2010 at 12:27 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.