Yesterday, as I checked the calendar at Viva House, I realized that the combination of the book tour and some family travel meant that I would not return to the soup kitchen until May 8 — nine weeks. I couldn’t have been more depressed.
Let’s be clear: Viva House doesn’t need me. I need Viva House. My shift there is one of the reliable bright spots in the week. There are, apparently, scientific reasons for this, relating to the pleasure centers of the brain and how they respond to such activity. I’ve gone up to a month without being able to go there, but nine weeks! I haven’t had a streak like that since I started in 2003.
Meanwhile, interviews continue. One yesterday, two today, one Sunday, three Monday. There is a temptation, among writers whose work is wildly varied, to invoke Graham Greene, who characterized some of his novels as “entertainments.” I could do that, I suppose, but I think I would sound like an asshole. And while I, like Tess, would rather be an asshole than a bitch, I just don’t think I can carry the Graham Greene thing. I choose to compare myself to Wee Willie Keeler. One of the early Baltimore Orioles, Keeler had great stats, including a high on-base percentage. He achieved that, in part, by putting down something called the “Baltimore Chop,” a grounder that bounced so high that Keeler, a short and speedy man, could reach first base before the ball was fielded.
So I am the Wee Willie Keeler of crime fiction, hitting them where they ain’t. It is probably inevitable that this will somehow mutate into a claim that I compared myself to Baltimore’s former Cardinal William Keeler, now Archbishop Emeritus, if I understand these distinctions in Catholic hierarchy.
Off to pilates. Don’t mock.
I’m not quite awake yet, but I could’ve sworn you were comparing yourself to Edith Keeler, the fictional Aimee Semple McPherson type from the classic “Star Trek” episode, “The City on the Edge of Forever.” But that’s just me.
Speaking of time warps, that name knocked me for a loop this morning. My great-grandfather (I’m pretty sure that’s the right relation) used to be a sportswriter who travelled with the New York Highlanders and knew Wee Willie.
And Graham Greene couldn’t bat for (obvious four-letter word here).
Would we ever have heard of Julia Child if she’d just done sauces, or just done desserts?
I’ve always figured that Graham Greene’s referring to some of his books as “entertainments” was one more sign of his bone-deep self-loathing. Which somehow brings it all back around to the Catholic thing — at least, I hope that’s just as irrelevant to you as Cardinal Keeler.
Actually this is a good place to talk about interviews. What’s your criteria for a good/bad one? Do you feel like you give the same answers over and over again, or appreciate when an interviewer asks a question you haven’t heard before?
I know what you mean about Viva House. We have a Thrift Store at my church campus, and there are some men and ladies who “work” there religiously, no pun intended. They’re all retired from “day” jobs, but consider this a job as well. AND when a homeless person, or someone who looks pretty much done in shows up, one of the ladies/men takes em to lunch, on the house, then calls up all the helping folks we have in this area (yea, there are homeless in Boca Raton, FL…lots of them…the ptb don’t want ya to know dat…but they are here, and struggling.) to get them housing, food, etc. Then they go back to the Thrift store, and they are able to “buy” some clothing and stuff.
On a personal note, I was very depressed to read that May 8 was only 9 weeks away. I’m having one of those decade changing birthdays on that day and really wanted to continue thinking that it was eons away.
Great question, Sarah.
My attitude about interviews was shaped by interviewing authors. One of the early ones was Fran Lebowitz, promoting a children’s book she had done with Michael Graves, and I was terrified. I was sure that my questions would bore her, that she would lacerate me with her New York wit. So I began with an apology: “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask a lot of questions you’ve been asked before.”
And she said: Of course you will, but don’t apologize. There are reasonable questions to ask me and YOU have never asked them before. I will never forget her kindness — or her gorgeous vintage cowboy boots.
Then there was Martin Amis, who had clearly mastered his talking points after a long tour for the American paperback of THE INFORMATION, which came in the wake of his rather public battles with Julian Barnes, A.S. Byatt, etc. etc. But what he said was funny and so quotable that the piece was almost all Amis speaking, with as little connective tissue as possible. I still recall how he began, when I asked the obvious question about the tempest in the teapot: “I’m tired of saying I’m tired of saying I’m tired of saying . . .” I also adored his defense of the novel. “They’ve been saying it’s dead since Don Quixote and then it sits up in bed, saying, ‘I think I could take a little tea and broth.’” (By he way, the quotes are from memory and, therefore, wildly inaccurate, but consider that an homage to a book that Amis and I both admire, U AND I, by Nicholson Baker.)
Then there was Bret Easton Ellis, touring for a book with mixed reviews. But he was wildly charming, ready to play and tell the kind of stories that make an interesting interview. That was when I realize the author interview is really about the hour a journalist spends with a person. (Unless, of course, someone wants to do a full-bore profile, talk to friends and family and former colleagues and enemies. But that’s rare in these times.)
There were also bad authors, although only two come to mind. They taught me not to forget my manners and to try and be at my best, no matter how wretched my day had been.
So, yes, I will repeat myself at times. I’ll invoke Wee Willie Keeler and a rap I have on the sickness for material among writers, which explains how I came to write a novel about a television show: I couldn’t bear not to use material at my disposal. But I’ll also listen hard, be ready for the questions that haven’t been asked before.
Meanwhile, there’s a tip I’ve learned from — sort of secret coming out — the singing lessons I’ve been taking since last fall. (I suck.) I’m going to pause for a split-second before I start to answer. In singing, that technique helps focus the breathing. I think. (Sarah and the other trained singers here, and I know there is at least one other, can help me out there if I’ve gotten it wrong.) Interview subjects have to remind themselves that when talking to a print reporter, there is no penalty for pausing to think about something. Sometimes, I even say: “That’s such a good question, I need to think about it.” And I am utterly sincere.
Speaking of interviews and such, we were wondering last night if being on the Daily Show with Jon Stewart or the Colbert Report helped move a lot of books. Of course, Oprah is probably the g-spot of all of TV. But it seems like Daily and Colbert guests are 90% writers, so we wondered. Is Terry Gross the Oprah of radio? And what’s the print equivalent?
Very good points. In the few times I’ve interviewed people–usually playwrights for dramaturgical purposes–I try to read what I can and see what are the questions that everyone asks. That way, I can lead with the basics and ease into new questions and–hopefully–real conversation.
And what’s all this about Keeler playing for the Cardinals?
I’m still pondering the difference between an asshole and a bitch! Tina Fey may be right that it is actually BETTER to be a bitch than an asshole…..or thinking of it another way, if I was stuck on a plane (for, say, a 4 hour flight) next to a woman who was a complete bitch, it would be much more memorable (and therefore fun) than if she was an absolute asshole
Hmmmmm. Did Tina Fey get to the bitch/asshole dichotomy first? Dang, I thought I got that first. I knew about “Bitches get things done” but was she on the record before then? Because ATTF was finished months ago.
I don’t think there is, in fact, that much actual difference between assholes and bitches. The former word is often applied to men, the latter to women. But — IMHO — the latter is usually used to denote a permanent state of being (the transient state is “bitchy”) while asshole goes both ways, denoting permanent and temporary situations, and it’s possible to be a good-natured/just-kidding asshole. There is no ironic form of bitchery.
In my life, when I’m cranky and hypersensitive and quick to take offense, that’s more likely to earn a bitch rating. But when I say something funny-but-jerky, that draws “You’re such an asshole.” Or, among those who share that guilty pleasure known as MXC*: “You’re such an asssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssstronaut.” (Right you are, Ken.)
*Exhibit 1,082 in the ongoing case that I am, in fact, not a girl.
Ahhh – I see. This might be a Ball’more versus Hoosier thing; I think of ‘bitch’ as a transient attitude, and ‘asshole’ as a more permanent personality trait, and it seems that you generally reverse that.
Pammy often laments that I am “such an idiot”…maybe I can someday get her to upgrade that to “such an assssssstronaut”!
Re: interviews
I think it’s important to remember that the chances of any individual reader having read a previous interview with the author is small. So it’s essential to cover the basics, otherwise the reader won’t get the full picture. (And for those who HAVE read a previous interview, they’re probably fans — why else read more interviews? — and won’t mind the repetition.)
Re: Wee Willie Keller
Imagine a man in today’s society with such a moniker…
Re: bitches vs. assholes
I’m having trouble imagining Laura being either, although I would like to see it… (Well, not SEE it… You know what I mean.)
I’ve waited two days for my Keebler elf comment to come together, but it hasn’t happened.
I’ll keep working on it.