Did you see the women's weightlifting at the Olympics? Those far-too-small women quivering under giant weights? That's how I feel right now. I've got the same pointy determined face on, the same rugged stance, the same lycra shorts. I'll write up the big interview tonight. I've done one rough, sloppy draft; it's eight-thirty, so I have two and a half hours before I have to finish my second, elegant draft. Then, I can watch an hour of the TV show that the actress I might be interviewing next week was in a few years ago, so I can get some idea what she's like.
Urngh. That's me hoisting this actress's life's work up over my head. Gnarrrgh.
Oh, I complain, but I like it. The interview yesterday went well, I think. I haven't listened back to the tape yet - I've just plotted everything I remember we talked about into a semi-coherent outline. I always leave the tape for last. I will find any excuse to put off listening to the tape. I hate hate hate the tape, hate pressing play, hate waiting to hear if it's recorded okay or if it's all hissy and incomprehensible, hate with neurotic venom the sound of my dumb voice asking dumb questions (they weren't dumb. It was a good interview, good answers, I've got everything I need for a decent article right there on the tape.)
I'm guessing that at some point I will get over my hatred of pressing play, just like I'm slowly getting over my fear of interviews. The guy yesterday (Rob Stefaniuk, director of the very funny Phil the Alien) is a filmmaker with a caustic sense of humour, which I would normally find kind of intimidating.
But this is where the tape recorder comes in handy. As long as the tape's running, I am the media, and I know no fear.
Which is how I found out that Rob's not such a scary guy. I mean, I'm sure he could be if he wanted to, but he's also quite funny and charming. We just sat out on a patio drinking beer and eating honeydew melon and talked about making movies in Canada and got divebombed by the occasional patio wasp. I found out we both have lifelong crushes on Lou Reed (the rock-and-roll kind of crush where you want to be Lou, not the romantic kind where you want to be with Lou). And now I've got my story, and my deadline, and there you go. Easy. Mrrrph. That is the sound of me pressing play. Gllauuhh.