*I'm the vampire in this scenario, if, in addition to "undead immortal who feasts on the blood of the living," vampire also means "bumbling fool."
Since I posted the Law School video in October, I've had the chance to do a few interviews about all the shenanigans that have ensued, including two interviews just in the last week. I'm more than happy to do them because I figure the more exposure I can get for this blog and for the videos, the better it will hopefully be for my long-term writing career. Plus, they ask you a bunch of questions about your favorite subject -- you! It's good for the ego. *patting ego on head* And all the journalists I've talked to have been extremely nice and very patient with me.
But one thing has become very clear. I'm not nearly as smooth and polished as I once hoped I'd be, I'm super nervous, and I'm in constant fear of screwing up the interview. Quite frankly, if a journalist pressed me on the issue, I'd probably confess to kidnapping the Lindbergh baby, a crime that occurred more than 40 years before I was born. I have visions of embarrassing myself, my family, my friends, my new agent, and anyone who's ever been associated with me. When the interviews conclude, I look back on them and imagine huge slanderous swaths of career-ending quotables that have poured from me like icy home draft Coors Light. I even had a nightmare over the weekend about it.
I try to relax and tell myself that these are supposed to be fun interviews about a fun topic and that I'm not an "anonymous source from the Pentagon" talking about ominous troop movements. But no matter how much I practice in advance or prepare myself for the questions I think the interviewer might ask me, when the interview starts, I feel like I'm blathering on like Chunk from The Goonies after he's been captured by the Fratelli gang. I always secretly hope that they want to do the interview via e-mail, so I can take my time in crafting my response and perhaps sound like less of a moron.
When you're a lawyer or a writer, or both, at some point, you're probably going to imagine yourself giving big-time interviews on the courthouse steps or on the Today Show (making Natalie Morales laugh her ass off, of course). I've pictured it myself, and I thought I would be good at it. So it's a rude awakening to realize you need to drink about a gallon of water at the end of an interview because you've sweat through your shirt and that you have absolutely no recollection of anything you've said.
In the meantime, I will happily give as many interviews as are asked of me.
Someone hand me a stick of Old Spice.