Every author wants an interview, right? You get to talk about the project you know is a winner that has sucked up your every waking moment. And everyone who listens will buy the book. At least that’s the impression I get when I watch someone on the tube being interviewed about their latest. Millions in sales to follow.
Getting interviewed on local TV eliminates most of the stress, because you probably don’t have to worry your mom is watching, or that a big faux pas will be repeated around the globe. Nevertheless, it created a nightmare for me.
I asked my friend Tony, who hosts a local TV show, to write a blurb for the back cover of my new short story collection. He has some literary cred, by way of Canada, and he said he’d be happy to. His only request was that I agree to be interviewed on his show. I’ve joined him before to talk about various writerly topics. So I said, “Sure” and marked the date on my calendar.
This date fell before Christmas, but the show would be broadcast numerous times in January. I had worn my shiny red shirt to a holiday party, and in accepting compliments had noted that I’d bought it for my first book launch ten years ago. “Yep, it still fits.” No small thing at my age. So I decided to wear it for the interview. I’d brighten up the set. I did my best to pick appropriate earrings, fix my hair and apply more make up than usual to be “camera-ready.”
I met Tony and his tech guy, Justin, at the two-room studio. We sat behind the table in front of the green screen and they positioned me looking towards Tony, not at the main camera. Justin helped me weave a mic cord under my shirt and out at the collar.
The interview proceeded just fine. Tony is easy to talk to. He asked a few questions and made some comments, but let me go on and on about my inspiration for my stories. It was a “meaning of life” kind of chat as we delved into my female characters who wanted to keep their independence, and even took off on a tangent about what the dying want from us at their deathbeds. After a half hour we were done and I said goodbye.
A few days later, as promised, I received a link from Justin. He suggested I download and save the video. It would be aired a number of times in January, but after that would not be archived.
I gave myself a little space to anticipate a reaction to seeing myself on the screen and then, thinking about sharing the video on social media, sat down to take a gander. The show opens with the lovely vineyard setting behind Tony and me, and there I am in my pretty red shirt. My face and hair look fine, but OMG, thirty seconds in I realize the camera has the side view of my chest and the fabric is gaping open between my breasts. You know, that thing that happens when a gal’s shirt is too tight and it pulls at the buttons, exposing . . . well in this case exposing some kind of pink. Skin or bra, I’m not sure, but a two and a half inch circle of pink between the red edges of the shirt. I turned off the picture in horror.
So tacky. Why didn’t Justin stop the show and have us restart? They can’t air this. I’ll die of embarrassment! I email Justin: “You can’t air it as is. Wardrobe malfunction is awful.”
He writes back, “So sorry, I didn’t notice, but that’s up to Tony.”
I email Tony: “You can’t air it! I’ll be mortified.”
He writes back, “I looked at it. Much ado about nothing.” So like Tony to be Shakespearean about it.
I groan. What am I going to do? Can local TV run my interview without my permission? I don’t remember ever signing a contract. Do I need to hire a lawyer? It’s not exactly a Janet Jackson moment, but I don’t want anyone to see this!
My smartest move thus far: I give myself a few days to settle down, still not having seen the rest of the interview. I’ve got until January. I write to Tony, “Have your girlfriend watch it. She’ll understand.”
Two days later, he writes back, “She agrees with me!”
He clearly doesn’t want to reshoot it. I tell my cousin about it and send her the link to watch, which I still haven’t done. She calls to tell me she thinks it’s a great interview and the boo boo isn’t showing in every shot. She understands how I feel but says I should chill.
I finally break down and watch the whole thing. It’s true the problem isn’t there throughout. My favorite part is when there’s a banner that says my name and “author” across the screen, covering exactly the right spot. I still think it’s terribly tacky and makes me look like a fat idiot who doesn’t know how to dress. Where are those professional wardrobe folks when you need them? “Miss Hirsch, let’s just get you a different top, shall we? One without buttons?”
I have one more stop on my peek-a-boo tour. I go to see my friends Kathy and Lou and bring my iPad. They’re older, wiser, and more conservative than I. I’ve never heard either one of them mutter the f word. They’ll know.
They look at the first few minutes. Of course, they’re impressed that I’m on TV, that I look so nice, that I seem relaxed on camera answering questions. We turn it off and Kathy says, “I know how you feel, but I think it’s OK. Folks will be listening to what you have to say, because it’s good!”
I sigh. Yeah, it’s kind of like walking out of a restaurant bathroom with toilet paper hanging off your shoe, or with your skirt stuck in your pantyhose (remember those days?) It’s not obscene, just very, very tacky.
At long last, I gave up. I let a few weeks go by and had the video edited down for marketing purposes, leaving out some of the embarrassing moments. One friend called to tell me she was watching it on her TV. I groaned, but she thought I came across great and wasn’t concerned about the shirt. Maybe some viewers will take pity on the poor old lady who doesn’t know her shirt is too tight and they’ll buy my book. And the shirt? Already in the bag for Goodwill.
Here’s the link to the Youtube, if you want to form your own opinion! https://youtu.be/XzWs8JJR2EM
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