For as long as I can remember, which
usually means forever, I have been sociophobic. I know in the old
talk that is shy, and that me using anything else is utter hypocrisy
given my loathing of wankers. But this one feels more medical and so
less like I have a choice in the matter, as passing-the-buck on all
of my shortcomings is a consuming priority of mine.
What does this mean? Well, probably
close enough to what you think. I avoid making phone calls, I dread a
knock at the door, my small talk is more small than talk, I dodge
friends I have dodged for too long as they are now strangers and I
hope for long lines at the supermarket so I can think of something
clever to say to the checkout chick or chap.
My Dog Has Diarrhoea.
I am also a student-journalist and, as
it turns out, that involves talking to a lot of strangers. While I
have done various journalism subjects over my degree, none of them
involved as much stranger-contact as this one. I actually bailed out
of this same class a year ago for my fear of contacting people.
Though this year I am a little older
and a little more afraid of falling into that class of irrecoverable
weak-sauce. I really like writing feature articles and would consider
this a real career prospect, like Gladwell or Ronson. Plus I am
within pissing distance of my bachelors. Nothing for it but to sack
up and bite the bullet.
Through the process I learned some
convenient truths, some of which are:
What Is The Worst They Can Do?
In preparation for
some of these big interviews I would continually ask myself this
question. It turned out, probably because I was a student-journalist
rather than a real one, that most were very accommodating and worked
around all my nonsense.
But then, what
was the worst? I suppose in philosophical extremes they could have
killed me. But realistically they could have said no or told me to
leave. Not so bad. Not worth ageing over, though probably a
devastating shot to the esteem. Lucky I am a student and don't have
to face the real world until I am in my thirties.
Even An Apparently Boring Subject
Can Yield Good Stories.
As part of this
class all the stories have to be community based. When I went to film
school our first semester we edited on Steenbeck's and worked the
audio on magnetic tape, totally redundant technologies in the real
world but the idea was to gain an appreciation for the craft. I can
only assume this was the same idea, to learn from the bare bones,
though probably also to set an achievable goal for a bunch of
20something fuck-wits.
I Think These Two
Have A Story, Way Better Than Your Dumb Story.
At first I thought
it too limiting, not in line with my grandiose aspirations. I tried
to work myself in and make it a participatory type of journalism.
Though through the interviews I realised how stupid I had been.
Subjects will give you everything if you let them speak and realise
you are not god's gift to the world of the word.
You Want More.
Going into these
interviews I had a magic number in mind, one hour. That is
conventional wisdom on how long you need to get enough out of a
subject. That is also how long I would have to ignore my itchy
nut-sack, wonder whether the microphone on my phone was getting
everything and chewing my lip, literally chomping at the bit, to get
out of there.
What I found was,
most of the time, I was genuinely interested and wanting to talk for
more time. Most of the interviews lasted longer than an hour and I
only ended it because I felt like a nuisance on my subjects.
For the Love Of God! Please Continue.
You Realise Your Worth.
Yes, it is
probably because I am a student these people agreed to sit down with
me. But they, nonetheless, sat down with me. What I expected was
party-lines, the default answer, the easy way out. But they were open
and honest. I know I am not covering a sex-scandal, political
wrongdoing or case of bigotry. Still, it is nice to know if you put
it on front street, they will too.
It is,
essentially, nice to know they will put their words and story in your
hands. It is a huge boost to the ego, mine is already bulging, and a
nice vote of confidence. Basically, you realise you can do it; the
interview, the thing that seems so conceptually impossible. And you
feel like a million bucks walking our of there.
And What A Great Feeling.
You Aren't As Good As You Think You
Are.
Yes, it felt good
climbing that mountain. I know, if I do what I want to do, I will
have to do it many times more. But I know after each one, I could
have done better. There were moments of lull that I could have filled
with a good question, I could have redirected the conversation away
from the repetitive, I should've asked about about everything that
would make my story a well rounded piece.
For me it is
enough climbing the mountain, I will be able to have a cigar there
with time.
Journalism is, in
the words of the Irish, a tough crack. Questioning strangers is, to
me, the horror of all horrors. But I am getting better at both, and
both are my future. There is a weird amount to learn outside your
comfort zone.
NP.
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