On the other hand (says my inner editor) I don't have a publisher or a publicist, so if I never tootled my own trumpet it would rust, and that's not good trumpet-care.So I'm surprised and not unhappy that, in the past few weeks, I have given (that appears to be the traditional verb for describing the action, and it seems quite appropriate, as it takes time and focus and is an offering) two interviews by email - or rather, have been emailed sets of questions to which I've replied at length, in depth, and sideways.
The first was for Hayley Webster, who had the ingenious notion of hosting a 'free online book festival' on her blog. Her questions came with all the subtlety and intelligence of the woman herself, and it was a pleasure to answer them freely and playfully.
"Growing up, I wasn't sure I had a sense of humour. No-one would have pointed at the 10 or 15 year old Susies and said 'destined for comedy', or indeed destined for anything."
The second was for a new independent platform called The Short Story which is... devoted to the short story, as it rather implies in that title. They asked me about 'The Short Hello' and about comedy writing, and I found myself holding forth quite copiously, then cutting it back into a sturdy bonsai version." -you offer your eyes to the reader, they can climb in behind them to see what you see, although they are simultaneously watching that person as a stranger and judging them. In that sense, the story becomes a dialogue with the reader."The benefit to the giver (i.e. me) of giving (i.e. those interviews) is... that being asked about your work gives you cause to examine it and in so doing, sometimes, little bits of worry about it are brought into the light, prodded, better understood, smoothed out - for me, I mean.
I don't know if they help anyone in their own process, although I've often found solace and useful thinking in interviews with others, and been glad to receive them.
Trumpets aside, those are the sound reasons for agreeing to do such things.
