Oh. Em. Gee.
I still can't believe I missed a Twitter invite to appear on HuffPost Live two weeks ago.
I had experienced web woes and was off social media and e-mail for four days, only a few months after I vowed to never take a Twitter break. It wasn't deliberate, though. Before my internet issues I checked Twitter all day, everyday.
So of course the minute I lose access, I receive a possible once-in-a-lifetime opportunity – early in my writing career might I add.
I want a do-over. Who misses out on the HuffPost? Live.
As in no “Action!” or “Cut!” Not even a “Previously recorded” in the top right of the window?
My introversion (or maybe that was shyness and there is a difference) probably wouldn't have been ready for a next-day, on-the-air interview. One of those attributes reminded me as I shared my good news.
This impromptu-averse speaker needs rehaearsals. Hours of them. Never mind I know the topic – skinny-shaming – intimately. What I didn't know was if questions for this particular segment would be provided in advance, if there were other guests or if the interview would be in the form of a panel or debate.
Confrontation isn't my thing.
Then paranoia piped in with its opinions. Your hair is overdue for a touch up. Your brows haven't met thread in months. Your lashes are tangled. And your voice is kinda high.
And what if you can't quickly answer a particular question? Or what if you stumble over your words and lose authority?
Public humiliation isn't my thing either.
But I'm also pressed to hold book tours one day, meeting my supporters and reading book excerpts. The idea of hosting, guest-appearing, guest-lecturing and conducting writing workshops is actually intriguing. Exciting.
Exciting enough to make salon appointments and practice speaking into a webcam, looking for my good angle. Bring on the publicity and speaking engagements.
I'm waiting for another invitation.