Tomorrow is my book launch in Quebec City and I’m sitting here second-guessing which selections I’m going to read. This is because the Voice of Doom is telling me they all stink.
“Maybe ‘stink’ isn’t the right word,” says the VOD. “I think ‘suck’ is a more accurate word.”
Of course they don’t suck, Voice of Doom, so can it.
“How about this then: no one wants to hear you talk and talk and talk for 40 minutes,” sneers the VOD.
Oh that. Yeah, well that’s probably true.
I’ve done readings before. I’m a good reader. I’m animated. I don’t drone. I may, however, make weird facial expressions. (“Let’s go to the tape, Jim.”) But, good lord, sometimes I do get sick of hearing myself. And if I do, even with my gigantic ego and all, surely others must as well.
Talking doesn’t come naturally to me. I much prefer listening while grazing at the cheese and veggie tray, which is difficult to do when you’re prattling on. I have my priorities. So when I do talk at length, it feels… weird.
Hopefully, the blah-blah-blah will be interspersed with guffaws, chortles, chuckles and many other words listed in my thesaurus. But I’ve never read these pieces before in public. What if instead of the laugh there’s just the big thud of silence? Which is why I’m second-guessing. Because they suck.
Voice of Doom, get out of here!
After I get through this event tomorrow, I have the second launch at home Saturday. That one’s in front of friends and colleagues.
Speaking of droning, here’s my latest radio piece about how best to pretend to do those outdoor jobs, chores and yard work, which I have decided should be known collectively as “chorbwork.” You’re welcome, English language. Incidentally, the part about the bikini girls across the street doing my neighbour’s raking? All true.
P.S. It’s been a busy couple of weeks, which has kept me away from my WP reading. I’ll be back soon, kibitzing and nibbling the bocconcini. Fresh post later this week — and it’s about moms!