Ready for my closeup

How this came about.

An email pops into my inbox. A lady at the BBC would like to speak to me about an upcoming item for Radio Scotland. Me? Really? Finally! I’ve been found, plucked from the masses to be elevated to the higher echelons of society. It’s art you see, well the “Arts Show” sweetie, darling, mwah mwah (sorry J Mo!)

So I call Vivienne from the BBC and she tells me she’s a researcher and wants me to talk about influences, Scottish Blogs and read a few snippets from my site. Excitedly I say “Yes of course!” whilst leaping up and down like a demented Jack Russell. Fame! Infamy? (they’ve all got it…).

We chat a bit about Rebecca Blood, Scottish Blogs and why I started. She’s delighted and says she’d love me to come into the studio to record a few bits and bobs for the ‘piece’ (unlike American movies this is not a gun, nor like Scottish lunchtimes is this a sandwich, it is a radio term for filler content… I think…). We agree times and she says she’ll confirm by email.

A couple of days later another email from Vivienne at the BBC arrives. Alas my inner gadget freak is to be disappointed, I’m not required to come to the studio, I can just phone her and she’ll record it that way. Slight disappointment is replaced with a small knot of anxiety… What if I sound terrible? What if I muck it all up and they can’t use any of it? Deep breaths now. Relax. You’ve done this before, admittedly on a smaller scale but it’s hardly a life altering event. There, you look much better now you’ve stopped dragging air in and out of that paper bag.

The day arrives. I’m surprisingly calm. I’ve read (ok, AND edited) the posts to be recorded. I’ve a rough idea what to say having gone over some of the other questions we chatted about. Everything will be fine. The phone rings. I pause, letting it ring twice then answering on the third ring (no I dunno why either but I do remember making a conscious decision to let it start it’s third ring.. weird, no?).

And it starts, everything goes well, I only stutter once, and know to pause before restarting to make it easier to be edited (old pro that I am). The main pieces done, the ‘interview’ bit starts and I talk about Scottish Blogs, why I started and a couple of other things that weren’t broadcast.

Then she asks “And does your wife read the site?”. Unrehearsed! Cold panic.

Hearing it back it should be fairly obvious that I stumbled through that part, it sounds clumsy to my ears anyway, but then everyone is their own worse critic. I’ll clarify what I was trying to say at a later date I think… someone remind me.

Then all of a sudden, well twenty minutes later, it was all over. Done. Finished. In the can.

“Ohh that was brilliant!” she enthuses. I blush slightly, but it was nice of her to say it (now if she’d only remembered to tell me that it would definitely be broadcast LAST Tuesday but she was on holiday so I’ll forgive her – hey, I’m a sucker for a cute voice..).

Note – in case you can’t be bothered listening to my drone – this is an ongoing ‘series’ of pieces about blogging, Tom Watson MP will feature and you’ve already missed a blogger from Chicago.

Impressions? Well I’m not sure how interesting it is to people who don’t have a blog and don’t ‘get’ why people would even want one (my wife half falls into that category – tolerant understanding I call it) but it’s good to see the phenomenon noted and given some space. Only suggestion would be to allow the blogger to choose the pieces to be broadcast, within agreed limits or something, or at least allow them to put forward 3 or 4 to be considered, if you are having an unusually bad, or good, week then it almost seems like cheating as people may visit your website expecting one thing and getting the other… but then what do I care? It’s my website… right?

Still, it was fun while it lasted but now the spotlight is swivelling away, searching out the next shining star to highlight. So what next? I’ve been in a magazine, in a book, and on the radio… TV is the last bastion of blog-related fame left to me!

I’m off to call my agent.