Carolyn Erickson

I do. I really, really do. (*Sally Field voice* … and while we’re on the subject, have you seen her? It’s enough to make you want to start taking Boniva. Or slathering it on as night cream. Or something.)

 Anyway, I do love interviews. I didn’t grow up wishing I could be an interviewer someday, but it’s a surprisingly fun part of being a writer. Of course, if my parents and career-counselors had been paying attention, they might have gotten a clue that this is the career for me when “talks too much in class” kept showing up on my report cards every year.

There are lots of reasons to love interviews:

* Have trouble getting your kid to sleep at night? Start an article and call up the biggest expert in the country who has a new book out and ask them what you should do.

* Want to know whether raw chicken is more likely than pre-packaged salad to have Salmonella germs? Call someone. Do an article.

* Wonder if that work-at-home company with the late-night infomercials is scamming innocent retirees out of thousands of dollars? Pitch a story, then go behind the scenes and start talking to people.

Even when an interview is on a subject you thought you have no interest in, listening to someone talk passionately about it makes it interesting.

And of course, listening is actually more important to interviewing than talking. And I’m a great listener, because being a great listener is SO easy. All it requires is asking a question and then shutting up. That doesn’t take much skill, and makes people remark about what an excellent conversationalist you are.

But this is what I’m getting at: Normally I leave an interview feeling quite jazzed and the article starts to formulate in the chemistry of my brain while I pat myself on the back for being a real pro at listening and getting a lot of good information. But recently I’ve discovered something that makes me, as Monk would put it, “L-O-L out loud.” (Please, USA Network, hurry up with new Monk episodes. I’m so desperate I’m starting to blog about it.)

Anyway, I’ve had two interviews recently that just I just didn’t seem to wrap up tightly as usual. I was mildly uncomfortable with my performance as an interviewer, just felt like I hadn’t been at the top of my game. At first I was stymied about what caused this blip in my usually productive process. The experts were pleasant and helpful - it wasn’t that. I had prepared my questions and done my research so it wasn’t that either. And it wasn’t that I hadn’t gotten the information I needed. So what was it?

And last night, in the peaceful, hazy rambling that the mind does as you’re just drifting off to sleep, the answer plopped up to the surface like a bobber does when you’ve lost the 100 pound Bluegill you will forever swear you had hooked. (Yes, that Bluegill was 100 pounds if it was an ounce. I swear it.)

Both of these strangely off-kilter conversations had been with people who counsel other people. One is a psychologist and career counselor and the other is a life coach. More than once during each of the conversations, when I did my usual “Oh I know what you mean because I’ve had that happen” thing, both of them stopped in the middle of their answer and asked me a question - something along the lines of, “And in what way did that challenge you?”

I would stammer and flub about and try to explain my comment and try to get back on track to listening once more. This conversation wasn’t supposed to be about me, but it was so… so tempting to rattle on about myself and have them say, “um-hmm, um-hmm,” and ask me leading questions until I got to the root of my issue and mapped out a plan of action for accomplishing what I was put on this earth to do.

I thought I was good. But these people, as my daughter would say, are even gooder.

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