Interviewing myself

In trying to come up with an idea for my first column for this newspaper, I played with various themes in my head. The very first of anything is always significant and if you are a journalist, anything you write is of serious import. Well, perhaps I should correct that statement. It should be of serious import but that only applies if you are a proper writer. If not, then any old rubbish you toss out at the unwitting public would still allow you to sleep at night — and quite well too. Of course, when you have an unwitting public that is hog in mud happy over their unwittingness, then they deserve what they get. But for anyone who resolutely pursues this art form, every piece of writing is a confession.

It’s a shred torn from your heart and your mind that you’ve decided to share, that you’ve opened up to criticism, that you’ve released into the world with a kiss and a hope for good luck to find its fortune. So I eventually came up with the idea of doing a general introduction to myself. The thing is, I’m not certain exactly what I should say. I’ve interviewed lots of people but I’m not  sure I can interview myself and then write the story, which is essentially what this column will be equal to. It feels like a breach of some sort of journalistic code. It certainly feels like a breach of some psychological code. I’m starting to feel positively schizophrenic!

The thing is I can’t make a cut and dry statement like “I’m a political commentator.” I really do try to avoid wasting brain cells on hopeless cases and if politics in this country isn’t a prime example of a hopeless case, then I don’t know what is. But I do comment and write about things political when so inspired. Neither am I a social butterfly. If you want to know the best way to fold your napkins for a dinner party honouring your half sister’s third husband’s promotion I’d say who gives a fig, they’re just going to yam down all the food and bad talk it afterwards anyway. Give them paper napkins and call that George. Better yet, order a pizza. I’m a rather eclectic sort of person and my writing often reflects that. So one week I’ll write about euthanasia.

The following week I may write about a shoe sale. Which brings me to another point. I’m somewhat contradictory. Which makes me in no way different from other writers out there, but the dissimilarity between them and myself is that I have no problem admitting it. At least on paper. Tell me that to my face and we may have a problem. I’m deeply sarcastic and also a tad irreverent. There are few things in this world too sacred to comment truthfully on or make a joke about. I’ve paused for a moment to think up an example of what one of these things may be but nothing comes to mind, thus proving my point. At this moment when I’m writing this column, (Sunday morning after too light a breakfast) a friend is upset with me for making a joke about the Pope’s death. As if he hasn’t been dying for the past few years.

As if he was in the pink of health climbing the Himalayas and converting the heathen Sherpas when he dropped down among the alpine flowers of a heart attack. Besides, every Catholic around the world should rejoice he’s off to “meet his Maker.” It’s not to say they have to worry about whether or not he’s bought a one way ticket to the other place. Anyway, I digress. I’ve won a number of awards for my writing, although that doesn’t necessarily vouch for its quality. Some of the people I know who have won journalism awards are the most atrocious writers, but I guess when entering these things as a hobby, eventually one gets lucky.

But I mention the awards not to brag (well, not too much) but I am aware that for some readers it would lend me a bit more credibility and have them less likely to be scratching their heads and wondering why for the love of God did the newspaper ask me to write for them. So I don’t promise to be conventional. I certainly don’t promise to not ever offend, although I am pretty good at keeping that sort of column down to a minimum. I do promise to be funny and erudite and I do take my work seriously. People’s time is very valuable and I believe that if you decide to read my work we’ve entered into an unspoken contract. I will try to make reading me worth your while and if I don’t, then you could always email me at suszanna@hotmail.com and cuss me out. Just remember, it’s a private account so I’ll be well within my rights to cuss you back. Wink, wink.