Over the next few weeks, I'm scheduled to be interviewed by a number of newspaper journalists. I never know what to say in these interviews, or how much to disclose.
For example, if an interviewer asks me "What advice would you give to an engaged couple as they plan their wedding?" . . . I'm never certain if I should respond with something cutesy like "Don't!" or if I should wax philosophical and say something like, "Well, Skippy, it's all relative."
Usually I just quote Kierkegaard and call it a day.
In a few weeks I have an interview scheduled with a newspaper that covers events in my old home town, and I'm sure the dude will ask me questions like, "What was it like to graduate from North Central in 1979? Were you a love-child? How large were your bell-bottoms? Ever smoked a doobie? What was your wife's maiden name . . . and are her parents still living so I can contact them and verify their deep and abiding love for their son-in-law? And, didn't I do a story on you in 1977 when some kids t-peed the rival football stadium?"
Hope he doesn't recognize me. I'd rather he respect my body of work.
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