Right, it’s not that I absolutely want to come back on the amazing episode of me being interviewed over the phone, but, still, I have to admit that, within a few days, my life has almost been turned upside down. I owe you a small minutes of the days I became a star.
Or almost…
Sunday
– 19h00: We’re coming back from a walk in Paris. While the man is bathing the kids – he is an ideal father on top of being an awesome lover but I won’t tell more because since I mentioned him in this blog he has a slight tendency to show off – I rush to my mailbox. After three hours without drumming on my keyboard, I started to feel withdrawal symptoms.
– 19h10: It’s there. THE email from THE person who’s supposed to spot me amongst thousands of Internet bloggers. This email expected innocently, without mentioning it for fear of looking like a pretentious fool. Right, let me stop you right away, we’re not talking about Valérie Toranian, let’s be serious.
– 19h11: He is a journalist from a radio. He has a slot in the morning at about five during which he speaks about blogs. Yeah but it’s a start at least. He asks me if I would agree to be interviewed.
– 19h14: I storm in the bathroom, shouting. The man’s face is white, he thought someone died.
– 19h16: My son would like to understand why his mum is red and shouting.
– 19h18: I feel that it’ll take me two day to make my little boy understand what a blog is and why I’m hysterical when a radio journalist is going to interview me.
– 19h20: “It’s nothing actually sweetie. It’s just that mummy is becoming famous. Like Dora The Explorer, you see? ”
– 19h22: My daughter starts crying because Dora doesn’t exist and she doesn’t want her mum to become a cartoon. I leave the man trying to find the right words, for now I’m too shaken myself.
– 19h25: I delete for the tenth time my answer, I would like to look natural and enthusiastic but nonetheless dignified and full of distance.
– 19h45: “Dear D., I will play along with your interview with pleasure. I don’t have much time during the day but I can totally take a week off for you to be able to call me at anytime. The best is for me to give you my cell phone number as well as my work and home landline. Thanks a mil for being interested in my prose, I will be forever grateful. By the way, should you require a remuneration feel free to let me know.”
– 19h50: “D., I’m writing again to give you my mother’s contact details as well as my best friend’s, in case you don’t manage to reach me on the other numbers.
– 19h52: “D., another word, I realise I forgot to mention how much I like what you do. And sincerely, I would tell you even if you’d finally decide to cancel the interview. Hoping it will not be the case, of course.”
– 20h00: I’m afraid I’ve put too much distance or sounded too detached.
– 20h10: I have the man read what I sent, he doesn’t seem to think I’m too detached. He asks me with a weird look if it’s however possible to recall the messages before D. reads them. I’m a bit worried.
– 20h40: I called my whole contact list to announce the news. I’m not sure they all grasped the consequences of what’s happening to me.
MONDAY
– 04h12: I wake up sweating, I’m afraid it was only a dream. I switch on my laptop, the message is still there.
– 08h14: I check my emails again.
– 10h00: D. sends me another message asking me to explain my blog’s how and why.
– 12h00: It’s the fourth version of my explanations, however brief I want it to be, I don’t see how I can skip the time when my mother forced me to wear a brown kilt in 5th grade. Without this event, there might not be a blog. In an artist’s life, there are founding events you can’t skip.
– 12h30: I’ve visibly reached the maximum limit in terms of allowed characters in an email. It’s incredible, in less than 30.000 characters you can’t say anything, not the main things anyway.
– 16h00: “Dear Caroline, thank you for your explanation. I think I have enough input with these 20 pages. May I remind you the interview will last only a few minutes. Don’t write to me until I contact you. I beg you. D.”
– 16h10: I feel something very strong is happening between D. and me. It’s so tough he’d rather take some distance. The man will be sad, probably, but if the two of us must have a passionate love affair, there will be nothing he can do. My god, what will happen to the kids?
– 17h00: I start to understand the suffering of famous people. Fame forces you to make cruel choices and makes you weak. I feel weak by the way. Luckily I have my family, they stay my anchoring point. And I almost left them.
– 17h10: I call the man to tell him I’ll never leave with a famous man. I will never sacrifice the fruits of my loins. I promise I’ll stay the same. I swear there’s only mutual admiration between D. and me and a professional bond he can’t understand.
– 17h12: The man asks me not to forget the bread.
– 20h00: The interview is tomorrow. I’m scared. I feel there will a before and an after.
– 21h00: I’m wondering if there’s still time to stop the diabolical machine of fame. Once I’ll be on the radio, gone will be quiet restaurant evenings, as well as incognito walks.
– 21h10: The man informs me he might not be able to stand me for much longer.
– 21h30: I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for my family. Only a few days after my entering the elite and my couple already is shaky.
To be continued…
