Even though, or perhaps because, I spent many years of my life on the other side of the tape recorder or camera or notepad, I find it nerve-wracking to give interviews to complete strangers (especially about something I care as much about as I do RallyMe).
The most daunting of these interviews are the phoners. A reporter calls you and asks you some questions. You never meet. Never see their eyes, their teeth... Your words go into the Cuisinart of the writer's brain, get diced into quotes, plated by expediting editors, served up as garnish. Side order of images. Comments for desert.
The resulting media meal can be surprising, sometimes bitter. So, I hold my breath to see how my words are served. And that's why I was exhaling with such a sated sigh this morning when I read the story by David Wharton that appeared in today's Chicago Tribune and LA Times. It's such a pleasure when a writer gets it right. Thank you, David Wharton for such a fine story.