Diana Pierce And President Obama And I Are Not On TV

President Obama cut me off while I was talking vampires with Diana Pierce, which I never saw coming. I was okay with it, though...I think I even needed it. Because just when I think I've heard it all, something like that goes and happens. Which is good! It's never smart to forget the world's a weird place.

I had one of the best mornings ever, and not just because my teenager greeted me with, "I've got good news and bad; the good news is, you looked really pretty on TV." How often does a suburban mom get to hear that? And how shallow does it make me that I care? A) not more than once or twice a week, and B) really, really shallow. More than usual shallow. Bordering on Betsy shallow (yikes!); not one of my better qualities, but what can you do? Once a former Miss Congeniality, always a former Miss Congeniality.

Getting interviewed on TV is the best, unless you're the person of interest local law enforcement has been looking for. Believe me, that is not as exciting as it sounds. Don't fall for the hype! But if you're at the studio for other reasons, it's great. The place is always air conditioned (I'll admit I don't appreciate that as much in January), the green room is occasionally green, and the staff is unflappable. They can't be flapped in any way. After a while, you almost want to try and flap them, just to see them not flap. Which brings me to President Obama and how he couldn't flap them.

After the cheerful receptionist greeted me, the intern came out to bring me to the green-room-that's-actually-green. (I was always surprised when rooms that weren't green were called the green room.) Intern is an innocuous word for a job that's cooler and harder than can usually be summed up in two syllables. I wouldn't put the word up there with, say, teacher or doctor, but I'd put it up there with warden or hostage. Anyway, I've never run into one (intern, I mean) who was anything less than cheerful, professional, or harried, and today was no exception. In fact, given what they face each workday, I'm surprised interns aren't more wild-eyed, shrill, and/or tearful.

Like I said, this one was no exception; she came out to the reception area so she could bring me to the studio, and introduced herself so I could forget her name right away. I know...not too Cliched Big Shot, right? Is it worse that I instantly forgot names when I was a Cliched Little Shot, and a Cliched Nobody? That I think TV guests who don't recall proper nouns are Cliched Asshats? Because they absolutely are, and yep, I am their queen. You could donate a kidney and I'd still have to make an effort to remember your name: "I wanna say...Jenny?" "Beth." "Right! Thanks again for the gift of life, Seth." "Beth." "Right!"

Anyway, she explained that she wasn't sure when I'd be in front of the camera; apparently the president was going to make an announcement but they weren't sure when. So in addition to the crushing daily stress, the staff would have to be constantly be prepared to be interrupted on camera at any second for who knew how long, or maybe not, but be ready. Just thinking about it gave me a headache, but Her Name Escaped Me seemed to take the whole thing in stride. I always feel sorry for interns on account of their job being so horrific, and today promised to be worse than usual for her, but you'd never know it. You'll never catch an intern admitting to the horror of their job. Like retired people moving to Florid and pretending it's not hot (Mrs. Seinfeld: "Who wants hot chocolate!"), interns pretend their jobs don't entail long hours and constant stress for shit pay, or no pay. It's true! You can prompt them with lines like, "I can't imagine how stressful your job must be," and they'll smile and shrug off pressure that would give me an aneurysm.

But it was all good from where I was standing. I was square in the middle of the Kare 11 chaos because in a stroke of great good luck, one of the producers (I'm not using Christina's name, so as to protect Christina from the horrors of being blogged about) is a big Betsy fan. So this wasn't my first time at the rodeo. I'm not going to say that she schedules me to appear on an award-winning news show to find out how Betsy's going to avoid becoming the Big Bad of the future, because Christina is a thorough professional who puts the interests and needs of Kare 11's viewers ahead of her own summer reading list, but wouldn't it be the awesomest if she did? Think about how great that would be for me! A near-priceless PR opportunity practically in my own back yard, a chance not practical/foreseeable/feasible for 99 out of 100 writers, and it'd be right in my lap through no effort of my own! God, I get light-headed just thinking about it!

Anyway, back to the show. I told Her Name Escaped Me that I was camera-ready and could go on in five minutes or fifty, regardless of when Obama was coming on, or I could come back in a day or a week; however it worked for them. These things were all true, because the TV people were the ones doing me the favor; it wasn't the other way around. Her Name Escaped Me was thankful I wasn't lying on the floor drumming my heels and shrieking, "I wanna go on in the next segment I wanna go on in the next segment THE NEXT SEGMENT TELL OBAMA TO WAIT HIS DAMN TURN!" Oh, please. Like I'd ever act like such a brat if there wasn't chocolate involved.

Then Diana Pierce, the reporter, came in to meet me and talk about UNDEAD AND UNDERMINED. And I just went to pieces. Inside, where she couldn't see.

There's a reason I set most of my books in Minnesota: I've lived there the longest and I'm really, really lazy. I don't have to pop open Google to find out where 35W goes if you take the exit a few block's from Khan's. Oh, and also, I love Minnesota and think it's beautiful and feel lucky to live there, and when I wasn't living there I was homesick. When I chose to move to be with my husband, and knew I wouldn't be back for years, I cried. And because my parents had Kare 11 on all the time when we lived there, and when I visited, just hearing certain voices or names even as background would remind me of how homesick I was when I lived in Massachusetts. Even now, after living here for a decade, I'll hear a name and remember how much I missed living in Minnesota, and how happy I was when I moved back.

(Massachusetts, simmer down. You were beautiful, too, it just took me a while to appreciate you. And I love visiting you; I look forward to visiting you all year, I promise! I cried when I had to leave you, too, so don't get excited. Come to think of it, I cry a lot when I move. I guess I just really hate packing.)

Anyway, sorry to veer into the swamp of the sentimental, but there it is: certain names have deep significance to me, like Diana Pierce. Whose hand I was now shaking. I was touching Diana Pierce and she was talking to me. Two thoughts jumped into my brain as she introduced herself, and one of those thoughts was the truth and one was a lie. The lie was, "Hi, I'm not screaming inside my own head because it's so exciting to meet you because you are a symbol of all that I love about the great state of Minnesota, and I'm definitely not thinking about stealing your scarf or lipstick and keeping it hidden so I can secretly sniff it every morning after my Malt O'Meal."

I said the truth, which was, "What a pretty dress!" (It just seemed easier, and why needlessly alarm Diana Pierce?)

She said, smiling, "Thanks, I really like this dress. I got it last year and after a while some viewers asked if I had any other dresses, I was wearing it so often."

I thought: Those bitches! How dare they? HOW DARE THEY? They will rue the day, Diana Pierce! Just point them out to me, Diana Pierce, and I will kick their asses so hard their MOMS will feel it!

I said: "Well, that wasn't very nice."

I tried to get a grip on myself, and was a little successful since it's often total chaos inside my brain anyway, and this wasn't the first time I had to tell myself to just GET A GRIP already. So I told Diana Pierce that UNDEAD AND UNDERMINED had hit the New York Times list, and reminded her I'd gone to school in the area and was a Cannon Falls High School graduate, sort of a Local Girl Makes Good angle (which always sounded better than Local Girl Hears Voices).

Diana Pierce was pleased to hear it. Diana Pierce thought I was pretty great. "Also I'm the new David Hasselhoff in Germany," I added helpfully. Why? No reason. Wait...there was a reason. I had said that for a reason...the show! "They're making The Betsy Show in Germany." How great was it to bring that up?

It was exciting and cool just to be there, to have the chance to talk about my work on television, and of course it was exciting to meet Diana Pierce, but even better, it was acceptable to begin a conversation by telling Diana Pierce how terrific I was. Most times a reporter knows she's got maybe a minute and a half before the cameras come on to find out things she hopes will interest her viewers, so when I blurt "The Betsy Show in Germany", it not only makes Diana Pierce's job easier, it reminds everyone in the room (so, Diana Pierce and me) how terrific I am.

Before I knew it, Diana Pierce and I were gabbing a mile a minute, and had shifted from talking about Betsy (a fictional vampire and unemployed secretary) to Christina (a real life producer) and then incredibly, unbelievably, Diana Pierce said, "The three of us should have lunch! I think it'd be great if we could get together over lunch...we'd have so much to talk about! What do you think? Would you like to?"

What do I think, Diana Pierce? I think you've got a mean streak. I think you're playing a cruel joke. Because the obvious answer to, "Would you like to?" is yes. Would I like to see world peace in my lifetime? Yes. Would I like to crack the top ten on the NYT list? Yes. Would I like to have lunch with you and Christina? Doy, yes! (I'm trying to bring 'doy' back.) Doy, doy, a thousand times doy!

"Well, sure," I told Diana Pierce. "I mean, I'm sure I can fit you in. Go right ahead and mark me down for that one, ha ha!" My mouth has never been this dry. I have never uttered a faker laugh. My mouth is the Sahara. My laugh is the cackle of a dying parrot.

Now we're in the studio. I've been miked (and it didn't hurt a bit!). Nobody knows if Obama's going to have anything to say, or when he might say it (or not say it). The intern tells me to "go ahead and sit with Di", like Diana Pierce is a normal person another normal person could just go and sit with, like they were both normal. She's so adorable, thinking people can just sit down with Diana Pierce like that!

So I sit, I remind myself to sit up straight (I have a tendency to turtle...I can form my upper body into a perfect C without half trying). We're going live in about two minutes. We're talking like normal people. I have no idea what we're talking about. Probably vampires. Or books. Maybe both. Who knows? Like I can keep track of the voices inside my head AND Diana Pierce's voice? I'm just a woman, dammit!

We're live! Diana Pierce says something along the lines of readers being able to sink their teeth into UNDERMINED, and I cough up my strangled parrot laugh, and then Diana Pierce is asking how I came up with Betsy, and right around the phrase "plumber vampires" we get cut off. Viewers aren't seeing me anymore (or hearing my 'ha ha' dying parrot laugh), they're seeing...a bunch of suits milling around. They've interrupted our regularly scheduled program to show...nothing. They are going to tell us that President Obama is going to have an announcement for us...but not now. In fact, Obama hasn't even left his office. The network is going live to show...Obama not being there.

I burst out laughing; it never fails to crack me up when they show"LIVE at the bottom of the screen so we can see they are RIGHT THERE for the BREAKING NEWS that nothing is happening at that particular spot at that particular time, LIVE, right before our very eyes.

So Diana Pierce and I sit there, miked, watching...nothing. "If they cut back to us within two minutes, we can finish," Diana Pierce tells me, so we wait for the news to stop telling us they don't have anything to tell us, so I can go back to talking about plumber vampires. Unfortunately, they need the entire two minutes to tell us nothing. We're done; it's time for me to go.

Diana Pierce apologizes. Christina apologizes, and Her Name Escaped Me apologizes, which is really nice of them because what just happened was beyond their control. I threaten to come back. I mean, offer. I offer to come back. They pretend I'm the one doing them the favor, and agree to have me back on the show within the week. We talk for a bit longer about the UNDEAD series and my upcoming release, A WOLF AT THE DOOR, which is the first full-length werewolf book I've done since DERIK'S BANE. Right! Because this is my job and that's why I'm here, to talk about my job, which in this case is writing books. Not only do I get paid to do that, people then want me to come on television and talk about doing that. Which is why I'm here. I remember now! It's all coming back to me...

I de-mike myself and give Diana Pierce the mike. Then Diana Pierce asks for my cell number again, because the first time I couldn't hear her over all the static in my brain ("Kkksssttttt...Diana Pierce is talking to usssssskkkkkttttttt!"). Christina tells me she thinks lunch is a great idea, and we'll set something up. Of course lunch is a great idea. Of course we'll set something up. Because this sort of thing happens all the time. A TV producer wants to have lunch with Diana Pierce (no surprise) and me (gigantic shocker)! Ssssssskkkkkkkkttttttttttt!

Then I'm outside, blinking in the sunshine and clawing for my cell phone. It's so exciting! It's all so cool and exciting and this is my life and I'm lucky, lucky, in the whole world there's not one person luckier than me, so I call my assistant to tell her, and when she answers I greet her with, "Oh my God it was just too much fun and can you believe viewers can be that catty? It was a great dress. I think it's nice that Diana Pierce has good taste in clothes plus she's sensible about getting her money's worth. Plus they want me back and hopefully I'll get to come on and talk about A WOLF AT THE DOOR in addition to the next Betsy, right? I mean, I didn't even think of that, I was just jazzed to be there. Christina was really psyched about A WOLF AT THE DOOR, so maybe I can, you know? Wouldn't that be great? And the intern was really good at pretending her job wasn't a living nightmare what with all the stress, it must be just like being in Hell except everybody's great looking and has nice clothes. She never knew when Obama was going to interrupt us, none of them knew but they were super nice about it. I mean, that's what I'd expect but it's still great to see for myself, right?"

"Well, that's good," Tracy replied, because she's great at knowing what I'm talking about with no prep or hint of any kind. "Did they say when they could reschedule?"

"Reschedule?"

"Reschedule you to come back on the show."

"Why would--?" Oh. Oh! Right. Reschedule being on the show. In all the excitement of not being on the show, I'd forgotten I wasn't on the show. "Right! Reschedule. Gotcha." Of course, I'd have to check with Obama before I rescheduled a damned thing, but once we coordinated our schedules... "Sure, reschedule."

So I went home, and when I walked into the house my teenager had good and bad news. Good news: she thought I looked great on TV. Bad news: "They cut you off to show us a bunch of suits milling around because nothing was happening, and to tell us the President wasn't ready with his announcement and hadn't left his office yet. And then you never finished talking about plumber vampires because it was over."

Breaking news, bay-bee! And to think, a moment of living history, and I was there.