My Interview on Live TV

I did it! I faced my demon fears and spoke in pithy, flippant comments about my book! I survived being an author on national queer TV ("On Q Live" produced by Q Television Network).

The Unexpected Reward:

An on-camera up-close dance with a go-go dancer. But first. . .

The Beginning of the Journey:

A long train ride alongside the Pacific Ocean.

The Arrival:

Hal, the very friendly the segment producer, picks me up from my snooze spot in the lobby of the Burbank Airport Hilton.

The Long Wait:

As Margaret Cho hides in her dressing room, the other guests perch on enormous couches in a freezing warehouse. It's 2 1/2 hour wait.

First Glimpses:

The production assistant gives me a tour of the set. Bright colorful bar area, lounge, brass pole. The lights are not as bright as I expected, but it buzzes with the hyper-charged feel of a hallucination. I have decided not to prepare canned answers, but what if I freeze and turn mute in full color?

Saskia, a co-host, comes by to introduce herself. She's a former Olympic soccer player and is gone in a flash.

Crossing the Threshold:

"I assume you are someone who wants to look natural," says the make-up artist. He starts with pancake foundation that looks the color of a mudslide.

My make-up is done and I look worse, the bags under my eyes are enormous. I've never noticed them before; is it the lighting? Or is it the fact that I've been getting four hours of sleep a night?

Wenda, the drag queen, comes by for her make up. She's fabulous, and we chat. I'm so glad she'll be interviewing me. Inspired by Wenda's make-up, I say to the make-up guy, "Make me look wilder!"

"What about the serious author look?"

"Oh, you know. People are complex."

"Yeah, I was a banker and now I'm a make-up artist for queer TV."

The green eye shadow goes on and I have an allergic reaction and my eye stings like hell. He makes my lips bigger, like one of those blow-up dolls in a porn shop. He's irritated when I point out that one side of my mouth is much bigger than the other. Help!

In my nervousness (my palms are sweating like a garden hose on full blast) I start telling stories about the students I met yesterday at UC San Diego, where I was a guest author. One of the troubled young students told me my book gave her hope. I'm still high from the experience; "That's why I wrote the book," I say. I'm telling anecdotes! I can do this!

I meet the female go-go dancer in the bathroom. She has huge hair dyed blue at the tips and is near naked. Like everyone I run into, I assault her with manic chatter. I speak about my previous life go-go dancing in New York, and she tells me about the lesbian clubs where she dances. Her blue shorts are a couple inches high and a foot wide--about the size of my (new porn doll) lips.

The Show Starts:

The dancers begin the show; we are right next door watching from TV's hung over our heads. I look at my watch. It's still an hour before I'm on air.

"Okay," says one of the producers, walking into our waiting area. "You can do anything you want, but no cursing and no nudity."

Fellow Guests:

The Notorious Cho. It's seems like everyone I tell about being on the show with comedian Margaret Cho says they know her and tells me to say Hi.

Alyson: The Smooth Grooves Singer. Alyson wears stiletto boots with leather ties and arrives looking bullet-proof camera ready.

I tell her I'm an author and an introvert, and she says, "You don't seem like an introvert."

The singer's publicist grabs me, "You are just who I should talk with. I just finished a book! I don't know what to do with it."

"So your manuscript is ready to send out?"

"Yes, I checked the spelling and everything," she says.

Ted: The Beverly Hills Gay Psychiatrist Energy Healer. Dressed in black, with perfect curly locks and silky skin. Ted says,"Breathe pink crystalline energy into your heart."

"Yeah? Okay." I'll do anything.

"You are so open," he tells me.

"You're gorgeous," I say.

We hold our hearts, breath deep, and cling to one another. We talk about sex and love and fear and really bad but funny dates, one of those heightened-reality-nerves-on-fire back stage talks.

My Good Luck Talisman:

A student gave me an army jacket yesterday, just like the one Girl, the main character in Crashing America, wears. He wrote her list of seven truths on the inside pockets. I'm going to whip it out and show it to the hosts when I'm on camera.

My On-Air Trip

"Okay, I'm going to take you back now," says the production assistant. He leads me through a dark labyrinth and I get wired for sound. Margaret Cho leaves the set and sails by in her belly dance costume. We exchange a few words before I'm led into the belly of the beast.

Joe, a co-host says, "And next up, Kateeena!" Okay. What the hell. I'm Kateeena.

A shaven headed, scrawny kid says, "In a minute I'm going to come get you." I see my book cover up on the screen of a high TV.

It's blazing with lights now. Rather than staging me on the sofa, Scrawny leads me to the bar counter. A blue martini glass beckons me. I want a real drink! The seats are high and I tell him I don't want to get on the seat while on camera--too awkward. The main director guy gives a fast change of directions to his crew, then looks me right in the eyes and says in the voice of a true Top, "We are here to make you comfortable."

The color blinks and I am at the center of a swirling vortex, then the whole crew is saying, "5, 4, 3, 2, ACTION." I swing my bar stool around. I'm loose! Saskia squeezes Wenda's large drag-queen breast. The music is playing. Then she says, "Welcome!"

I'm so on air! I'm so ready for this. "It feels great to be here!" I say. (Actually I feel like I'm peaking on LSD.)

"That's the biggest smile I've seen from you since you arrived!" says Saskia.

I have no idea where the cameras are. I don't care. Saskia's eyes turn into pools of endless attention, and she is looking so sweetly at me.

"So tell us about your book."

I answer without thinking or blinking. I've answered this question 4,528 times in the last three months.

More questions fly my way. Whoosh, whoosh. Saskia and Wenda keep going right to the next question on the teleprompter, while I keep staring in Saskia's face trying to focus. God, she's beautiful.

They ask me about the heartland and what I found. My chance to say something about my years of research.

"Well, after driving for a few hours I found it very flat." Oh, wow. Where did that answer come from? Saskia laughs.

Then she prompts me again, and I say how much I loved the big sky. They ask me about whether I found what I was looking for. "I didn't find it to be a big happy American pie family land. I found abandoned farms, boarded up towns---"

"Wal-Mart," mouths Wenda--we had talked about this in the dressing room, but I just nod, not realizing I'm supposed to catch this ball and go with it.

"So you've had some interesting jobs. Tell us about them," says Wenda.

I mention go-go dancing, and then that I was a roofer on an all-woman construction crew.

"Oh, really?" says Saskia.

"You like that?" I say.

"I'm blushing," she says. (By far the best moment of the interview.)

I show them the wonderful army jacket the student gave me the day before, but somehow that's over quick. I had hoped to read a list of seven truths my character wrote and the student had copied on the pockets.

The most meaty thing I end up saying about the book is that the book tries to get past stereotypes about people--there are Christian punks, gay farmers. It's about blurring those blue-state /red state distinctions. (Later it occurs to me that I never got to the themes of place and belonging and . . .)

She asks me about my next book. And then it's done. I'm so relieved. I am SO relieved. The singer is up next, but we are on camera behind her.

We all cheer and toast at the end. To my surprise, there is one more segment. And everyone is telling me (because they all heard about my past vocation)to go up with go-go dancer and dance.

The dancer beckons and grabs my hand. I follow her to the platform. She says,"Go ahead. Work the pole."

"No way," I say. "I'll work you."

And this is how I found myself at the end of a long day, live on national television, grabbing the bare waist of a  young sprite, dancing my brains out.

Hallelujah!