Because I’d been struggling with building an audience for The Louise Log and because being on panels is one of the few free-bees that exist in the world of marketing a web series, the producer in me went to war with the scaredy-cat. “Go. Just GO.”
I remember my feet acting on their own, stepping down from the sidewalk onto the street to jaywalk and paying no attention to the silent scream in my head: “Hellllllllllllllllllp! Help me! HELP!”
The next thing I remember is an inexplicable and bizarre feeling of having a vertical version of a barcalounger type chair:
pressed against the back side of my body from shoulders down to my knees, pushing me, all the while supporting me, as I zoomed toward the front entrance of The Paley Center.
Once I have to actually function in the moment, like pulling open a door and asking a person which way to go, I seem to be able to manage.
And so I got to my seat on the stage and the panel went off without a hitch. People laughed at the right places. I learned things from the others, I even remember enjoying myself. And after it, Matthew Kirsch one of the best people in web series, introduced himself. How could I have let fear stop me from all this?
To quote Mr. Green (on his flaws of character): “I’m capable of anything.”
Back to 2016, after writing up Part 1 of this blog, the memory of the phantom barcalounger never even crossed my mind. For days I was relishing the new looseness and freedom from the plaster jacket in my back before I remembered the feeling of the barcalounger pressing into that same area.
It’s so obvious that the common elements seem to be:
a) extreme discomfort
b) surrender (which leads to:
c) asking for help
e) getting help from an inexplicable source
Sounds like I’ve only gotten to a) in the recipe to get me out the door to pitch.
Looks like I need a deadline.
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