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.

(dramatic recreation)

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

d) feeling

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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