I’m a list-maker. I’m a practice-run person. I like to do “just one more take.” In short, I like to get things right.

Normally I use my own pictures, but no one let me have a camera when I was a toddler, so I found this online. Someone was selling it on Etsy.

My dad likes to tell this story—I do not like this story—about when I was very small and had a Quiz-A-Tron. (Yes, I had to look this up and it took me a while to find the thing. Oh, the memories.) I vaguely remember this. It had little cards you would put into the big plastic thing that supposedly taught you things about spelling, language, or something. I can’t remember what was in them, I was probably five. But there was a row of lights next to each question and if you got the question right, one light would illuminate, if you got it wrong, no light. If you got all of the answers correct, it would play a little song.

The instant I got an answer wrong, I would open the lid and slam it shut to reset the game. I wasn’t playing against anyone else, mind you. This was merely me against me. It didn’t matter how many answers I had right before that, they all had to be right or else. When my dad tells the story, he also mentions that I used to dance to the little “A+ 100%” song. I do not remember this, but it doesn’t sound out of character.

What my dad does NOT bring up when he tells this anecdote is that his personal slogan is, “A job worth doing is worth doing right.” I got this from somewhere.

So obviously, I’m trying to do this writing thing “the right way.” I’m trying to market myself, I’m trying to support other writers, trying to continue to make friends in the community, etc. I’m well aware that I’m still figuring it all out, but I’m doing my best.

This week was a lesson in how well prepared one can be and still have things crash down around their ears.

Yesterday I had a live interview on a news channel. Another writer friend had “highly recommended” me, so, by God, I was going to slay. The recording was at 7:45 a.m. and I wanted to make sure my hair was dry, make-up on, etc. So I got up at 5 as usual, but skipped my physical therapy and moved weight training to the end of the day so I could get my run done and get in the shower. (Curly hair takes a while to dry.)

I had everything set up perfectly. I had my books placed within the frame, I had my desk looking like it wasn’t a disaster area. I even paid attention to my shirt against the backdrop. I logged on ten minutes early as requested, mic on, everything was good to go.

Technologically, everything went great. I was checked in, my camera slightly adjusted, audio was good, I was given warning as to when I would be going on and I went on. Now, bear in mind, this was three minutes. And although I’d done live interviews before, never one so short and never one on an actual news channel. We’d done a pre-interview the night before and they’d asked me for some quotes and materials which I put together and sent over. Receipt was confirmed, I was told it was all great. I was ready.

It was a few questions and done. As expected. But I was crushed once we finished. One or two of the questions weren’t what I had anticipated based on the pre-interview and I had to pivot, which is fine, I’ve pivoted before. But I had what I thought was an awkward pause, and as soon as I was done I thought of something better I could have said in response to one of the questions. I couldn’t help thinking I had messed up my three-minute chance to find new readers. And what would my friend who recommended me think? He’d never recommend me again, I was certain.

I probably took this harder than usual because the night before had also been a disaster.

I decided I wanted to do a giveaway for an author friend’s newly released book. He had been a big supporter of my debut and I thought this would be a great opportunity to support in return. I set up a giveaway and an Instagram Live time. I’d done this before a few times and it was always a ton of fun. Sometimes Instagram was challenging, but I thought I had the kinks worked out.

I took this screenshot at the start of the third try just to prove we’d been there. Originally I was going to post a reply, but, alas, all previous segments were eaten by the angry IG gods.

We did a practice run a few days before. We hit the glitch! We overcame the glitch! Success. I had questions prepared, he looked them over, we discussed timing, I did the Canva, we promoted it, we were ready to go.

The day came, I go live. For some reason it was IMPOSSIBLE to bring him into the live. We had people ready and waiting to engage. But I had to log off and log back in to try again. Thankfully that time it worked. We celebrated that we were finally in the interview. We got it going. People were engaging, commenting on the book, it’s cover, invested in Jim’s synopsis, it was going great.

Then Instagram just dropped us.

As fast as I could, I logged back in. I was able to bring Jim back—not without difficulty, but we were back—and we resumed. Most of the audience had returned and a few new people logged in to watch. That was a rough start, but we thought surely now we’d be fine. No.

Instagram dropped us again. And then a third time.

By the time we’d reconnected after that third drop, we only had two people still hanging on. We finished the question we were on and said goodnight. I was so bummed.

The following day I vented to a few writer friends about it. Two of them had seen the Live we attempted. They said everyone understands technology doesn’t always work out and no one would be blaming me for it. They also said the parts of the interview that did get through were really interesting and that we looked like we were having fun together. (The giveaway was completed as planned and the book is on it’s way to a very excited reader.)

After telling them how terrible I was, a few friends said I should send them the news segment because they were sure it couldn’t be that bad. A few quotes:

“I wish I could fail like this.” “I’m not just blowing sunshine. I was ready to see you bomb. But it was the opposite.” “Okay, that was good, I just watched it! You’re high.”

So I may have been trying to slam my Quiz-A-Tron shut too quickly.

My final point is that this is something I’ve been learning and re-learning all my life: the only thing you can truly control is yourself. At least now I’m getting to where I let my friends talk me off ledges and move on more quickly to the “laugh at myself” stage.

Whaddaya mean I can't control everything?