Today was one of those meteoric emotional days, highs and lows, angst and laughter – and all the result of running this magazine.
I thought I had ended my work day on an up note, but instead of getting to my bed at a decent hour, I elected to make some late-nite progress. This forey into vampirism (minus the blood sucking) threw me in the path of the publicist I’d been chasing for days now, turning down my interview request.
Not that it’s the first time – how many years have we been running this little corner of cyberspace? Mostly, there are unpredictable variables and the impossibility of rooting out the cause of the decline. Sometimes publicists attempt to drum up press attention for their clients but the artists get crabby, or publicists believe their clients to be so bogged down with obligations that they filter the requests w/o the artist’s awareness (Part of their job, btw..), and sometimes publicists are so busy they don’t even bother to tell you to fuck off. Then there are times when the artist isn’t engaging in any press because they’re in the studio, taking time off, or whatever.
I guess my point is that I don’t take it personally. However, really wanting to interview someone and persuing the issue – it’s still a big disappointment when it doesn’t come through. We aren’t Rolling Stone or Vanity Fair or Playboy, and I periodically wonder if that isn’t a factor; not that a publicist would admit as much.
So yeah, I’m bummed I didn’t get my interview. Shuffle my feet in the dirt, hang my head and stick out my pouty lip sad. But instead of licking my wounds and moving on, I’m trying a new tactic called perseverance. If nothing else, maybe I’ll wear her down and she’ll give me my interview just to get rid of me!