Weblog Sin Pies

By Charley Daniels

So, the panel. It was just sort of okay. Not great, not horrible. Once again, mediocrity rules my existence. I feel like if more awesome or terrible things would happen to me, I could use that material to come up with something really interesting. But no.

The panel was put on by Ed2010, which seems to be a pretty cool national organization for aspiring writer-editor types. Apparently it’s been around a while? Here’s what the website has to say about the panel I was part of:

Summer is still sizzling, so catch a break with your local Edsters! In L.A., Ed is hosting a panel called “How to get a job in New Media.” Join ‘em on August 26 for an informative talk with some top-ranking online editors to find out how to make the transition from print to Web and what skills you need on your resume to get it.

Enticing, right? You would go, wouldn’t you?

The first thing we did was introduce ourselves and tell the assembled crowd where we work and what we do. The person just before me works for NPR now, but she used to work for Variety, she told the crowd. So then it was my turn and I said, “I’m Charley Daniels and I’m a news editor for The Hollywood Reporter dot com,” and then I shot her my best jokey “we’re rivals, right?” glance, which of course no one got, because who is going to make that connection ever, let alone on the paper-thin grounds our information foundation is resting on? A half-second before it happened I realized it was stupid, but my brain was working faster than my neck and face muscles. It was also dim and the overall vibe was loud and distracting, and in that environment it probably didn’t look like the calculated, subtle maneuver that it was — it likely just looked like some sort of mild seizure, or maybe even a flirty move, like, “That’s right, baby, THR.com.” What an asshole.

That was as foolish as I got, I’m glad to say. The rest went by blessedly quick. All of my prepared jokes were left undelivered, as I’d mistakenly come up with them using a list of questions that I made up in my head. Oops. Guess I should have studied the real questions a bit more before I concocted hilarious answers. I had a real show-stopper of a bit about being offered the job of night news editor, a joke where the homophones “night” and “knight” factored heavily. Unfortunately, I apparently imagined the question that was to prompt that joke, so it was not be.

The venerable Sarah Kuhn, she of Great Hera! and Alert Nerd fame, live Twittered the occasion. Some choice tweets from her:

Charley sat in the back…wuss!!!

That’s true. The setup was this: four bar stools, two La-Z-Boys, and a standard chair. The bar stools were in the back, true, but they were also right by the bar. That’s a pretty easy decision.

This panel is making me feel like I’ve timewarped back to 1999…hell yes where is my tech vest?

That’s as good a scene-setter as I’ve ever seen. Then the talking began:

Charley!!! Yer making teh other pabelists nod in agreement!

She’s getting used to typing on an iPhone, but I think what she’s saying here is both obvious and awesome. No idea what I said, but it must have been pretty smart if the other pabelists were nodding.

Oh gawd the is print dead question blarg

Yes, this was the part I was looking forward to least. “Is print dead? Dying? Just wounded? On life support with a greedy spouse ready to pull the plug? Does print have an estate attorney?” Mercifully, we had one of those moderators who feels like silence equals trouble, so as soon as there was a lull she was right on to the next thing. There was a lull at this point. It was also one of several moments during the discussion where it became clear that all of us read the question ahead of time and thought, “Eh, one of the other panelists will have something to say about that.” You know that old saying about not enough cooks in the kitchen…

Want more charley talk…charleeeeeeeeeey!!

So I wasn’t saying much during the second half of the panel, because discussion turned to the topic that was obviously of most import to the attendeees: “How can we make some money?” Freelance jobs and how to submit to new-media companies and resumes and stuff like that. That’s not really what I do. I edit stories and write headlines and choose photos and lay out the site. It turns out I’m not much of a panelist in this situation. I had some great jokes ready in case one of my imagined questions somehow made it into the program, but that’s like saying, “I would have been a world-class baseball player if only I brought my baseball glove.”

I think this panel is giving me a tipsy existential crisis

That right there is probably the most it did for anyone, ever.

Charley: where are my fucking groupies?!

Once I was no longer a panelist, it was time for me to ask the questions.

So that was that. I’m not sure I’ve painted a complete picture, but you get the gist. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Would they want me to do it again? Now there’s a question.

By Charley Daniels

Tuesday is my first panel discussion ever and quite possibly my last, too. All on the same day! I’m a little nervous.

What if I say something stupid? Or something so brilliant no one understands and it’s wasted? Or what if I accidentally start out the night by saying something perfect, smart, just right, and then the bar is too high?

I got the questions today, and they’re quite simple — which adds to my nervousness. When you’re on a panel and the moderator asks you a question, you can’t just be all, “Yes.” With an involved question, there’s no danger of that. At least you’ll stammer a little and say “um” and sigh a lot. That takes up some time.

The other thing about the questions is they’re more specifically personal than I imagined. I think the first one is about the panelists’ backgrounds and career path, something like that. And the rest follow that line of “in your experience…” or “what’s your advice for….” Which totally makes sense, because what the hell else are they going to ask me? And it’s perfect, because I generally know the answers to questions that begin with some sort of “tell me about you” query. But I’m still uneasy, because people will be looking at me. And other reasons as well.

What if they videotape it? Off-camera, I’m a medium-sized, medium-complected, standard-voiced dude. On-camera, I’m a weird, squat, pale, buzzing-voiced freak with a weird profile and no chin. (Feel free to let me know if this is actually how I am in real life, as well. If that’s the case, I guess I don’t have to worry about it.) Plus, one of the first things we learned growing up was video is often the best evidence that you’ve done something.

What if people are taking notes? Then maybe I’ll say something blatantly wrong and no one realizes but me, and I’ll see someone scribbling that down. Then what? Go up afterward and be like, “Remember that whole thing I said about fusion and fission and mathematics? You should just cross that out.” But knowing and admitting you’ve said something stupid is more embarrassing than saying something stupid to begin with. What’s next, apologizing when I hurt someone’s feelings? Being honest about where I’ve been all night? Keeping promises? Where does it end?

Anything could happen Tuesday, is all I’m saying. So I have to be prepared.

I mean, what if I’m really great and then I get asked back for more discussions and then it becomes a thing where I’m traveling the world chatting about editing and new media. And then I’ll have to quit my editing jobs. No time for real work, what with the panels and world traveling. But then I’m no longer working in the field that I’ve become so adept at talking about. Then what? I lose my new job as a panelist, that’s what, because it doesn’t make sense. I’m broke now, and starving and homeless too. But then I join the motivational-speaker circuit. “I had it all and now I’m homeless,” I’ll tell people. Major comeback! Money, fame, more-prestigious panels. Admirers, groupies, VD. Dementia, wacky memoir, fairly early death. Is this the life I want? I have to decide now. Like, right now.

By Charley Daniels

Isabelle took off for her 10-year reunion this weekend, leaving me home alone to fend for myself. Thanks a lot, Isabelle. Following is a list of things that I’m going to deny doing while she was away, because I didn’t do them, okay?

• Leave the bed unmade for four days straight
• Cook some steak in the “vegetable-only” grill pan
• Drink from the carton
• Not wash my hands
• Snack from the bag and/or box
• Peek in the neighbor’s windows in the middle of the night
• Whiz all over the toilet bowl, exclaiming “Wooooo!” as I do so
• Cuss randomly, out loud and for no reason
• Leave an empty toilet paper tube on the holder in both bathrooms
• Eat in bed for most meals
• Use bathroom hand towels to clean whizzed-on toilet bowls
• Watch Jon and Kate Plus 8, make hilarious sarcastic remarks
• Watch Little People, Big World, no sarcastic remarks necessary
• Attract cockroaches from the alley, treat them like pets and encourage them to hang out
• Put a sign on our front door that says “Charley’s House of Pain”
• Have friends over, let them go through Isabelle’s stuff
• Time how long it takes to wiggle on my back across the whole apartment

By Charley Daniels

My last post was an August Fools joke! I got you so good.

Moving on.

This conversation just happened while Isabelle and I were watching gymnastics:

Isabelle: Did he just say “full tootsie double back?”

Charley: No, “full twisting double back.”

Isabelle: No, “tootsie.”

[pause]

Charley: Which makes more sense?

Okay, maybe I should address that August Fools joke that you all fell so hard for. As with all good lies, the way I made it work was that I made myself believe it for a couple days. See? I told myself that I was, in fact, going to give up drinking completely until Sept. 11. But inside my mind there was this hidden place where I keep things that even I don’t want to know. In there a voice said, “Actually, that’s not true, but let’s go with this for a while.” And thus the best ever Weblog Sin Pies August Fools joke was perpetrated. I hope you liked it!

Look, the problem with giving up drinking completely for one month is it’s not nearly as fun and delicious as not giving up drinking. Do you know what I mean? For example, I’m fairly certain that if it weren’t for Ketel One, I wouldn’t have come home at 4 a.m. Saturday morning covered in sand, the result of a tumble I took at the beach while trying to put my pants back on. I mean, these are the stories that we partially remember for most of the rest of our late 20s and early 30s, so I owe it to myself to keep that going. Don’t I?

And in case you’re wondering, the much more reasonable part of me has agreed to the “only drinking on the weekend and during public speaking” plan, which I think is far more realistic and also very healthy of me. Everything in moderation, people. Everything.

By Charley Daniels

So I’m going to try not to drink any sort of boozy liquid for a month. I started a couple days ago, but I thought I would wait to see how well I did before I actually wrote about it here. I’ve tried this before a couple times and have failed each time. In fact, when I told Isabelle I was going to do it she just said, “Yeah, right.” And in the couple days I’ve been sticking to it, whenever I mention it (which is often, because I whine) she rolls her eyes like I just told her I was training to become a superhero.

I know what you’re thinking: “This post looks really long. And wordy.” And you might also be wondering why I decided to stop drinking for a month. In the immortal words of my mom, who’s been known to rock down a drink or two: When it comes to abstaining from alcohol, sometimes it’s a good idea to see if you actually can. There may be other benefits as well.

But! I’ve already stepped in it big time, because yesterday I agreed to participate in a panel discussion about editors and new media. It’s in two weeks and it takes place at a bar. Though I’m certain I’m able to go to a bar to hang out without having a drink, it’s a whole different thing when I’m there to step on stage and be informative for aspiring editors who will probably be listening to what I say and might even be looking directly at me while I say it. I’ve come a long way from my thespian society days, and over the last 10 years I’ve lost every ounce of my ability to speak in public without feeling like a complete asshole. And I think we can all agree that that was a good change.

So I can stick with the program, try not to cave, and maybe huff some paint in the parking lot before the panel. Or I can make an exception for the one day. Trouble with making an exception is, right now I can drink pretty good, mostly owing to my Oregon vacation. Tolerance is sky high. But after not having had anything to drink for two weeks, I could get myself into trouble by overestimating how much booze I can handle — just before I step on stage as a guest panelist. I can see how this may seem like a win-win situation. For you. But there are plenty of reasons why I don’t want to stagger up there. My fellow panelists almost certainly won’t be cockeyed drunk, especially the one from the venerable public institution NPR, which hands out gravitas to strangers on the street because its people don’t know what to do with all the extra. I suppose I could just, you know, go easy. Which is something I am capable of. But nerves! Maybe I’ll wait to see what the questions are and then decide from there.

I can drink again, officially, on Sept. 11. I thought that was good day to come back because it’s easy to remember and it’s a good excuse to drink. Until then, I’ll miss beer. For more reasons than most people realize.

P.S. Some of you may intermittently notice a hilarious ad for “penis reduction pills” above the header. What can I say, the check cleared.