The Interview

I’m in the chair next to beloved CBC host David Greirson - we’re on air, talking about songwriting. My palms are damp, the air is electric. David asks, “Do you have compatriots the way other writers have their groups, people who love to talk about craft, who support and challenge you as a songwriter?”

I’m about to say no, not really - I don’t have an enviable social life full of eccentric and passionate creators. My heart is sinking. This is why I’ll never be great on radio - I can’t think on my feet. But David is still talking. I wish … and then, there in my mind’s eye, I see P, who lives far away in California. We’ve kept our songwriting friendship alive for years with handwritten letters and hour-long phone calls, talking over our lives and our work-in-progress. David looks straight into my eyes as he wraps up his question: “Who puts your feet to the fire?”

Panic. Flames crackling dark and bright hands behind my back rough bark pressing coarse ropes - I'm in the fire. Faces flicker, people I know - their eyes bright. Mouths open. I can’t recant. I burn.

Blink. David. CBC. He’s simply asking about being held to account. I rally. Enthuse about P and me, our empowering songwriting group of two, while my heart pounds. In no time the interview is over and we are off the air.

What. Just. Happened?