Village Squire, 1975-07, Page 34Keith's Kolumn
I hate
to see
that guy...
the one
in the mirror
BY KEITH ROULSTON
To be a writer, you have to be a bit of an
egotist. Thus, I am an egotist.
I mean you can't be a shrinking violet and
put your opinions in cold print for all to
see...and perhaps ridicule. Every young
writer lives for the first time he sees his name
in print. For the young reporter, the biggest
thrill is getting the first by-line. For the
fiction writer it's seeing your name on the
jacket of a novel or at the top of a short story
in a magazine. There's something hypnotic
about those little letters on paper that have
driven thousands over the years to devote
their lives to trying to get their message on
paper.
But the strange thing about writers is that
while they like to get their name and the fruits
of their minds in print, most don't like being
very visible.
While radio performers lover the sound of
their voices and television personalities (and
a lot of ordinary egotistical people) like to look
at themselves in mirrors, writers would just
as well hide behind their by-lines.
My wife gets a taught about me for
instance. It's the policy of our weekly
newspaper that the pictures of columnists go
at the top of the column every week. It took a
long time before I put my picture at the top of
my own column. She kept taking pictures of
me to use, and I kept throwing them out after
they were developed. Somehow, the image
that appears is never quite what you'd like it
to be like. I mean I've never quite pictured
myself as a movie star type, but somehow my
own mental picture of myself always gets
shattered when I see myself. For the same
reason, I hate mirrors. I hate those shops that
have all sorts of mirrors in them. I start
feeling like I'm stark naked in a goldfish
bowl.
Back when I was in college we had some
training in radio and television work since
many of my classmates were likely to go on in
that field. One day they wheeled this little
television camera into the class -room studio
and each of us took turns reading the news in
front of the little box. Then they played the
video tape back for us to see.
They spoiled my day.
I mean this was first thing in the day and
the horrid memory of seeing a bleary-eyed,
rumpled college student that turned out to be
me, just wasn't the way to start things off. My
forehead, which is wide and high at the best
of times, lboked like an empty football field
from the high camera angle 'used. My larger
than life nose looked evern larger than it used
to seem when I was a self-conscious high
school student. My mouth beside these large
expanses looked tiny and wiihy washy. In all,
if a character like that read the. C.B.C.
National news, I wouldn't believe a word of it.
Our radio recording sessions were just as
bad. My 'best friend at the time went on to
become a disc jockey, first at a local station
and then a station in one of the largest cities
in Canada. His voice was smooth as silk and
made you iust want to listen to him talk. It
was, in short, everything that mine wasn't.
Evan now when I use a tape -recorder some
times for interviews, it is positively gruesome
to have to listen to that scratchy voice and
realize, however unwanted, that it is your
own.
Even worse, several times in the past year
or so I've found myself interviewed on radio.
It's a nice boost for the self-esteem to be
interviewed but I've never had the courage to
listen to one of the interviews. Somehow, I
know, if I listened myself -esteem would need
even more boosting.
I'd rather, by far write a lot, and hopefully
be read, but hide behind my by-line. A radio
and television personality I'II 'just never be.
For over forty years
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32, VILLAGE SQUIRE/IULY 1975