when writing an article, i often have to call people to arrange interviews or sometimes to do the actual interview over the phone. this is normal. those people are my primary sources and without them, the article couldn't be written. i've probably done this somewhere around 200 times by now, i'd imagine, or maybe more.

there's always this internal struggle. i look up the number. i pause. my heart seizes up. i think of a million things i have to do before i can call the person. my laundry. clean my room. track down an image on a server somewhere. refresh my blog and look for comments. call my boss and ask him a question.

even after i do all of those things, i still have to call the person. no call, no article. i stare at the phone. i pick up the receiver. i put it back down. up. down. swallow. i dial the number. i dialed the wrong number. i hang up and dial the right number. those rings are always the hardest. i pray it goes to voicemail. it would be easier on me if an actual someone answered. but i always pray it goes to voicemail. i leave such good voicemails.

the actual someone actually picks up. i experience one more flash of panic, so tight and intense i think i might cry. then, from some quadrant in my brain, professionalism takes over. i hear my voice saying the right things, acting friendly. i hear my voice asking intelligent questions. i see that i've taken a few pointed notes. i'm joking, i'm laughing, i'm having a good time talking to this person i so desperately did not want to call.

i hang up, high on the kind of adrenaline that releases after you do something that you're good at, and you do it well.

i don't think i'll ever get over the panic, though, no matter how many times i do it. writer's panic. even joan didion had it.