Before conducting interviews I was trying to write but I didn’t like it. If I had takes or opinions I didn’t find them that impressive. I didn’t find myself that interesting. But other people definitely were. I liked interviews more than theory or opinion or blog entries. Interviews were unpretentious and accessible and easy to understand. I didn’t like feeling dumb when I read.

I should be clear that I don’t consider conversations to be interviews – talkshows or podcasts where the host and guest just riff. Those are great if the host is charismatic and the subject is interesting. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about something where the interviewer is guiding the conversation specifically through questions and the interviewee is providing answers. This dynamic does not require either people to be particularly special in order to have good results.

My first interview was with William Gibson when I was 25. I’d reached out to his publisher and was kind of amazed that they got back to me. I was also amazed that he was willing to meet with me. At the time I didn’t know then that people actually liked to be interviewed. They wanted to be seen and to be understood and were willing to give an hour of their time in order to do so. This realization felt like an unlock.

That first interview I was really nervous. I’d never met a famous author before. We recorded it on a cassette at a coffee shop in Vancouver. The entire time I was terrified the audio was going to be fucked and that stopped me from being 100% present. There were other things that were getting in the way of listening. I was thinking about my questions and the arc of the conversation but I was also thinking about whether I was smiling and nodding enough.

While it was thrilling to meet William Gibson I know I didn’t feel great after the interview. For that hour I hadn’t really felt like a human being. There was something so undignified about the dynamic. It was all about the interviewee. It had to be… Why else would we be meeting? The erasure of self was a necessary tradeoff.

Eventually I would find myself editing other people’s interviews and cringing as they would insert themselves. But I also remember interviewing Anna Khachiyan and her trying to make things more level by asking me questions and me saying something to the effect of “This is all about you… What I have to say is of no importance.” It felt so lame the second the words came out of my mouth. We never had a conversation after that.

Over the years I’ve been able to work on resolving my self esteem issues. I once had a therapist who during our conversations was 100% present and attentive to me and the moment the session was over he just completely deflated with exhaustion. I once asked him about it and he said that what he did required a lot of energy and focus. That’s kind of how I feel about doing this stuff now. I’ve been complimented on my ability to lock in, but I don’t really have any delusions about what it is that we’re actually doing anymore. Something about that actually gave me more confidence to not disappear.

When I got sober, I started going to 12 step meetings where the format is – what it was like, what happened and what it’s like now. What’s crazy is that no matter how many people tell their story with that format, it’s always interesting, as long as there is desire, and change and discovery – something that I guess addicts in recovery and creative people share. Funnily enough, that was what I already gravitated toward – the stories that I related to that called to mind my own experiences despite being someone elses.Those are the stories that I want to tell.