Girls on Film (Two Minutes Later)
So much time has passed! And there’s so much to tell you!
Wait, no there isn’t. I mean, what I can tell you is dull and what is potentially interesting is more in the planning than in the offing so, yes, I’m standing here with a hopeful expression and very little to tell.
(Quinn stands around, looking hopeful.)
(Quinn stands around, looking hopeful and a trifle self-conscious.)
(Quinn’s eyes dart around the room, trying to find something to talk about.)
Wait, here’s something. Early in May, my glorious publisher Perigee is producing a promotional video for the book, which is incredibly gracious of them. Since I last had a book out, book videos have become a thing. The run the gamut from charming to creative to “Like watching someone else’s travel videos.”
[Of course I’m not going to give you an example of the last kind of book video. But trust me when I say it would take you no more than a minute to find many examples.]
I have hopes of being in the less ghastly/more better section, but really right now my focus is that I have to be interviewed, ON CAMERA. THE CAMERA WHICH HAS A LENS WHICH CAPTURES VISUAL LIKENESSES. For me, any time on camera is like your twentieth high-school reunion, only without the dim hope that someone else will be fatter and have less hair. If I’m on camera, I’m a class of one. And yes, I did some Q-Teas last year but guess what? We shot those in late afternoon light, one of the two most attractive lighting hours one can get. I might be self-deprecating, but my mother didn’t raise a fool. I produced those and I made darn certain they turned out so I could stomach them. I might not be competing for Loveliest Woman on Earth, but I'm pretty confident that was the best I could look. The book video is being produced by a highly qualified individual, but that person isn’t me and there’s been a worrying use of the phrase “Get to know the real Quinn,” a person I happen to find is mostly unsightly. I had no say over the genes I got, and I will have very limited say over which shots they use, so I’m focusing my increasing plangent control-issue inner-voice on the one thing I can control:
My diet.
I’ve convinced myself that a low-inflammatory, low-sugar, vaguely Dr. Perricone diet will cause me to drop ten years in two weeks. Notice I didn’t say weight; I don’t care about my weight. First of all, the book isn’t based on how I am over 40 and yet can still rock a bikini, so there won’t be any of those shots, thank you very much. Second, Catherine Deneuve got it right when she said that after 40, it’s your face or your butt. What profiteth a writer in a book video to fit into her skinny jeans if she resembles Skeletor? No, the diet I speak of leads to testimonials from people swearing they haven’t looked this rested, this well, in years.
I want to look rested.
I want to look well.
Therefore, I eat krill and brightly-colored vegetables.
Of course, these diets are apparently also great for combatting chronic conditions and lead to a better and longer overall life, but pish tosh to that. Some day, we can all contemplate why I can’t motivate myself to eat to avoid diabetes but can eat to possibly look as if I had a nap. Also, it can’t be a totally Perricone diet because I tried eating salmon on Sunday and it turns out that not only am I allergic to shellfish, it would appear I’m allergic to fish as well, and I’m pretty certain vomiting doesn’t make one appear rested.
Also, I’m scrubbing the walls so they film well, which I think is the domestic version of how I’m eating in that it’s a perfectly appropriate thing for adults to do but I can only be motivated to do it because cameras will be around. And then I’ll have the couches cleaned and the pets Simonized, buy a bouquet of flowers to have in a vase in the background, pop a krill-soaked walnut or two and act as if this how it always is around this house. Because the Real Quinn leaves something to be desired but with any luck the Real Rested Quinn will be a sight to behold.
Wait, no there isn’t. I mean, what I can tell you is dull and what is potentially interesting is more in the planning than in the offing so, yes, I’m standing here with a hopeful expression and very little to tell.
(Quinn stands around, looking hopeful.)
(Quinn stands around, looking hopeful and a trifle self-conscious.)
(Quinn’s eyes dart around the room, trying to find something to talk about.)
Wait, here’s something. Early in May, my glorious publisher Perigee is producing a promotional video for the book, which is incredibly gracious of them. Since I last had a book out, book videos have become a thing. The run the gamut from charming to creative to “Like watching someone else’s travel videos.”
[Of course I’m not going to give you an example of the last kind of book video. But trust me when I say it would take you no more than a minute to find many examples.]
I have hopes of being in the less ghastly/more better section, but really right now my focus is that I have to be interviewed, ON CAMERA. THE CAMERA WHICH HAS A LENS WHICH CAPTURES VISUAL LIKENESSES. For me, any time on camera is like your twentieth high-school reunion, only without the dim hope that someone else will be fatter and have less hair. If I’m on camera, I’m a class of one. And yes, I did some Q-Teas last year but guess what? We shot those in late afternoon light, one of the two most attractive lighting hours one can get. I might be self-deprecating, but my mother didn’t raise a fool. I produced those and I made darn certain they turned out so I could stomach them. I might not be competing for Loveliest Woman on Earth, but I'm pretty confident that was the best I could look. The book video is being produced by a highly qualified individual, but that person isn’t me and there’s been a worrying use of the phrase “Get to know the real Quinn,” a person I happen to find is mostly unsightly. I had no say over the genes I got, and I will have very limited say over which shots they use, so I’m focusing my increasing plangent control-issue inner-voice on the one thing I can control:
My diet.
I’ve convinced myself that a low-inflammatory, low-sugar, vaguely Dr. Perricone diet will cause me to drop ten years in two weeks. Notice I didn’t say weight; I don’t care about my weight. First of all, the book isn’t based on how I am over 40 and yet can still rock a bikini, so there won’t be any of those shots, thank you very much. Second, Catherine Deneuve got it right when she said that after 40, it’s your face or your butt. What profiteth a writer in a book video to fit into her skinny jeans if she resembles Skeletor? No, the diet I speak of leads to testimonials from people swearing they haven’t looked this rested, this well, in years.
I want to look rested.
I want to look well.
Therefore, I eat krill and brightly-colored vegetables.
Of course, these diets are apparently also great for combatting chronic conditions and lead to a better and longer overall life, but pish tosh to that. Some day, we can all contemplate why I can’t motivate myself to eat to avoid diabetes but can eat to possibly look as if I had a nap. Also, it can’t be a totally Perricone diet because I tried eating salmon on Sunday and it turns out that not only am I allergic to shellfish, it would appear I’m allergic to fish as well, and I’m pretty certain vomiting doesn’t make one appear rested.
Also, I’m scrubbing the walls so they film well, which I think is the domestic version of how I’m eating in that it’s a perfectly appropriate thing for adults to do but I can only be motivated to do it because cameras will be around. And then I’ll have the couches cleaned and the pets Simonized, buy a bouquet of flowers to have in a vase in the background, pop a krill-soaked walnut or two and act as if this how it always is around this house. Because the Real Quinn leaves something to be desired but with any luck the Real Rested Quinn will be a sight to behold.