A Face For Radio

A Face For Radio.jpg

A media professional with whom I corresponded for the first time yesterday informed me that with regard to promoting my book next year "of course, radio is out."  "Out"?  As in, "Of the three or four major media in which books are promoted, you should be automatically discounting one"?  Why, I wonder? 

When I was around 8, I began a course of singing lessons which ended up lasting for more than 25 years.  In my previous life, I trained as a classical actor.  Part of this training prepares performers for experiences in media outside the stage, notably: Film, TV and Radio.  For over 10 years, I have been the resident voiceover artist at a major teaching hospital.  If there are recordings to be made, I'm their girl.  I know the international phonetic alphabet, and I can even speak languages for short recordings, with the help of an interpreter.  Heck, I talk all the time, and not just stuff like "Please stop poking your sister with a fork" (although, that one is an old standard).

Now, the person who eliminated Radio from my media outlets yesterday does not know anything about that background.  What they know is that I am a Knitter.  So my real question is, what is it about the word KNITTER that automatically means I can't talk compellingly?  Maybe it's the idea that a book about knitting would be visual by nature.  I could understand that, but I listen to the radio all the time, and I have heard painters, photographers, and even cartoonists interviewed about their projects regularly.  I'm pretty sure these people somehow made the leap between making their art and talking about their art.  Shouldn't I be able to do that too?

No, I'm afraid that the real problem is that I have slammed up against my first case of Knitter Profiling.  This is the notion maintained by some unevolved (or just uninterested) creatures that the only people who work with sticks and strings are tightly-bunned little old ladies with too many cats (okay, I'll concede the too many cats issue - that is me, but it's my sister's fault).  I know I should not be surprised.  I am surrounded all day, every day, by non-knitters.  I have learned to tolerate their ignorance, and even to sometimes find it endearing in the way that naivety can sometimes be.  But something in the immediate assumption made by this stranger is completely crazy-making.  With exactly two facts, that person made a vast array of mistakes about me, and then paraded them with impunity. 

My indignation is both complete, and useless.  That this professional has alienated themselves from both my esteem and my employ will probably never bother them in the least.  I am the one who will have to grow a thicker hide and wise up a bit.

For the first time I can see that I have chosen a very steep hill to climb.  My little world of fiber and the people who love it is about to be exploded by a series of events that I set in motion myself. 

Now, I academically and intellectually can accept that my frame of reference is narrow.  I really do understand that not everyone I meet will embrace the work I do or its importance to my life and well-being.  I think these people are profoundly ignorant, but I do know they are out there.  In fact, I usually regard their gentle enlightenment as my personal responsibility.  But in spite of my experience with the existence of unapologetic non-knitters in the universe, I was not prepared to find one where I did yesterday. 

I guess we knitters never think it can happen to us, until it does.  If anybody needs me, I'll be in my happy place.  Wool, anyone?