Blogger: Rachelle Gardner
I’m headed out to the American Christian Fiction Writers conference in St. Louis. This is one of my favorite events every year, full of writers, editors, agents, and publicists. It’s such a valuable time, and lots of fun too. But I’m sure there are a lot of writers who will be nervous, and there will be more than a few awkward moments.
I can remember some doozies in the past. One year, a writer walked through the entire banquet hall with her skirt hiked up in her pantyhose. At another conference, I walked up to an editor and said, “Hi Linda!” and she said, “I’m not Linda.”
Then there was the time I was in a pitch meeting with an author, trying to explain why I didn’t think her premise was strong enough for a book, and she burst out crying and ran off. Another year I had a pretty bad bicycle crash right before conference, with road rash up the entire side of my leg—it looked pretty awful the night of the gala when I was wearing a dress that stopped at my knees.
So today let’s talk about embarrassing situations. Could be at a writer’s conference, or any other setting. Tell us about a time you were mortified, uncomfortable, or just wanted to disappear into the atmosphere.
Think of it as therapy. And remember—it happens to the best of us!
What is your most memorable embarrassing moment?
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Ooh, this is easy.
Training for a dynamic building entry, using a Universal Key (short-barrelled pump shotgun) for the breach, I forgot that I had replaced the low-brass training rounds with high-brass (more powerful) shells. (We didn’t use Hatton rounds, for those who might wonder.)
The result was the weapon kicking back square into my mouth and upper lip at the first shot. The exercise had to be completed, bloody face and loose teeth and all, and I had to endure weeks of pantomime from my colleagues.
This was almost matched by the “Dude, I was supposed to be belaying him? I thought YOU were on belay!” moment, but that’s for another time.
(Hatton rounds are shotgun shells loaded with granular plastic, and are designed to pulverize the wood around a hinge or lock without sending much frag into the room beyond. They’re great when there are potential hostages behind the door.)
Oh Andrew! 🙂 Colleagues. I met an old high school/college friend recently. My girls were with me. And the first thing out of her mouth was, “When your mom had to prick her finger to test her blood type in high school, she nearly passed out. Everyone in school knew about it!”
High school students have long memories.
The main thing they remember about me is when I got bored during English class and left by jumping through a second-floor window. It was awkward for the teacher, because I landed in front of the headmaster. I didn’t mind.
I just said, “Hi, Sir!” and put out my hand for the Head to shake.
And he did.
Andrew … you have stories just like my uncle and my husband’s uncles/dad. Boys!! 🙂 My uncle wouldn’t stay in school … he preferred to remain barefoot. Oh, yes. And the uncles-in-law were hoots … terrible, terrible! Out-laws, more like it. 🙂 In a good way!! 🙂
Oh my word. Ouch!
Oh, gracious … I have so many. My husband says, “What you put on the internet stays on the internet.” So, I’ll make my embarrassing situation eternally worse.
Way back when, I was in the high school drill team. In our spring show, we performed a finale, with high kicks. On the high school auditorium stage, for the community. Normal under attire (if there was any color other than white back then, I didn’t own it), suntan hose on top of that, then red tights over that. Skirt is short anyway. I forgot my red tights. I realized just as we were about to go on. It was too late. Show had to go on. Mortified. White in a sea of red. My only saving grace was that I was not on the front row and, though not matching, I was still covered. Glory! 🙂 And on the up side … my mother didn’t even notice. 🙂
Everyone … have a wonderful time at ACFW! Praying over all of you … that you have no embarrassing moments. 🙂
High school!
I volunteered to play the piano in a talent show, notwithstanding the fact that I could not read music.
So I memorized a rather complex ragtime piece, and the practice went well. On the night of nights, however…
With both hands above they keyboard, I suddenly had no idea where to put them. So I turned to the audience and asked (after giving them a suitable interval to savor the moment), “Would you mind if I started again?”
There was laughter from the warm darkness beyond the footlights, and a good-humored “Go ahead!”
So I did, and at the same point in the piece…
“OK, one more time?”
And the third time was the charm. So to speak.
You were so brave! That teeters on a qualified nightmare, for me. 🙂
Andrew, I once saw Jose Iturbi do the very same thing at the Hollywood Bowl. It was 64 years ago. He was doing Debussy that is really an etude for piano students (somehow it sounded different when he played it). But he came up to the blank spot. Wiped his hands on his handkerchief, turned to the audience, shrugged and said “we will begin again.” And he did. Of course, he only had to do it once.
Whereas I did it twice at my college recital. Just like you did. And again, the third time was the charm. It was a Beethoven concerto.
I know that Debussy piece…it gave me fits when I was the bane of my piano teacher. She did not understand an inability to read music.
Thanks for sharing Mr. Iturbi’s experience, and yours. I’m in good company!
Shelli, I imagine your high-kick days are probably behind you, so you can breathe a sigh of relief!
Ohhh, I have a few. And by “a few” they’re filed in alphabetical order. And MIT had to create a computer big enough to hold all the files.
One of my favourites (because it blends nicely with bragging) is when we were PERFORMING (not rehearsing, noooo) an Easter cantata and I was one of the 3 sopranos allowed (yes, allowed) to hit the money notes.
Well, somebody forgot the high G was for ONE BAR, not TWO.
So she nailed that baby and held it for the full 8 counts.
And treated the entire church to a 4 note solo. And might I add, people can barely hear me hit middle C, but I have the perfect register for nuclear powered high notes. That was no wimpy little falsetto, noooope, that was German opera singer on Red Bull loud, and long, and permanently etched in my brain.
Certain friends know to whisper “One bar, Jennifer, JUST ONE” to help humble me.
My conductor’s face when I was done? Ohhh. Not good.
I’m lovin’ it! Embarrassing moments keep us laughing for the rest of our days. Those will probably be our only memories when we are down to a shred of brain power. And we’ll assume everyone else knows why we are laughing. 🙂
And what did YOUR face look like when you were done, Jennifer??!!
Ha! Funny you ask…I was very much a deer in the headlights.
Like, a week old fawn, being hunted by Rambo, standing stalk still in the Klieg lights of a movie set.
I don’t always pay good enough attention when I’m at a writer’s group or conference, and, let’s just say I’ve walked into the men’s room on more than one occasion. Really embarrassing!!
Oh Jill … I just did that at a high school football game. 🙂
Yikes! I’ve done that too. I don’t know why but it’s SO mortifying.
Jill, I thought I was the only one! I walked into the men’s room at Mount Hermon. 🙂
Oh, that’s easy. My very first conference, very first pitch session. I went in to speak with an editor and pitched him my epic sci-fi trilogy idea. The moment I said the word “aliens” his eyes glazed over. He stopped me and said, “We don’t do that kind of book anymore.” Turns out my research into what that house published was extremely out of date.
Well, at least you had time to go do something more productive, right John? Of course, you had no way of knowing the publisher’s updated needs. It’s just never easy. *sigh*
My most embarrassing writing conference memory was in a workshop. We had all sent in about ten pages of writing prior to meeting at large southern university. The workshop leader told the whole group, about a dozen of us, that my piece was so bad he had to force himself to read all ten pages and only did so because it was submitted for a workshop. I was hurt by what he said and the mocking way he said it. I missed the evening program that night, but then went on to other things over the next few days.
Ellie, how horrifying and so rude. Bless your heart. That should never happen.
Oh, Ellie, the person who should have been embarrassed was the workshop leader! That person needed a good lesson in manners if nothing else. I’m glad you wen t on to other–and better!–things!
I’ve had poems and essays published since, I have a radio show (interviewing Maine writers) and I’m starting my MFA in January. So, I’m fine. I take it as a cautionary tale. That was his opinion that day but it does not define my work.
I know you’re fine, Ellie, but I simply cannot believe people sometimes. In what universe is that the way to behave? To teach? To encourage and inspire? Ugh. Clueless.
It did feel hurtful in the “immediate after” but not stifling in the long run. Thanks, though.
Thanks, Rachelle.
Might be worth mentioning grace that’s been shown in helping someone else past an awkward moment.
The best example I saw came from Dr. Frieder Seible, late of UC San Diego’s Structural Engineering program (now a dean is Australia).
A large-scale test of concrete pilings was being done on behalf of Alaska’s Department of Transportation, and Frieder was the PI. But the test setup had been misdesigned.
At a critical point, the specimen failed in a way that no one had anticipated, and one of the hydraulic rams applying about 200,000 lbs of force bent its shaft – a 9-in thick piece of steel.
It made a terrible noise, and an expensive one – about the cost of a new Cadillac.
The grad student who had designed the setup was speechless, and in tears. The tech who’d been supervising him went white.
Frieder got to his feet, slowly, and walked around the ruined equipment. Then he said, in his booming German accent, “Vell, boys, I sink zis means it’s Miller time!”
He shouldered all of the blame. Class act.
What a perfect example of graciousness, Andrew. May we all be poised to help others through their embarrassments this well.
A class act with a sense of humor and a compassionate spirit. Awesome.
My first conference and first editor appointment: my mind went blank. I could not remember what my story was about. I ended up reading my one-sheet. The editor was not impressed.
Terri, take heart … I can so see that happening to me.
I so wish I had the magic words to convince writers they don’t have to be so nervous! Really, I just want to have a conversation with you.
But most of us have some kind of crushing “first time” to look back on – something by which to see how far we’ve come!
I have a question … does an agented writer still have a need to pitch at a conference? Do they pitch works or new works to editors even though they are agented?
Just curious. I should probably be embarrassed to ask! 🙂
That’s a good question, Shelli – one that agented writers ask all the time! Of course it always depends on the situation. Many agented & published authors have no need to pitch. But many agented authors are still searching for a publishing home, so pitching editors is very valuable. The agent is probably pitching those same editors, but when you can make a personal impression, it can really help. If you’re agented, you talk it through with your agent before the conference.
During ACFW’s Year of the Asparagus (2010), I accidentally flung a spear into the lap of Allen Arnold. But he remembers me to this day! 😉
That’s choice, Christina!
I hope, for Allen’s sake, this isn’t ACFW’s year of the watermelon! 😉
Kathy
Embarrassing moments? Where would I begin?
I started a new job in June. Because it’s real estate and there are over 50 agents in our office, it’s hard to get to know everyone by name–especially since not everyone comes in all the time.
One day, I brought a person a piece of mail and she looked at me and said, “She works in this office, but it’s not me.” I had to admit that for three months I did think she was this other person. She was very gracious about it, but I was totally mortified. I’ll never forget her name again. I also won’t be hand delivering any mail, either. 🙂
I think it was my second year at Mount Hermon when I sat at the table of a particular editor for lunch, hoping to pitch to her…and spilled the entire table’s pitcher of iced tea over everything. The gracious lady still allowed me to send her a proposal, though that manuscript didn’t end up being a good fit for her house at the time, but I’ve always thought if I needed her to remember me, I could say, “I’m the one who spilled the pitcher of iced tea!”…not that that might be the best idea… 🙂
My 1st E-Momemt:
The embarrassing fact that I was born in bed with a lady.
I was dating my husband for three months when his mom had a family reunion at their lake home. I was seventeen, and had very little experience in canoes–but agreed to go out in a canoe with my then boyfriend, Dave. It was super-romantic, as you can imagine, but when we got back to his parents’ place, and his cousins all ran down to the dock to see us, I tried to get out of the canoe and, instead, ended up flipping into the water! I was drenched, and had to walk through a group of his aunts and uncles to get into the house to dry off. He has often said that he was so impressed with how gracefully I handled the situation, he knew right then I was the girl to keep! My most embarrassing moment turned into the most important moment of my life!
Looking forward to seeing you in St. Louis, Rachelle!
When my husband and I were stationed in Japan many years ago, we lived ‘on the economy’…which meant off-base housing.
I remember answering our telephone one morning, and trying hard to understand what the man was saying in Japanese. When he realized I was answering in English, he tried to get his message across to me in broken English. It took about 5 minutes of conversation for me to realize that it was an obscene phone call!
All that time, I thought the man was repeating his name…”Yumi Hotero”…
blush blush
Talk about ‘lost in translation’!!
Oh, Kathy, that reminds me of my most embarrassing moment, which wasn’t writing-related. I had recently learned American Sign Language and was interpreting in a church. I’d worked the night shift at the School for the Deaf and had only had one hour of sleep. At one point in the service the pastor said, “Now we want to meet all the visitors.” When I signed that all the Deaf people started laughing. After the service a friend told me I’d actually signed, “Now we want to…mate with..all the visitors.” (You can tell I’m avoiding a less polite word.) Thankfully, none of the visitors were Deaf. Okay, now that will be on the internet forever!
Another ‘lost in translation’ moment. That is so funny, Janet!
And isn’t it a gift that we can sometimes look back and laugh at ourselves…and share a smile with others who’ve been in the same boat? 😉
I never know what my clumsy will do. Once I tripped walking up the steps to a platform to speak. Another time, I was using one of those tall microphones and knocked it over. Completely. The pastor’s wife had to rush up and help me. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
So many of these horrifying moments.
I guess it keeps us humble and knowing Who’s in charge. 🙂
Yes, Julie … and these stories make for the best blog posts, too!! 🙂
Ooops. Just did it again. Left out the word “self” above. As in clumsy self. 🙂
OK, I’ll bite on this one! A few years ago at ACFW I entered an elevator along with my roommate, Kelly. The other two occupants? Janet Grant and Wendy Lawton! I was seized with social anxiety (why???). I introduced Kelly to my agent, Janet, and totally blanked on Wendy’s name. Wendy!! How could I?
As I recall, the ever-gracious Wendy introduced herself.
Thank you, Wendy, and I’m sorry!
Now, I’m ready for St. Louis and Faux Pas 2014
When I was in drill team, during high school, we had painfully early practices (5:30 am). One morning, I forgot to turn off the headlights of my parents minivan, and locked the keys inside, while the headlights were shining on the entire drill team and band. Two hours of mortification followed because everybody knew I was the one who drove the faux wood paneled minivan that resembled a spaceship . . . (in the 80s). 🙂
About 25 years ago — during our child raising years — I was sitting next to a stranger at a conference meal whose water glass was perched (in my fatherly mind) way too near the edge of the table. I reached over and moved it to a safe distance before I realized what I had done.
He gave me a curious look then went back to his meal. To the best of my memory, we remained strangers.
At Glorieta, a number of years ago, I naively asked the man sitting behind me at evening devotions what he was doing there.
It was, in fact, James Scott Bell. He was so gracious. And I prayed for the floor to open and swallow me.
I just did a podcast interview (first ever!) and I can’t bring myself to listen to it in case I *did* embarrass myself! I’d rather not know!
😉
Paula, that’s why I never read my comments after I post them, when it’s too late to fix an error. I write, proof, post, and never look back!
Though I have plenty examples to share, my goal is to forget my most embarrassing moments!
My turn! Many years ago, as a young editor, I attended a writers conference and was sitting in the lobby waiting for the conference to begin. A charming, affable man sat across from me, and as two conferees, we struck up a conversation. Where are you from, etc… Moments later, I found a seat in a very large auditorium and noted said charming man was seated on the stage. Hm. Strange. He then was introduced as the keynote speaker. The man was Richard Foster.
I’ll always remember how kind and humble he was to a neophyte who didn’t recognize him. And how he didn’t need to fill me in on all the details of who he was.