Just Bruce and Me: My Date with Bruce Cameron, Author of "8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter" A few months ago, I had the privilege of interviewing the infamous Bruce Cameron, author of "8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter" and "How to Remodel a Man," his latest book from Workman Publishing Company. Not only did I have the fortunate opportunity to have the interview published by Entertainment News Zone Magazine, but I also had the privilege of talking to Bruce by PHONE, something little ol' me would have never dreamed of in a million years. For those who aren't quite sure why this is such a big deal, you must know not only is he the most good-looking man this side of the Pecos, he's also one of the most talked about humorists since Erma Bombeck...only more handsome...oh...I already said that, didn't I? The night before, I remember not getting much sleep. I knew the next day was B.C. Day, the day I dreaded and nervously yearned for at the same time. This was THE BRUCE CAMERON, I told myself over and over, only making myself more stressed as the time ticked away. The interview was scheduled for 1 p.m. and I was sweating bullets the moment I jumped out of bed and scurried about the house as I prepared myself for the interview of a lifetime. I have interviewed many best-selling authors before, but this one was quite different. Not only was I going to be interviewing one of the best syndicated humorists in which a weekly sitcom on ABC starring John Ritter was derived, but I was going to be doing this by phone. This was a first for me, but I was determined to be professional and not some lovesick groupie, which I knew I was, but didn't want to admit. As an aspiring journalist, I knew the basics of what makes a super interview and one very important tool I have found is the trusty tape recorder. I had been pestering my daughter for weeks to find it and she had put it off. I just figured it would be here somewhere and ended up in a frantic search through her closet and under her bed to find it. Beads of sweat were dripping off my face as I turned her room upside down, which in reality was the way I had found it, but it was nowhere to be found. Minutes were ticking away, so I had to put Plan B into effect: I would use the type-the-answers-on-the-computer- while-balancing-the-phone-under-my- chin method. I wasn't sure if this was going to work and as my loving daughter was responsible for losing the tape recorder in the first place, I sent her out to a phone booth nearby and had her call me and pretend she was Bruce to test it out. An hour later (she had to stop at McDonald's first of course), she called me. "Hello?" I asked. "Hi, this is Bruce," she said. "Bruce..uh...hold on...my neck is starting to get crinkly sensations." Because I don't have speaker-phone, I was cradling the phone under my neck and suddenly I knew what it meant to have a 'crick' in your neck. I had gotten three words down and my neck started getting these crinkly sensations, for want of a better word. I knew this method was definitely out. I then tried writing the answers out by hand which worked much better. I hung up and did last minute researching and went to lie down. That's when the biggest rumbling sensation started in the pit of my stomach. Great, I thought. Now is not the time for my taco breakfast to work on me. No sense wasting valuable research time, I grabbed "8 Simple Rules", and headed for the bathroom where I not only finished my research, but also found time to read "99 Sexy Ways to Touch Him" and "What His Body's Secretly Saying" in the latest Cosmo magazine. You never know when this stuff will come in handy. I got up and went back to the computer and checked the messages in my humor writing group to try to unwind. I relayed my fears to them and their resounding advice to make this a great interview was to calm down and be myself. Myself? When? When I'm about to be hit by a Mack truck? When I'm about to have my teeth drilled? When I'm about to give birth? So, I got up and did some laundry. And walked the dog. And bit off every fingernail I had. It was two hours to countdown and I knew I had to have the perfect surroundings. I had a cordless phone, so I could choose any room I wanted. What would be the perfect room? I had a kid in every room except for my bedroom, the bathroom and the kitchen. The bathroom was out as I'd be tempted to use the facilities during the interview and hopefully if I stayed away from that room, I'd be alright. The bedroom was tempting with its king-sized bed and mirrored ceiling, but I knew if I chose that room I may get sidetracked and who knows what kind of interview that would turn out to be. The kitchen was my last alternative, but I also had to deal with passing children, dogs, cats and the occasional visitor. I had to take that chance as it had a table and a chair and no mirrored ceiling to distract me. Coffee was brewing as I laid everything out: notebook, several pens, cigarettes, Bruce's book, the phone (well charged), and my address book with his number circled in bright red marker. I opened the windows to let in some fresh inspiring air and took the dogs out to pee. One o'clock approaches and it's time to call. The kids have left to pick up one of the pooches at the vet and I was all alone. Just Bruce and me. I dialed the phone, my heart beating faster than speeding crawfish in a tank of piranhas. And then...his voicemail came on. The man of my dreams had stood me up. What could he have better to do than talk to his number one groupie? Was there no space in his celebrity world for a little country girl like me? I couldn't believe this was happening. I left my number in case I got the time wrong and hung up. I lit my seven-hundredth cigarette and answered email, watching the clock. Will he call back? Should I try again? Was that rumbling in the pit of my stomach a sign of nature calling or was it my heart splintering in a thousand pieces? Seventeen minutes had gone by and yet the phone lay silent on the table. I couldn't stand it anymore and called him back. By now, the voicemail and I were getting pretty well acquainted. I was almost tempted to ask it for a date only I thought that would be a big blow to my ego for it to turn me down. I glanced at the clock. Nineteen minutes went by. The air coming through the window had gotten cooler by this time and I got up to close it. I paced the floor. Something had to be wrong. I walked by the phone and decided I'd make one last attempt. That's when I realized what happened. I rechecked the number and realized that I had called his house in California and not the one in Denver, where he was vacationing with his family. I didn't realize that he had given me two contact numbers and that he had told me that he would be in Denver. I hurriedly dialed the Denver number, hoping that he didn't think it was I who stood HIM up. This time, I made CONTACT. "Hello?" came the deep voice from the other end. IT WAS HIM. "Bruce? Hi! Dorothy Thompson here. How are you?" "I'm fine, Dorothy!" He seemed a very easygoing fellow, nice strong voice, never hesitating, always on the ball. I interrogated and he shot back some pretty good answers. In the middle of our 'date', the kids arrived with the dogs, happy as pigs in mud to be home. You could hear them crinkling McDonald's bags again on the way through, turning on the microwave, and I'm standing there waving maniacally for them to leave the room. After all I had been through, I was determined they were not going to ruin my first date with the incredible Bruce Cameron. He laughed and asked me how many kids I had. I went to name them and had to yell to my daughter to ask her how old she was. I'm sure he was thinking I was just another dumb blonde from the get-go, but if he did, he didn't let on. That is the kind of person he is. They don't come any nicer, sweeter, and incredibly gentlemanly...traits that are hard to come by these days. Overall, it was a pretty good interview and I felt I did a pretty darn good job, being as he was my first phone interviewee that is...get your mind out of the gutter. But, nothing can compare to that incredible feeling sitting at the table with Bruce whispering sweet nothings into my ear, even if it were three thousand miles away. The writing life, nothing compares. If you would like to read the interview, look for it in an upcoming feature at Entertainment News Zone Magazine at http://www.enzm.com. You can read Bruce's latest columns at http://www.wbrucecameron.com. |
Just Bruce and Me: My Date with Bruce Cameron, Author of "8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter" A few months ago, I had the privilege of interviewing the infamous Bruce Cameron, author of "8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter" and "How to Remodel a Man," his latest book from Workman Publishing Company. Not only did I have the fortunate opportunity to have the interview published by Entertainment News Zone Magazine, but I also had the privilege of talking to Bruce by PHONE, something little ol' me would have never dreamed of in a million years. For those who aren't quite sure why this is such a big deal, you must know not only is he the most good-looking man this side of the Pecos, he's also one of the most talked about humorists since Erma Bombeck...only more handsome...oh...I already said that, didn't I? The night before, I remember not getting much sleep. I knew the next day was B.C. Day, the day I dreaded and nervously yearned for at the same time. This was THE BRUCE CAMERON, I told myself over and over, only making myself more stressed as the time ticked away. The interview was scheduled for 1 p.m. and I was sweating bullets the moment I jumped out of bed and scurried about the house as I prepared myself for the interview of a lifetime. I have interviewed many best-selling authors before, but this one was quite different. Not only was I going to be interviewing one of the best syndicated humorists in which a weekly sitcom on ABC starring John Ritter was derived, but I was going to be doing this by phone. This was a first for me, but I was determined to be professional and not some lovesick groupie, which I knew I was, but didn't want to admit. As an aspiring journalist, I knew the basics of what makes a super interview and one very important tool I have found is the trusty tape recorder. I had been pestering my daughter for weeks to find it and she had put it off. I just figured it would be here somewhere and ended up in a frantic search through her closet and under her bed to find it. Beads of sweat were dripping off my face as I turned her room upside down, which in reality was the way I had found it, but it was nowhere to be found. Minutes were ticking away, so I had to put Plan B into effect: I would use the type-the-answers-on-the-computer- while-balancing-the-phone-under-my- chin method. I wasn't sure if this was going to work and as my loving daughter was responsible for losing the tape recorder in the first place, I sent her out to a phone booth nearby and had her call me and pretend she was Bruce to test it out. An hour later (she had to stop at McDonald's first of course), she called me. "Hello?" I asked. "Hi, this is Bruce," she said. "Bruce..uh...hold on...my neck is starting to get crinkly sensations." Because I don't have speaker-phone, I was cradling the phone under my neck and suddenly I knew what it meant to have a 'crick' in your neck. I had gotten three words down and my neck started getting these crinkly sensations, for want of a better word. I knew this method was definitely out. I then tried writing the answers out by hand which worked much better. I hung up and did last minute researching and went to lie down. That's when the biggest rumbling sensation started in the pit of my stomach. Great, I thought. Now is not the time for my taco breakfast to work on me. No sense wasting valuable research time, I grabbed "8 Simple Rules", and headed for the bathroom where I not only finished my research, but also found time to read "99 Sexy Ways to Touch Him" and "What His Body's Secretly Saying" in the latest Cosmo magazine. You never know when this stuff will come in handy. I got up and went back to the computer and checked the messages in my humor writing group to try to unwind. I relayed my fears to them and their resounding advice to make this a great interview was to calm down and be myself. Myself? When? When I'm about to be hit by a Mack truck? When I'm about to have my teeth drilled? When I'm about to give birth? So, I got up and did some laundry. And walked the dog. And bit off every fingernail I had. It was two hours to countdown and I knew I had to have the perfect surroundings. I had a cordless phone, so I could choose any room I wanted. What would be the perfect room? I had a kid in every room except for my bedroom, the bathroom and the kitchen. The bathroom was out as I'd be tempted to use the facilities during the interview and hopefully if I stayed away from that room, I'd be alright. The bedroom was tempting with its king-sized bed and mirrored ceiling, but I knew if I chose that room I may get sidetracked and who knows what kind of interview that would turn out to be. The kitchen was my last alternative, but I also had to deal with passing children, dogs, cats and the occasional visitor. I had to take that chance as it had a table and a chair and no mirrored ceiling to distract me. Coffee was brewing as I laid everything out: notebook, several pens, cigarettes, Bruce's book, the phone (well charged), and my address book with his number circled in bright red marker. I opened the windows to let in some fresh inspiring air and took the dogs out to pee. One o'clock approaches and it's time to call. The kids have left to pick up one of the pooches at the vet and I was all alone. Just Bruce and me. I dialed the phone, my heart beating faster than speeding crawfish in a tank of piranhas. And then...his voicemail came on. The man of my dreams had stood me up. What could he have better to do than talk to his number one groupie? Was there no space in his celebrity world for a little country girl like me? I couldn't believe this was happening. I left my number in case I got the time wrong and hung up. I lit my seven-hundredth cigarette and answered email, watching the clock. Will he call back? Should I try again? Was that rumbling in the pit of my stomach a sign of nature calling or was it my heart splintering in a thousand pieces? Seventeen minutes had gone by and yet the phone lay silent on the table. I couldn't stand it anymore and called him back. By now, the voicemail and I were getting pretty well acquainted. I was almost tempted to ask it for a date only I thought that would be a big blow to my ego for it to turn me down. I glanced at the clock. Nineteen minutes went by. The air coming through the window had gotten cooler by this time and I got up to close it. I paced the floor. Something had to be wrong. I walked by the phone and decided I'd make one last attempt. That's when I realized what happened. I rechecked the number and realized that I had called his house in California and not the one in Denver, where he was vacationing with his family. I didn't realize that he had given me two contact numbers and that he had told me that he would be in Denver. I hurriedly dialed the Denver number, hoping that he didn't think it was I who stood HIM up. This time, I made CONTACT. "Hello?" came the deep voice from the other end. IT WAS HIM. "Bruce? Hi! Dorothy Thompson here. How are you?" "I'm fine, Dorothy!" He seemed a very easygoing fellow, nice strong voice, never hesitating, always on the ball. I interrogated and he shot back some pretty good answers. In the middle of our 'date', the kids arrived with the dogs, happy as pigs in mud to be home. You could hear them crinkling McDonald's bags again on the way through, turning on the microwave, and I'm standing there waving maniacally for them to leave the room. After all I had been through, I was determined they were not going to ruin my first date with the incredible Bruce Cameron. He laughed and asked me how many kids I had. I went to name them and had to yell to my daughter to ask her how old she was. I'm sure he was thinking I was just another dumb blonde from the get-go, but if he did, he didn't let on. That is the kind of person he is. They don't come any nicer, sweeter, and incredibly gentlemanly...traits that are hard to come by these days. Overall, it was a pretty good interview and I felt I did a pretty darn good job, being as he was my first phone interviewee that is...get your mind out of the gutter. But, nothing can compare to that incredible feeling sitting at the table with Bruce whispering sweet nothings into my ear, even if it were three thousand miles away. The writing life, nothing compares. If you would like to read the interview, look for it in an upcoming feature at Entertainment News Zone Magazine at http://www.enzm.com. You can read Bruce's latest columns at http://www.wbrucecameron.com. |
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