Is It Just Me?: Or is it Nuts Out There? Read Online Free PDF Page B

same idea, decides to make it, and thinks of me to be in it. Bo-Be-Boo decides to sue me because I’m now accused of stealing that idea and I have to prove that I didn’t. A mess? Yes! But . . . if I don’t read the script—I mean I don’t even open the envelope—there is no issue.
    Sometimes people say, come hear me sing. I say, “You know I’m antisocial. I don’t go out.” People who know me know that I am antisocial, so they stop asking. And then if I show up, they say, “Wow! OK . . .”
    But, if I come, please don’t ask me how you sound. ’Cause I won’t tell you. Come on!!! People don’t really want to know. I know from too much experience that even if I say they sound great, they’re going to say, “No, really, tell me, how did I sound?” and I say, “You sounded great.” And they go, “But . . . ?”
    That’s when I’m sorry . . . sorry I was ever asked the question. Even sorrier I ever went. I say to myself, “You know what? Now it’s too technical. Now you want to know too much. Now . . . where is my coat?”
    Sometimes all folks want is a pat on the back. Other times, people just want to know that they did OK. Most times, they’re leading you out into a minefield. I don’t take that walk. No way. I try to stay on neutral ground. And my favorite word . . . is “swell.” Because nobody’s sure what it means. “That was . . . swell.”
    Gah!!
    There’s another thing going on here. The real point is that someone isn’t just asking me to read their script. Or to hear them sing. Or to stare at their paintings. They’re asking me to tell them something that only they should make a decision about. Do they really need my opinion? Not really. They know if they can do this or they can’t. My telling them that they can do it doesn’t mean anything.
    And that is why God created “swell.” Thank you, God!
    Also, if somebody does take the time and effort to read your work or come see you perform . . . it’s a favor. And if you ask them to call on their expertise and give you their perspective . . . whether it’s good or bad . . . your only response should be “Thank you.” Even if you disagree and want to have a discussion after, I don’t care. Your first two words? “Thank you.”
    You asked for it . . . and they gave it to you. If you’re angry or embarrassed, deal with it. Do not fire back at this person. People do it. That happens. A lot. And it is the worst manners in the world. Why would you do that? This person is already in a tough position . . . And know what? It’s one you put him in because you asked for this favor.
    One of the best criticisms I ever got was from Mike Nichols. While I was running through my one-woman show before we opened on Broadway, he cleared his throat—as only he can do—and he said, “Um, Miss Goldberg . . .” And I said, “Yes, yes, Mr. Nichols?” And he said, “Is there an end to this story? You’re just meandering.” I said, “. . . Well, yes, there is an end to this story.” And he said, “Yes, and you passed it. And so, obviously, you weren’t listening to what you were saying because you would have heard the end of your story.”
    And he was right. I had gotten where I needed to go, and then I was meandering. He was saying pay attention. And I was paying attention to him. That’s Mike Nichols. He’s like those old E. F. Hutton commercials. When he speaks, actors listen.
    But it’s really about you paying attention to yourself too, and listening. And being honest with yourself. I try to be. I’m not always. I refuse to believe that I’m not six two. I can tell myself I’m five four all I want to, I don’t believe it.

Chapter 13
A Civil Person’s Handy List: Things to Tell People Who Put You on the Spot
    We all get stuck in that awkward place. You get boxed into sitting through a friend’s recital, or their improv showcase, or after dinner they drag you into the basement to look at their artwork, which turns out to be