How To Deal With Blank Brain Syndrome When The Stakes Are High

Long ago and far away, I landed an audition with ABC News Radio Networks. They sent me a plane ticket to New York and I made my preparations, dizzy with anticipation.

Since two separate people at the station where I worked had thought it necessary to warn me that “people dress UP in New York, LaVonne,” I decided to spend my last night at home – all night – SEWING MYSELF A NEW SUIT TO WEAR… because that seemed really important.

It wasn’t important at all.

What was important – in fact the only thing that mattered when I got to New York in my poorly-made suit – was how well I did when they dumped a huge pile of wire copy on a desk and gave me two hours to write and deliver a two-minute newscast.

I thought, “Okay, this isn’t gonna go well.”

Did I mention my writer’s block? It didn’t start with blogging.

Some people just have the gift of gab. They can speak or write volumes without half trying. In fact, their problem can be that they don’t know when to stop. Me? I get paralyzed at the thought of making a phone call and having to think of what to say. If I was a guy, I’d be considered the not-so-strong, silent type. Same goes for writing.

I’d been able to get by in my young radio career by scratching out words and substituting my own on wire copy that became nearly-indecipherable – and must have given my voice a certain, panicked ‘edge’ on the air.

In that dusty, old ABC office, it hadn’t occurred to me that writing would be part of the audition. I thought I’d just read a newscast, go through an interview, and be done with it. Um, no.

I looked at the pile of paper with a sinking heart. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was NEWSPAPER copy, which is a whole other ball game from the condensed, three-to-five-paragraph broadcast copy I was used to. To boil a 30-paragraph newspaper story down to a four-line radio blurb that actually tells the story? And then make it sound, I don’t know, DIFFERENT from every other newscaster out there? That’s fucking HARD.

My stomach turned to lead as my interviewer said, “Good luck,” and closed the door on his way out.

What do you do when the pressure is on and you’re freaking out?

The only thing you can: dig in and do your best. I figured, what the hell? I’d gotten a free trip to NYC so I was already ahead. No way was I getting the job – might as well relax and see what I could do, just for fun.

The thing is, I did not have a journalism degree. In fact, I only had about a year-and-a-half of community college drama classes and a year of radio school under my belt. I was a waitress until the age of 31 and had been on the air only four years when I decided to send my audition tape to the networks, just to see if I was good enough to get a nibble.

The sum total of my journalism knowledge came from on-the-job training with a few old-school broadcasters who knew their stuff. Thank goodness they taught me what they knew, because it came in very handy that day.

After reading every word in the pile of paper, taking what seemed like forever to pick the final five stories and put them in order [most important, next important, next important, human interest, and the obligatory funny ‘kicker’], it was time to start writing.

Blank Brain Syndrome took over.

What could I say that was any better than what was already in front of me? I stared at the now-neatly folded stack of paper while the clock ticked.

Finally, in desperation, I asked myself as I read the first story over and over, “What are you thinking about this right now?” I forgot about what I was SUPPOSED to write and wrote down what I THOUGHT about the story. And the next one. And somehow, I wound up with a two-minute newscast just as the clock ran out.

Here’s the part where I’m supposed to tell you the Moral of the Story, and there are several ways I could go with it:

• Get an education, fercrissake (and the best education can often come from an oldtimer.) Be prepared for opportunity when it comes knocking.
• When there’s no hope, might as well relax and find out what you can do.
• Trust yourself. Listen to that little voice in your head (assuming it’s not telling you to hurt anyone!)

That’s it. I’m not big on morals–er, lessons, sorry.

If you suffer from Blank Brain Syndrome or one of its many variations, you’ll love my free Conversation About FEAR with Jonathan Wondrusch. Click here to find out more about how to get it – and get a few hints about what’s coming SOON for #customerlovers!

Btw, the end of the story?

The funny thing is that, even though I sweated bullets writing that two-minute newscast, delivering it in the studio was a breeze. And apparently, my little anxiety attack in front of the pile of paper wasn’t noticed, because I got the job.

p.s. Months later, my new boss told me that of 300 applicants, I was the most relaxed. If only he knew!

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