I Interviewed Taylor Swift

Jane has also been missing you like crazy and wants to catch up with you in the comments. So please!

Happy dang weekend’s end!

Fellow workaholics (do you consider yourself one too?) can probably relate to how all-consuming it is to fall in love with a work project – with symptoms and side effects similar to what I hear regular people who do that falling in love with other people thing may experience. Where you feel like you don’t need sleep or even air or water (but you do, I have learned - and in case I forget, my best friend - of two - Michael Stipe texts to sweetly remind me. And that was NameDrop number one in today’s thematic post.)

Michael was sending me those texts a lot this week because I was in the thick of the new dream project - which you all probably know about already, because I make an obnoxious habit of talking about things before they are real. I did that with both Sassy magazine and Jane magazine, figuring if I kept saying they were happening while I worked on them happening and was willing to work on them forever until they happened, the science says they would happen or I would die trying. Fortunately (for some of us), I am still alive. So yes, this time it’s my MEMOIR. And this past week working on it has been especially exhilarating and scary and exciting and I'll tell you more soon, if you’re interested.

So I finally got a break last night and got to see my best best friend (of two), who has also been working her little ass off and therefore we haven't gotten together as much. We had the best time just the two of us hanging at her place eating all manner of chips and dips and talkety talk talk talking our heads off, catching each other up on work and love and everything - a LOT happens in a week or two.

I'm lucky to have a bunch of great friends, including all of you here - or the ones of you here who like me - but last night I was reminded of a lesson I learned when I was going through a particularly rough time (for a description of said rough time, preorder that memoir! just kidding about preordering now - I'll tell you when it's available). Here is what I realized:

If you only had one friend in the whole world and that friend was Courteney Cox, you'd be OK. (That was officially NameDrop number two in our theme today.) She's that good. And our time together last night was as fulfilling as anything gets, in my (metaphorical and actual) book.

I love her and I love you and now let's get on to someone else's NameDropping! Take it away, Andy! And then let's all catch up on our weeks in the comments because I have really missed you a lot.

Oh shit, I just remembered another sort of NameDrop anecdote from this week to include: In my phone contacts, my mom is listed as Jane’s Mom. (It is a joke derived from her Jane magazine advice column title, “Ask Jane’s Mom,” but some, including Michael, find it disturbing.) Exactly four times this week when I asked Siri to call Jane’s Mom, my phone dialed James Frey instead. So he and I had lots of funny little conversations - which kind of ties in both of my themes today, memoirs and NameDropping! Let’s just wrap all that up with a bow and go on to Andy’s funny piece, shall we?

Andy tells me that there are Easter Eggs in this story for Swifties and I don't even really know what that means. Apparently, when I was editing the piece and asked Andy to change something, I inadvertently deleted one of the Easter Eggs, so there's one fewer than there were. If you know how that works, or if you find these things, let me know and explain it to me! Thank you!

Love, Janey*

*That is what Courteney calls me and she is only one of two people in my adult life who ever did. The other is my old friend - brace for one final NameDrop of mine - the father I wish I had, Quincy Jones. I love you all again!

By Andy Finley

I interviewed Taylor Swift.

That’s it—that’s the story. But, based on the reactions I get from the few people I’ve told, you’d think I’d stared straight into the face of God.

The interview itself wasn’t that big a deal for me. I’d worked in the music business for several years by that time, so Taylor was just another in a long line of celebrities. No, they’re not just like us, but they’re not demigods either. That said, I do have a tendency to exploit people’s celebrity obsessions. Getting someone to bug their eyes out is an unattractive hobby of mine.

This was also when she was just Taylor Swift, rising country artist—not TAYLOR SWIFT, WORLDWIDE MEGASTAR AND FORCE OF NATURE. She’d recently released her debut album and was slogging through the bothersome chore of publicity to keep the momentum going.

If you’ve ever imagined what celebrity speed dating would be like, it would look strikingly similar to this publicity event. I was working for a radio syndication house, and my boss sent me to get as many interviews as I could. I met so many country artists that I honestly don’t remember most of the people I spoke to that day.

What immediately struck me about her was just how much this eighteen-year-old kid had her shit together. Right away, she was easygoing and not at all bothered by the fact that I was likely the twentieth person she’d spoken to that day. She shook my hand and didn’t have that starry-eyed look of naivete, which is a sure sign that a young artist is about to be eaten alive by the big machine. Taylor was level-headed, funny, and kind. That’s a stretch for most eighteen-year-olds, much less one with two hit singles.

The conversation was your typical talking point stuff. The obvious, forgettable questions, with equally obvious, forgettable answers. I think that’s another reason why I remember her charm more than what she said. [Believe me, I asked Andy to take his gingko supplements and remember at least one quote for us, but he understandably doesn’t want to risk getting it wrong, because the reaction to that could be even more alarming than the heart palpitations he is already inducing. So I said ok. -Jane]

We spoke for about ten minutes and then her publicist shooed her along to the next person. I then welcomed Ronnie Milsap, who carried a small Braille typewriter with him to remember people’s names, and my time with Taylor became a blank space in my mind.

This is me trying not to get yelled at in a store while taking surreptitious pictures of myself with Taylor’s new album because Jane is relentless.

Now, I want to be super clear: I do not walk around dropping Taylor’s name wherever I go. I think I’ve told this story to maybe five or six people since I left the music business in 2010. I did it for the first time in 2013, when I was talking to my neighbor. We were discussing who the hell knows what, when his twelve-year-old daughter walked over to ask her dad if she could go see Taylor in concert.

Here’s a picture of my friend, Paige, who lives in WI, and went to a TS concert at the Superdome. When I asked her if she specifically flew down there for the concert, her response was right on brand: “I did indeed. Worth it though!” No, Paige. It’s not worth it. For that kind of money, the concert should have changed your whole life.

He rolled his eyes and looked at me. “She’s absolutely obsessed with Taylor Swift.”

Suddenly, I was hit with the mischievous thought that I can never resist: Let’s See What Happens.