I have once interviewed a well-known novelist.

It was back in 2009, when I was studying arts management in New York. The assignment we were given was was to carry out an interview to one of those “movers & shakers” in New York. I was very excited about the task, but I had no idea where to begin. Having lived there for only three months, I didn’t have much connection to the art scene in New York. Sure, there were quite a few movers and shakers in town, but my English was quite limited at that time.

I was frantically checking the upcoming arts exhibitions and cultural events to pick a candidate for my assignment. I found out that an award-winning Japanese novelist was involved in the production of an art exhibition about Japanese culture. He produced that exhibition as a part of a Cultural Ambassador Program supported by a government agency. It caught my attention.

I looked up his contact details on his website. He was a lecturer at a Japanese university. I emailed him asking an interview.

A few days later, I got a reply! He was setting aside one hour for the interview. I was over the moon, then suddenly, I got really really nervous. 

Back then I was 26 years old. I had absolutely zero experience on how to run an interview. Simply put, I was panicking.

And to make matters worse, this guy was a really handsome 40-something-years old.

I have to confess to be sapiosexual. Talking to a drop-dead gorgeous award-winning author, who happens to be a university lecturer, ticked a lot of boxes. The prospect of having an one-on-one interview, in a cozy bar in New York when he would talk about art for an hour… was just too much. It was equivalent having a Belgian-chocolate ice cream with dulce-de-leche and a cherry on top! My imagination was running wild.

I read some of his writing, researched his exhibition, reviewed his artists statements, and then prepared my questions.

The day of the interview, I arrived at the cafe 45 minutes early just in case he showed up early as well. My mouth was dry because I was so nervous. I checked my watch every few minutes.

He arrived right on time, looking calm and in control. He looked even more attractive in person. I asked the questions I’ve prepared beforehand, and took some notes as he spoke…

“What is your definition of arts?” I asked. “How does an art exhibition in the United States relate to your career as a successful novelist in Japan? “

He paused.

“I think culture is like an unknown currency,” he said. “It may or may not become valuable. We don’t know. We will never know. But the more people start using that currency, the more valuable it becomes. I would like to cultivate and produce a new currency outside this commercial world. I have been working on literature, but literature is binded with language, which needs to be translated. I wanted to explore other art forms to convey the spirit of Japanese culture. And I wanted to see how people in New York, the epitome of capitalism, would perceive Japanese culture and philosophy.”

I looked at him and wondering if I ever be able to become someone like him. I always wanted to be a writer, but I’ve never given any thought about what I would like to do if I succeeded as one. He was the first person who made me think about that.

I felt privileged. I could monopolize his words, his time, and his insight all to myself. I felt a mixture of arousal and sense of duty at the same time.  

As we finishing the interview, he told me he was meeting someone else at the bar. I thanked him and left. As I walked in the snow to the subway, I realized how much I wanted to write.