I got People magazine today and, for the first time in months, I actually read it. The reason? It had an article in it profiling the ten contestants on Your OWN Show—the new series to pick and groom “the next Oprah”. My interest in the show was more than casual.
It started back in July. “Hi, Linda, this is Emily from OWN.” That’s what I heard one July day when I answered my cell while driving. I immediately thought of thought of my sister, Lisa. Yeah, she’s pulling a prank. She’d encouraged me to enter the OWN contest. I feigned sincerity, “Oh, hi Emily. Is Oprah with you right now?” “Excuse me? I’m calling from the Oprah Winfrey Network. We liked your tape and we want to talk to you about possibly becoming a finalist on the show. What!? But sure enough, it was OWN. Would I be interested in going through a series of interviews to determine if I’d make it to “Finals Week”—a competition of forty contestants flown to L.A.? From that group OWN would then select the final ten for the show. “Yes, I would!”
I was shocked. Sure, I had some on-air experience. I’d started as a news reporter and anchor and then got a job as a correspondent/host on E!, but I hadn’t been on TV much recently—ever since I quit E! more than six years ago to spend time with my sons.
As I fought the urge to phone everyone I knew with the exciting news (there was a confidentiality agreement)—I wondered if this were an omen to get back into TV? I’d certainly been thinking about in the past year. But what would I do? Hard news didn’t interest me anymore—nor did chasing self-absorbed celebrities.
In the early years of being a stay at home mom, I loved it. I drove my kids all over and attended sports games galore. My boys and I had long talks at bath time and spent leisurely summers on the east coast. Then, on a dime, I was robbed. I can easily pick the thief out of a lineup. The Teen Years. My boys suddenly grew up and their lives took off—without me.
I started filling the void by creating a California lifestyle website, SheSez. Even though SheSez’s numbers were growing nicely, I missed TV: the rush, the deadlines, the connection, and working with others. In short, I wanted back in. But I was afraid. I feared rejection—and even worse—being laughed at. I was haunted by a friend’s words when I quit E!, “You’d better be okay with never working again because no one will hire you if you leave now.” I also thought of a TV correspondent who cautioned, “When you’re in your forties, no one wants you.” Or, I’d hark back to the time I stood in a TV executive’s office staring at a tape of a show hosted by Nancy O’Dell. He quipped, “She’s pushing forty, and we’ve got to get rid of her.” Staring at the monitor, I was aghast. Nancy was beyond beautiful and, to me, she looked like she was in her prime! How could he be writing her off? Sure enough, a short time later Nancy was replaced on the show by a woman some twenty years her junior. These harsh comments crippled me. Every time I even considered putting a toe in the water, I quickly put a wool sock on.
