He doesn't know, as he turns down my request for a telephone interview, that the review will likely appear in a well-known media outlet with a reputation for being picky.
No way that he could know that I asked to review the book -- a chance to appreciate the work of one of my favorite writers.
He can't guess that right now I'm second-guessing myself. Did I sound arrogant? Does one approach famous writers with humility, however manufactured? Could I have been more tactful? Did I not play by the rules?
The writer cannot speculate (because he doesn't know) that right now I'm not sure whether to feel like an idiot or simply to accept principles overrode the chance to score an interview with a well-known author.
He can't know that, after years and years of writing features and commentaries, hard news and analysis, I feel like a total hick right now.
All of that can wait. It's time, once again, to play the professional. The review will be exactly what I would have written before we crossed swords. But I will often, probably, wonder what went wrong.
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