One of my favorite writers is Vladimir Nabokov. When he was alive, I not only read all his books but tried to read every word he wrote (in English). I have a folder full of photocopied interviews from newspapers and magazines. Late in his career, after my folder had become thick, Nabokov did something surprising: Came out with a book of interviews (Strong Opinions — here and here are excerpts), which put into book form most of what was in my folder. He wrote his answers to interview questions so this made some sense. Yes!, I thought, these interviews are just as interesting as I’ve always thought. I’d already read each of them about five times; I read them a few more times in book form.
I was such a big fan of Nabokov, and I liked his written interviews so much, that posting my answers to interview questions (here and here) was not an emotionally-neutral event. Partly it was a huge thrill — like being on your favorite TV show. Like being Nabokov For a Day. And partly it was humbling: My answers were way way worse than his.