Reading in Public

and other unsavory habits.

Last night I had the privilege and honor to read one of my published stories (The Deal, from McGill University's Scrivener Creative Review) at Art2Art7, a wonderful gathering of authors, singers, sculptors and other artists and their fans. The reading went surprisingly well, considering the extensive collection of exotic butterflies pinned between my esophagus and my duodenum. Apparently my bad haircut acquired the day before the event distracted the crowd's attention from my shaking legs, or else everyone was too kind to say anything.

Public reading is like any other form of public speaking, however, and here my arbitrarily-many years of middle management stood me in good stead. Even without PowerPoint running on a projector, the same rules apply, so here's my version of Public Speaking Tips for Authors (no dummies here):

Know your material. Don't expect to read something you wrote two years ago without reviewing it first, or you're going to miss the dramatic pause points and trip over your own fancy turns of phrase. Go through the whole piece, out loud, and find the places where you might need to change or eliminate a word or two to smooth the verbal flow. (This is good advice at any point in the editing process, by the way.) This reading at home is the place to find out if you're over (or, less likely, under) your alloted time. You may want to change your margins or line breaks in order to insure that you're not flipping over a page in the middle of a climactic sentence, breaking the spell.

Slow Down. Everyone reads too fast to begin with, and when you're nervous you read even faster. Force yourself to slow down. Put a big black mark every so often on your manuscript to remind yourself to take pauses. (Don't type the word PAUSE, though. You'll end up reading it. Trust me on this one.)

And finally, Look at the Audience. Sure, unless you've memorized your piece you'll be reading from a sheet of paper, but that doesn't mean you ALWAYS have to be staring down at your hands or the podium. At dramatic pauses, look up and out at someone -- anyone -- make eye contact. Scan the crowd briefly while you're turning pages. Smile when the crowd is laughing, even when they're laughing at the wrong places. You're there to make a connection, and your voice is only one of the tools at your disposal. They want you to have a great reading, and seeing that in your audience will make you a better reader.

Reading. For all the definitions of the word, it's why we write.

Regina Spektor and Me

"You don't have no doctor Robert
You don't have no uncle Albert
You don't even have good credit
You can write but you can't edit
Edit, edit, edit, edit, edit, edit... " - Regina Spektor, "Edit"

Actually, in my case it depends on the day. Sometimes I think I'm a better re-writer than a writer, happily able to pull apart and reassemble previous work, but not able to come up with an original paragraph given a blank screen. Other days, maybe after pulling out my copy of Monica Wood's The Pocket Muse, I can start lots of stories. Even end a few, too. Of course, the stories are filled with tired phrases, nonsensical characters, flat descriptions, and unnatural dialogue all badly in need of editing, but hey, at least it's new unnatural dialogue and flat descriptions.

The problem is, in this biz you have to be able to do both.

The solution is, you don't have to do them both at the same time.

Banging your head against the wall staring at a blank piece of paper? Your freewriting document look this?

I'm freewriting now, i'm writing whatever comes to my mind, i'm wondering how much time is left on the timer and if the Super-G is on television, and I don't even know what the Super G is but it's got to be better than sitting here typing this.

Well then, it's time to give up. No, not give up on writing altogether (and don't tell me you haven't thought of it). Give up on the new stuff, call up the last manuscript you've workshopped but haven't revised, and have at it.

You may find that re-working is working today. And when you can't edit, and you aren't looking forward to revising the same seven pages for the seventieth time, maybe it's time to try something brand new. Write a six-sentence story. Write about the creepy guy who was staring at you in the gym. Even, shudder, write a poem. Anything new.

Of course, you may have a specific deliverable that's butting up against a deadline, and only editing or new production will do. But that's a question for another day, and at least it's one that means you've got a writing assignment.

I've been editing like a demon this week (an ink-stained, dictionary-thumbing demon), but even though I now have a couple of recent pieces just about ready to send out, I was getting tired of revisions today. So you're reading something new that I wrote.

Today, I can write. But I can't edit. Edit, edit, edit, edit, edit...

Writing Experiment #1, (dis)continued

"When do you write?" I've been asked, sometimes by other writers looking for validation of their own quirky habits, sometimes by the curious unintiated who can't imagine spending any time at all doing such a thing.

I'd like to be able to reply with something witty or profound, preferably both ("Why, I'm writing even as we speak").

I'd like to be able to say, whenever I can snatch a moment alone with my notebook or computer.

But if I'm being truthful, I have to say, "Only in the evening."

And by that I mean, only in the evening between 8 and 9, because before that I'm eating dinner and watching something on the DVR (say, Project Runway or the Colbert Report) with Penny, and after that I'm likely to be enjoying a cocktail or a glass of wine before bed.

I've tried. In fact, this past week I tried not once, not twice, but thrice, to write in the morning, either before leaving for work or at Lincoln Street Coffee in Newton Highlands where I normally get my reading time in over a large cup o' Joe. Trying to create new writing habits this year, after all.

FAIL. I produced nothing from the blank pages other than one paragraph of freewriting that devolved into a To Do list, and a couple of elaborate geometric doodles.

Apparently I'm a receiver, not a sender, in the morning. I listen to my MP3 player, read, and eavesdrop on my fellow commuters as I start to make sense out of another day in the life.

After the sun sets is when I process it all, and make my home-made mental sausage.

And on that note, back to the grinder. It's not quite nine o'clock.

Writing Experiment #1

"Try writing at a time of day when you don't usually write. If you're a morning person, stay up late and open your journal. Night owls, try putting pen to paper before that first cup of coffee."

Writing Experiment #1.

FAIL.

I'll write more about it tonight. Because that's when I write.