When reading your work in front of an audience is not as frightening and horrible as you picture it.

Blerg. I feel like I'm coming down with something. And if you have spoken to me this past year, I've been bragging about my resistance to every single bug for the last few years. If you are the one who gave this to me, run and hide. This may just be allergies, though...

Last night I read at Poetry, Prose, and Pints. They initiated me out in the parking lot with crepe paper and water balloons...at least I think they were water balloons...

(Disclaimer: Dressel's and Poetry, Prose, and Pints performs NO initiations in or outside of the vicinity, nor does it support hazing of any kind. End Disclaimer.)

Now that's out of the way, I can go back to last night. It was a good turnout, even though there were only 5 readers. I debated and debated on what to read, because I only had 10 minutes or so. I was very blessed to have a bunch of friends from my writers group there to encourage me, who have been telling me to read at PP&P for a long time. This is what I learned, for those preparing to read for the first time (or you seasoned readers, who might want to give me advice on what to do next time):

1. Pick something that excites you. Same as when you're writing, you want to SHARE something you're excited about, something that is still fresh and you can connect with. If you are bored with your piece, you'll have a harder time connecting to your audience.

2. Edit the crud out of your piece. I have never edited so ruthlessly in my life as I did when I was preparing for this reading. I cleaned it up once, timed it, and whoops, it went over ten minutes. I thought I could get rid of a few things, sections that didn't belong, didn't read well, unnecessary to the story. Then I got rid of needless words. If I had two sentences that basically said the same thing, I got rid of one of them. Then I wondered if that sentence was essential at ALL. Did the audience already come to the same realization I did? Did I REALLY need to remind them of this or that? When I was finished, I had the tightest piece of work I ever had.

3. Tell the audience something about yourself and INTRODUCE your story. I did the former, but I didn't think the latter was important. Afterwards, a few people came up and told me that I should have informed them from the get-go I was reading a piece of prose, because they'd been expecting poetry. They didn't realize I was reading a story until halfway through, and therefore, they'd been distracted through the first half. Do not give your audience any reason to not like you or your story other than just not LIKING your story, and this includes not distracting them. Give them every reason to like you, to be engaged.

4. Slow down. If you previously timed yourself just over your allotted time, don't make the mistake of thinking you have to read fast to not go over your time. It is more important to not suck at reading your work, and if the audience isn't following you because you read like a mad train, what's the point of even getting UP there and sharing?

5. Don't be so hard on yourself. Enjoy it, and don't take it so seriously. Depending on the venue, most readings are very casual and easygoing. If you mess up a word, just repeat the sentence. It happens to everyone. Don't compare yourself with those seasoned writers who get up to the mike every single month. If you are pleasant and funny and your work is tight and entertaining, you'll be fine.

So, my first time reading is over, and I'm ready to do it again. It is a great experience, and getting feedback from people who enjoyed your reading is super-fun. It makes you feel like a celebrity.

Don't forget to encourage people who are also writers who might come up to you afterwards, and you can ask them when they're going to read. If they say they are not sure, or they're too afraid, tell them about your experience. Let them know it's not as horrible as they picture it, and doing it for the first time is a rite-of-passage for the professional writer.

Fighting Fatigue When You Are a Writer

I really like winter. I just love the coziness of snow days and drinking a hot cuppa. I like how you can be insentient without feeling guilty, although I still remain creatively motivated in the midst of a thousand yawns.

What have you done this winter? How have you allowed yourself to relax, if you have allowed it? What things have you done to jump-start your creative endeavors, or are you waiting for spring for a fresh start?

I am not ready for spring, although it will make my walk to the Gallery each morning a lot more enjoyable than having to navigate over icy sidewalks. I have started a new novella that was supposed to be a short, but I'm having so much fun with it, I can't stop. You want to know a cool way to keep your story fresh and not get bored/stuck while writing it? Try a multi third person narrative, and when you start to run out of ideas, you can always switch characters. When these characters start to cross paths, that's where the real fun begins. 

Some updates: HERE is my new article on Onstl.com, and I will probably be reading at Dressel's Poetry, Prose and Pints the first Tuesday in April. What I will be reading...well...hey, look, a squirrel!

Do you find your brain fighting with you when you're trying to get non-writing tasks finished? How are you compensating at the office when you suddenly have the urge to push your inbox to the side when you just HAVE to jot down some notes about the weird lady who came in with a beehive hairdo, because she is a PERFECT addition to your new mystery and suspense work-in-progress? Yet, when you get home from a hard day, the last thing you want to do is write and use your exhausted brain. Instead, a comfy couch and MGM musicals seems much more inciting. If you have the solution, message me.

Now for another task...deciding what to read for P, P, & P.

Writer vs. Author, and Networking Fun

Wow, what a busy couple of weeks. Last night I had the privilege of attending a writers' symposium at UMSL, where a panel of local and non-local editors answered questions about their magazines, submissions, and the importance of print fiction in the new age of digital technology.

It was so cool to put faces to the magazines I know. Among those attending were Boulevard Magazine, Natural Bridge, Women Arts Quarterly, River Styx, The Missouri Review, December Magazine (about to launch into a brand new era), and Prime Mincer. I got copies of recent editions and mingled in the foyer afterwards feeling rather bookish and erudite.

I didn't get to speak with everyone there, but I learned a lot and made some decisions about making submissions.

Speaking of submissions...

I recently got some feedback on a recent short from about five different journal editors. That never happens. They gave me a lot of things to work on, but their encouragement was overwhelming. The fact that their decision to pass on this particular story was very difficult for them made me feel like a big-leaguer. And that about five editors I've never met took the time to give me advice makes me feel like an author. Yeah.

The Kemper Art Museum opened three new exhibitions, too. It has been very exciting to learn more about Braque (a forerunner of the Cubist movement), and to tell the patrons about his history, technique, and influence.

It was a large turnout. The giant ball (Your Imploded View) always provides some amusement as ladies check their lipstick.

So, have you bit the bullet and now describe yourself as a writer, because before, you weren't sure you could fall into that category if you a.) were not yet published b.) did not own any sportscoats with the leather patches on the elbows c.) never wear any broom skirts and/or peasant blouses d.) did not write in a log cabin with only cold running water and bears to talk to?

And if you call yourself a writer, can you call yourself an author? What is your definition, and what is the distinction? OR are you hesitant to call yourself either one, because even if you LOVE writing that one novel you keep in your drawer and you can't move on to another project because you cannot decide what to name the ex-fiancee of the main character's lawyer, and the ending is just too this or that but you can't move on until it is perfect omglol you just can't find the time to write?

Put that frigging novel away and do something else, dang it. Don't make me slap you.

You Can't Do *Everything.*

But what if you want to? What if you're like me and you have multiple interests, training in various creative fields? And you're not ready not willing to concentrate solely on just one?

So many people have told me that I have to pick one thing, and to a point, they're correct. After all, to be awesome in something means you have to devote tons of time to it, and they're just so much time we're allowed. But what it they're wrong?

What if there is a way to get in your practice time to all your passions? And let's say that for a time, when you're not super-passionate about , does it mean you have to work on it? And we all know if we don't practice, our aptitude goes down. Time not spent at that thing hurts all the time you've spent getting good at it.

What if you're good at something, but you're just not feeling it lately? What if your mother (or your teachers, or your grandmother) told you your whole life that you're great at , and you'd better not lose it, son? Does that mean you're wasting that talent, wasting your potential? Or is it okay to give it up, at least for a little while until you're passionate about it again? And it is never good to let your mother (or teachers, or grandmother) down.

I'm not going to answer this, and if you happen to know the answer, please send it to me and save me a lot of sleepless nights.

I guess we can't do everything. We can try, but we should only try if we want to do those things. (And I mean WANTWANTWANT to do them HOLY CRAP, I can't LIVE without it, man, omgBBQ). Having a talent is NOT like having a spouse, even though we treat it that way. It might get angry and jealous, and then you feel guilty, but you're NOT bound to the thing. You're free to explore other passions, to neglect it if it doesn't make you happy. And then come back to it when you miss it. It will be wilted and neglected, but it will still be there, and after awhile it will start to talk to you again.

What do you find yourself doing when nobody's looking? And what do you do because it's your "job?" Where and when does discipline and technique have to stand aside and let you have a bloody great time?

And how do you know when you really, TRULY, LOVE what you're doing? There are just so many THINGS out there that don't let you have fun doing what you love. They don't want it to be fun; they want it to be a nightmare. Maybe because it was a nightmare for them, and they have to pass it along, like the holiday fruitcake no one wants to get stuck with. Fruitcakes are never fun.

But maybe you can make a new tradition and toss that fruitcake out the window, and get out that new platter of baklava (I love baklava). Who needs fruitcake? Yes, it's a tradition, and yes, everyone expects it, but wouldn't you rather have the frigging baklava? There is a lot of thought, preparation, and chemistry that goes into baklava, too, and not just fruitcake. Fruitcake isn't the end of all ends.

Whatever it is, make it as well as you know how. And when you're in the middle of making it, pause for a moment to make sure you're having a blast.

Here I was having a blast playing hooky the other day. Can't you tell?

Why Your Work Never Feels Good Enough (And Why You Will Never Be Satisfied, and That's Okay)

So, this pretty much solves the problem I've been struggling with for a long time (all of my life, actually). It should definitely be watched by counselors and psychologists when they get a patient who is an artist.

Stolen from Jeff Goin's blog, quote by Ira Glass:

P.S.

Oh, and here is my newest pub in The Weekenders Mag. Search for 'The Shadow.'

And because I'm feeling muse-y:

Telling the Truth

So, I've been thinking a lot about operating on a deficit, and making creative work honest. Knowing the story is about the story first, and how the characters (and the narrative, because they are a character, too, and don't you deny it) TELL the danged story. And how the characters progress through the story. How they learn and screw up, then learn a little more. And the other way around.

How we do these same things every day, and why our brains don't explode from all the learning, and messing up, and the writing, writing, writing.

So much of my life was spent doing what I thought I had to do, and not even the way I wanted to do it. No, more like...I didn't even get to have fun while doing it. I keep thinking about that awesome audition seminar I went to, when Annamaria Pileggi kicked our butts into reality. What she said blew me away, not just as a bad auditioner, but as a bad life-liver, a bad thinker, a bad self-esteemer, etc.

It HAS to be honest. If your monologue, your song (or your writing, your dance, whatever) isn't honest, and you don't believe in it, neither will your audience. You can belt that high C, do that trill in Adele's Laughing Song, and put the fight scene exactly where it's supposed to go, right at the climax, before the resolution, after the sex scene. But you know what? If you don't believe in the story you're telling, who the frick cares?

I want to care. I'm tried of doing monologues I can't stand, and auditioning with Voi Che Sapete. I hate Voi Che Sapete. Okay, it's Mozart, and everyone auditions with Mozart. He was amazing, brilliant, magical. But not Voi Che Sapete, not to me. And I have figured out WHY.

The song is sung by Cherubino (played by a woman), the 18th century's equivalent of Mr. Belvedere. Except Cherby isn't a portly middle-aged man with a cool theme song; he's a lovelorn youth who trips on things (at least in my imagination). And who is he obsessed with? The Countess! The richest and most powerful chick in the opera. And the most un-relatable. That is, until she dresses up in her maid's costume, pretending to be her, having a good laugh at the expense of the men. Okay, so now she's become pretty cool. Before that, I never got her. I didn't really care about her. And I also didn't care about Cherubino.

I might be able to relate to the doe-eyed kid who is smitten with the older, richer power-figure, but I always wondered why Cherby is cray-cray for her, because he doesn't really know the Countess very well at all. There is a lot of brilliant humour in Figaro, but the character I found interesting was The Count. Mozart didn't write his part for a girl, so I never got to find out what it was like to play him.

Where am I going with this? Okay, I can go into auditions and sing the opera standards that they want me to. I can sing Caro Mio Ben (a perfectly lovely song), but if I'm not in love with it, WHY? If it doesn't move me, if I don't relate to it, it is going to show. What is the point in doing art if you don't relate to it, believe in it, shudder with love for it? We're doing it for US, you know. Sure, there are jobs that we don't like so much, and we have to pay our dues for years. That doesn't mean we give those up, saying, "Well, I don't like this, so I'm not gonna do it!" That is an immature mindset. This is what I've found to be helpful instead: "I'm not really enjoying this, but I'm going to learn from this. This isn't going to last forever, but I need the income, and it is making me stronger, and giving me a new perspective."

The same goes for writing. (And acting, dancing, directing, whatever). I was talking to a friend of mine who got to work with a very well known director, and she mentioned that he never wanted to stop. He never got tired, even after going full-throttle for fifteen, eighteen hours. He was brilliant, but she was exhausted.

"Do you know why?" I asked her, the realization dawning on me.
"No, why?" she asked.
"Because it was HIS baby, his soul. When you are in that magic, feeding your soul, you forget the sun came up. You forget to eat. You pee in your pants because you forgot there are such things as biological urges."

Even though she was enjoying herself, it wasn't her soul like it was for him. When we're doing something that doesn't quite become a part of our soul, we count the hours until we can go home. We think about lunch break, and wonder if we'll have time to get some laundry done that evening. When the magic is happening, the energy is flowing, and it is your baby, your child, your soul, your OWN piece of magic, there is nothing else that exists on the planet.

The point of this blog, as I wrap up on self-indulgent drivel: do what you love. If it gives you joy, and you're telling the story as honestly as you can, you're on the right track. And guess what? Somehow, your audience will know, and their minds will be blown.