Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Will
Last night my new writers group met at a Chinese restaurant/lounge a few blocks from our apartment. It wasn't an ordinary monthly meeting, but a formal reading. And while I was under the impression that everyone in the group would be sharing, this wasn't the case. Evidently those interested--and there was a 10-person max--were to sign up for a time slot ahead of time. Of course I hadn't. So when I showed up w/ story in hand, not yet anxious, I was a little disappointed to find I was s.o.l.
Then came the announcement that one person on the agenda wasn't going to make it, leaving the 10th slot open. Reflexively/weirdly my hand shot up, and I was in.
Since the group's pretty fiction-centric, short stories/novel excerpts were the order of the evening. The first five went, all talented writers--and equally talented readers for that matter. Measured delivery, expressive voices, the occasional glance up... more than I had in me, I figured. Eh, I was right. We took a short break, during which I drained my wine glass, then the next four went. Again, all good, all w/ a characteristic style. My name was announced and to the podium I shuffled. Strangely I wasn't too wound up, although I dare say my nerves would've been much rawer had I gone w/ the Diet Coke.
Still, I should've been more agitated, considering my ill-fortune in having to follow Mr. Past NYT Columnist (travel writer) in the lineup. I don't remember his name, but he was impressive enough. Thinking about it, perhaps it would've done me well to have worked myself into more of a tizzy. Maybe then I would've sounded a little more human, a little less robotic. Ah, but it wasn't fated. I don't know that I've ever sounded flatter. While I didn't zoom through my story like I do my everyday speech, I couldn't seem to muster any oomph. All of my characters sounded the same--like dead people. I knew this as the words were leaving my mouth, too, but I couldn't seem to break the pattern. Back to the plus-side: I was definitely more relaxed than I've ever been in front of a crowd, which I suppose was good for something. I was even able to appreciate the Hope Sandoval song drifting down from the upstairs bar. This struck me as odd.
All things considered, it went alright. In the very least, I was able to laugh at myself.
The high point of the evening was when Mr. PNYTC approached me once I'd returned to my booth. He said something like this: "I really enjoyed your piece. ... You didn't do it justice reading it the way you did, but I like your style of writing." A nice compliment, and I actually got a kick out of his honesty. People aren't generally so forthcoming w/ the criticism, you know? Especially since we'd never even met.
Last night was a reminder: A savvy reader can do wonders for his/her work. There was a lot of talent in that room, but delivery was definitely a factor. I think a mediocre piece of writing, for instance, can turn *good* w/ the right voice. Encouraging, as it can't be all that hard to master.
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As a friend of mine once told me when I was preparing for a speech, "no word is a toss-off. Make it count." Great advice. And...congrats for your courage to get up in front of the microphone!!! not easy. but easier with repeated experience. and yes, a little wine helps. MM
Hey, k10, way to go!
Alyssa