My First Tour
Readings are part of a writer’s life. Some love them, some complain about them, but we all need them. Readings are the one real chance we have to personally connect with complete strangers through our work. Yes, we count on the idea that complete strangers will pay money to read our words, but readings give us extra opportunities to reach those who might not otherwise know we exist.
I love reading. When I read my work to an audience, I feel connected to the great tradition of bards and poets stretching back into antiquity. Heck, I may get more out of it than my listeners.
As the residency approached, I was as excited about reading from my thesis – for eight whole minutes yet, instead of the three-to-five of a student reading – as about actually graduating. I would have an audience of about a hundred people, including complete strangers. I had agreed to organize the reading, so I even got to choose my spot in the order.*
Then came the opportunity to read in Seattle at a Cirque event. I would get six minutes to read from one of my essays.
Since the editor from Cirque had come down from Alaska for the Seattle reading, I asked her if she wanted to come up to Whidbey for a second reading. After all, three NILA students and one faculty member had pieces in the current issue. It made sense to me.
It made sense to her to, but it didn’t work with her travel schedule. The only slot the program director could give us was the night before classes start, just after the welcome-back dinner. On that day she would still be in Alaska.
But Wayne Ude, our program director, liked the idea of a welcome back reading. He pointed out that three journals currently had pieces by multiple NILA folks: Cirque, Bacopa, and Shark Reef. He asked me to organize a reading for students (and faculty) with pieces in one or more of those. For me, this meant seven minutes to read a selection from the same essay I would read in Seattle for six minutes.
Now, in a five minute reading most writers can comfortably read between eight hundred and one thousand words at a pace listeners will enjoy. This meant that I had to select between one hundred sixty and two hundred words from that essay to include on Whidbey but exclude in Seattle. In both cases I would read only about half of the total essay, which meant that in Seattle I could only, at best, give a sense of the total essay.
I find it odd that that felt harder to me than reading less than one-fortieth of my thesis novel. Perhaps because everyone present at graduation would know that I read only a couple of scenes from my novel, while anyone hearing my essay might assume they were hearing the whole thing.
Such are the problems writers face when preparing to read.
Three readings in nine days. I was practically on tour. Heh, now I have an urge to make a tour tee shirt.
First stop, August 5th 2012: Journalfest
Setting the lineup for this was tricky. National Treasure and reading powerhouse David Wagoner was one of our readers. I wanted him first on the docket because I refused to make him go last. But this meant that someone had to follow him. I chose to take that bullet, rather than make anyone else do it.
So I suspect that half my audience was still in the thrall of David’s poetry when I read my essay, but that’s part of life. If I’m fortunate enough to be part of group readings once I’m out there on my own, I have to expect that every once in a while I will have to follow a David Wagoner.
The reading itself went well. My essay flowed better and suggested deliveries to me that I hadn’t discovered in practice. If half the people listened, I’d like to think they were glad they did.
Next stop, August 11th, 2012: NILA Graduates All-Star Extravaganza
Once more I was second in the lineup. The difference in the audience, though, was tremendous. The Unitarian Universalist hall was packed, and I could feel the attention of the crowd. Most of the people in attendance knew me little or not at all and no one present had heard me read from my novel. This was also my wife’s first chance to see me read in public.
Again I think the reading came out better live than it had at any of my rehearsals (and I’d rehearsed several times the preceding week). I know this one went over well for the listeners because afterward people complimented me on the content of what I read, instead of simply saying that they enjoyed it or that I read well. I figure if I have them noticing the words and not the reader, that’s a good sign.
Last stop, August 13th, 2012: Cirque Presents
The moment my NILA cohorts and I arrived someone asked if we were there for the poetry reading. This concerned me: all three of us had come to read essays. Don’t get me wrong. I know no one was going to oust us or demand that we read poetry (although all three of us could have). I just worried that if the evening had been advertised as a poetry event, we might not have a good audience for our essays.
Marvin Bell, speaking to a NILA class back in August 2010, said that it’s good when unexpected things happen during a reading. They wake people up and grab their attention. He was talking about temporary power loss or the like, but in this case I thought it applied. If these people were here for poetry, they would be surprised by my essay, which might wake them up and make them listen.
Which would help, because I was eleventh in a lineup of about fifteen, and I would be reading after the intermission. I needed all the help I could get.
I felt like this was my weakest reading. Although more than thirty people had come to listen, I could not see them through the stage lights and had no sense of connection. Further, I was worried about catching the ferry back to Whidbey in time to pack, get my homework done, and still get something like a reasonable amount of sleep before my last day of classes. Still, it seemed to go over well. I even got some applause and a few comments afterward.
Still, I suspect that you have to expect a little craziness, when you’re on tour.
*Actually, what I wanted worked well with what the other graduates desires, so this was no big deal.
