So tomorrow is the big day. I have my book reading in the city. And I'm scared to death : ) I've always talked too quickly, especially when I'm nervous. My dad was forever telling me (and still does) "Slow down, Stace, take a breath." Well, I'm not very good at that, I guess. I practiced the reading today, the first three chapters of The Silver Spoon, and it came out to be anywhere between 45 and 50 minutes of reading, which works out perfectly. Of course, that was a practice run in my house. Alone.
I just want to do a good job. I like the first three chapters. I grew very fond of them as they were always the chapters I sent out to everyone under the sun when I was looking for an agent and a publishing company. So, I don't want to blow it. Read too fast or too monotone or choke on my own spit (you know how that happens when you're nervous and speaking?) That kind of thing always happens to me. Solos, speaking parts, anything that involves getting up in front of people. Except at work. I mean, I'm nervous then too, but I can do it because...well, because I have to. Weird, huh? I don't even really worry about it too much anymore when I speak up in meetings with 50 or more people around me, listening.
Some of that I'm sure is because at work I'm being paid to care and to do a good job. This writing is part of me, part of who I am. I could rant and rave about how it sucks that as a writer I have to get out there in front of people. I could say that writers are supposed to write, not perform. A lot of writers feel this way. But the thing is, maybe I should think about this more as an opportunity to introduce my book, my story, to people who might not have otherwise found it. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I like my story. I love it --flaws and all. It's my baby. And I'm proud to have had whatever limited role I had in bringing it out into the world, I guess. Writing to me is something bigger than an individual writer. It comes from somewhere else...at least for me. Writing and all the tasks associated with it, like readings, are a privilege, a gift.
I guess maybe I want more than just to do a good job. I guess I want to enjoy it. I want to have fun, relish the words and having someone to listen to them, if that makes sense.
Well, I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow. I'm not sure what time I'll be back tomorrow night, so I probably won't write about it here until Tuesday. But, please, think of me tomorrow! : )
2 comments:
im glad your reading went ok. did you like my last message? I like the comment under the picture of you, dad, and me. Dont worry ill catch up to you in thirteen years or so. lol. mom and dad are fine. Things are going crazy with them getting appraisals about the construction they want done on the house and stuff. They have now decided that they are going to build onto the family room and redo the kitchen. Gary was at the house for 3 hours! im in history right now and were supposed to be working on our reports but i finished mine friday so i decided to write you. I think its stupid how i cant write an email. So im reduced to this where you cannot write me back but o well. (Im sure your enjoying my lack for spelling, grammar, and my shorthand you writer you!) Well im going to go but I have like twenty minutes so I will probably write another "comment" later on.
ttyl
Susan
I hope everything went well. I'm sorry Heather and I couldn't be there.
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