Reading Aloud

Confession: Over the last couple of months, I've suddenly realized that I have a social life. Where the hell did that come from?

Reading:

• "Riding the Doghouse" by Randy DeVita
  
• The House of Mirth, by Edith Wharton
  

Writing:

• "Ferian Fetlock Catches a Cold"
  

Revising:

• "The Revenant"

Future Projects:

• Dairhenien's Library - Development
  
• Floorcraft - First rewrite of 1-5, first draft of 6-8
• Ferian Fetlock - "Ferian Fetlock Takes a Wife."
  
• "Motley" - Expansion
• "Fireworks and Earthworks" - 5% into first draft
  
• Untitled School Mistress Story

Unpublished Stories/Status (in chronological order of completion of first draft)

• "Pictures of the Old Port" - 5th Draft, Unsubmitted
• "What Price Stamps" - 3rd Draft, Submitted to The American Drivel Review, July 30th, 2008
  
• "The Frost Fugling" - 2nd Draft, Unsubmitted
• "Black Pudding" - 2nd Draft, Unsubmitted
• "Cora and the Sea" - 3rd Draft, Unsubmitted
• "Motley" - 2nd Draft, Unsubmitted
• "Leaves and Sunsets" - 2nd Draft, Unsubmitted
• "A Happy Ending" - 1st Draft, Unsubmitted
• "The Revenant" - 2nd Draft, Unsubmitted
  
• "Illuminated" - 3rd Draft, Unsubmitted
  
• "A Cup of Coffee" / "Morning Tea" - 2nd Draft, Submitted to Tea: A Magazine, July 29th, 2008
• "Ferian Fetlock Cures a Horse" - 2nd Draft, Unsubmitted
• "Hattie Donnelly's Favorite Doll" - 2nd Draft, Submitted to 24 Hour Short Story Contest, July 27th, 2008

"So... are you nervous?"

That's the question I got today about my reading tomorrow at the Summer Gazebo Reading Series. The answer? Quite honestly no, no I'm not nervous.

Partly that's because I've been reading my stories aloud for several years now, both with the Long Island Writers' Guild and before with the Mid South Writers' Association. When I was in high school, I was selected to read one of my stories at the Library of Congress, and I've got it on film to prove it. My parents like to tell the story of the time I called an entire auditorium to attention, 1,000 students and their parents, after some administrator or other handed me a microphone and told me to get everyone quieted down. I was twelve.

In other words, I've never been timid about public speaking. In fact, when it comes right down to it, I'm a bit of a showoff. It's a miracle I never got sucked into the theater department. For whatever reason, the idea of having thousands of pairs of eyes staring at me while I speak has always been energizing rather than nerve-wracking.

I recognize that this is a trait that is not altogether common among writers. After all, isn't it the writer's task to sit in a room, alone, and pour his or her thoughts out on paper? Reading printed words is intimate. It's one-on-one. It's a conversation between the writer and the reader. And good news, shy writers--you don't even have to be there to have that conversation!

So I can understand why this would be attractive to the solitary and retiring personality. But believe it or not, it's the part of writing that makes me the most nervous.

I hate to be in a room when someone is reading what I've written. I fidget. I tap my feet. I can't sit still. I feel an urge to talk to the reader, to interrupt them, to apologize for what they're reading and even distract them away from it.

How is it that the massive group presentation doesn't scare me, but a one-on-one reading does? I think there are a couple of causes. First, it's because there's a kind of safety that comes with reading aloud to a large group. No, hear me out. There's a kind of role that an audience member fills, certain behaviors expected of them. The same is true for the speaker. There's a kind of anonymity in being a speaker as well as being in the audience. Honestly, if you want people not to notice you, go on stage and start talking. The trick is getting them to start paying attention.

But in an intimate setting, there is no escape. There is no anonymity. Your work is bare-assed to the world, and you can't defend it.

When I read a story aloud, I read with emotion, with feeling. If anything is phrased awkwardly, I can usually contrive to read it in such a way that it still sounds decent. In other words, I have some sort of control over how the story is perceived. But when it's just text on paper at the mercy of any interpretation, well, you can only cross your fingers and hope for the best.

So tomorrow when I stride onto the stage (okay, gazebo) and belt out seven minutes of finely crafted narrative, don't feel too jealous. We all have our own hangups to get over.

Publication Status:

• Submitted: 5
  
• Accepted: 1
• Rejected: 1
• Pending: 3