electric mist

little things I learned from my first read...

Tonight was the first reading of the New Orleans essay book, and now, several hours later and wide freaking awake at 4:30 a.m., I thought I'd record a few of the things I learned on the off chance they may be of help to someone.

1) It might help if you actually told people your name. Including last name. You may have to practice it a bit on the way to the read if you're a tiny bit nervous, but it's a really bad idea to have someone ask you your name and you stare at them with a blank expression as if this is some sort of pop question no one prepared you for and you're being graded by the most evil teacher in the world. Not that I did anything remotely like this. The first ten or so times I was asked. So, full name.

2) Remember how to spell your name when really warm and gracious people come up to you after your read and ask you to sign their book. It is probably a bad thing to look down at what you've written and realize you have completely wandered off track in the middle of your own maiden name and spelled it with some new foreign spelling which is guaranteed to have your dead ancestors knocking at your door in the middle of the night, promising to haunt your ass for being an idiot. So, spelling... kinda important.

3) Remember to say, "Thank you." It is never a good thing when people come up to you and say, "Wow, I really loved your essay," for you to be standing there, frozen in shock, thinking, "OHMYGOD, THEY LIKED IT! THEY LIKED IT!" while staring at them with a blank expression as if they haven't said a word. As loud as it is in your head, they can't hear you. Do something, anything. Grunt. Nod. Aim for a reply in English, but try not to just stand there like a mime.

4) Contrary to what you feel at the time, you will not actually spontaneously combust right there on the spot when you have to get up in front of people and read. There are no records of any writer ever spontaneously combusting. No, really. Never.

5) If you feel like a big idiot (for the inability to speak your name, the blank stares, the nerves), just remember: statistically, no matter how big this reading is, it's still a small number of people (unless you're Stephen King). No one is going to follow you home and put a big "Stupid lives here" banner across the front of your house for the world to see. I think. Let me check in the morning and get back to you on this one.

The publisher, Chin Music Press, was wonderfully represented by Bruce and David Rutledge and gifted designer Craig Mod. I did remember to tell Craig how beautiful I thought the book was; it's truly unique and I am very proud of the aesthetic. I remembered to thank Bruce -- who was just an amazing host -- but my brain completely failed me when I forgot not only to thank David, but I neglected to tell him how very powerful and well-written I thought his essay was. So David, please forgive an idiot too nervous to remember her own name: you totally rocked.*

I also thoroughly enjoyed meeting and hearing the other writers, and seeing the diversity that is so uniquely New Orleans. There is something about a read in a bar where it's almost standing room only, where food is a big part of the party (and many delicious dishes were scarfed up by an appreciative crowd), where there is laughter and drinking and story-telling and all ages gathered around a smoky room, dark paneling, old paintings fililng the walls, with photographs of many a group who've frequented the bar pinned around all of the doorways and archways... it's New Orleans. There just isn't any other place like it.

Ironically, I am not a shy person. At all. I have no problems talking (hush, Corey), and meeting new people and mingling and handling crowds. I'm actually very good at this! So it really surprised me how very tense I felt prior to the read. It all went really well (I am told -- I have almost no memory except for being sort of frozen, though my husband assures me I did okay). We guestimated that we ended up with a hundred or so people attending this tiny location in a ravaged part of New Orleans, so I was very pleased with the turnout. The proceeds from the donations made at the bar as well as $10 per book sold went to the charity "Rebuild Together" which is helping elderly and disabled people without means to be able to get back into their homes. This is so wonderful, I'm thrilled to have been a part of the event. I got to hear the fabulous Ray read his terrific and funny essay. He did such a fine job reading, too, totally cracked up the crowd several times. And he was much better with the whole "introducing yourself, say your name" thing. I need to take lessons. Finally, you just can't beat a night with lots of friendly faces, laughter and mingling.**

*(David not only introduced my read with really gracious words, but he made me feel a lot less nervous through the night and told me a couple of times afterward that he saw people tearing up during the read. I remember hearing it, but it honestly didn't register on my brain until I was on the way home that I don't think I responded much, if at all. Can I plead brain freeze? In addition to being an idiot?)

**(I'm told. I'm not entirely sure. I have this vague memory of a bar, lots of people, and standing on a staircase trying to read in a light so dim, braille would have been easier. I am just insanely proud that I didn't fall down the stairs. You have no idea how proud.)

Posted by toni at February 17, 2006 05:23 AM