The
title of this blog post gave me some trouble. I tried hard to come up with
something clever and eye-catching in the hope people would be intrigued enough
to read it, but nothing seemed to work. Part of the reason for this: I am
deeply immersed in my sixth novel, Man
With No Yesterdays; and my fifth novel,
Memories of Jake, is in the hands of my Beta readers.
I
don’t know about other authors, but when I have my head that far into a book
(in this case, a two-book series) I think of little else. I try not to do this
when I am driving, and I don’t do it when I’m giving voice lessons, because
that’s also a passion. But I can wash dishes, run the vacuum, feed the cat, eat
a meal, and not even be here. It’s great.
So
that’s why I write. It still surprises me that being near the end of the “ten”
part of “threescore years and ten” I have found this new passion that absorbs
me. It’s even difficult for me to remember the first four novels in detail …
particularly as I’ve worked on this two-book series over the past ten months.
They’ve all been good stories which people have enjoyed reading, and I’m
grateful for that. Even more, I’ve found that the ability to grow as a writer
is exciting. Jamie's Children shows definite improvement from Eli's Heart. Memories of Jake is even better.
A
Beta reader for Memories of Jake sent
me a note yesterday: “By the way, this is a very engaging and well-written
book. The characters come alive, and I had tears in my eyes a few times. It’s
amazing how you spin the story out a little at a time, but everything is
important and relevant and keeps the interest. You have artful descriptions
that paint a picture, but you don’t overdo it. The dialogue is great, I think I’m
watching a movie. Must be your background in theater. You know how to set up a
scene!”
At
that point she was up to Chapter 11, about a third of the way through the book.
It was truly a thrill to hear these nice words, because it told me two things:
1) I had another good story for my readers, and 2) I was telling it better.
That
“growing as a writer” comment reminds me how that was an important part of the
process in directing a stage musical. Watching the show take shape and the
actors, musicians and techies fall in love with what they were doing, making it
their own, was the part of that job I enjoyed the most. When they took
ownership of the production, I had done my work.
Teaching
people to use their voices better is much the same process. I give them the
tools to grow vocally and musically, but eventually it’s up to the student to
learn to understand and to use them to get the best results. And sooner or
later, some of them do “get it.” Those are the students who go on to perform,
to teach, to find a way to be a part of the vocal arts.
Directing
and teaching have both been passions and immensely satisfying. But writing
gives me one thing more. For the first time, I am creating. These books are my
work, they are who I am. And for the rest of my life I hope ─ no, I pray ─ that
I am able to continue to write. Because it’s become as vital to me as
breathing.
It’s
nice when I sell a book. It’s nice when someone tells me they’ve read one and
loved it. But I have found writing to be its own reward. I think I read that
somewhere!
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