The Right Bad Guy

Living in My Head

     Over the past few days I have been attempting to develop a character who would provide me with the complication in another character’s life I was looking for. That probably makes little to no sense, so I’ll simplify it and say I’m trying to write a bad guy. Not a criminal type bad guy, or a sleazy type bad guy. A man who seems to be poised and charming, and musically talented. But there’s another side to this person who was eluding me; he’s narcissistic. That’s his badness.

     I’d been trying to envision a pianist or a conductor for my female character to become entangled with, but nothing I thought about really seemed to work for what I wanted to have happen to her. She’s a gifted violinist, a prodigy, actually. Her talent was recognized when she was four years old.

    Musical genius can be a two-edged sword. I’ve been re-reading a book about musical prodigies and revisiting some of the difficulties they can undergo as a result of their genius. The legendary cellist Pablo Casals, for example, suffered from severe nerves before every concert he ever played, right up until the last one, so he probably dealt with that for seventy years. He also suffered terrible emotional turmoil when he went through puberty and for some time afterwards, and often had thoughts of suicide during that period.

     Laura, my violinist, doesn’t endure anything that dramatic, but she has set herself apart from her peers and has few friends, and hasn’t had a romantic encounter. Okay, she hasn’t had sex yet, and she’s twenty-three. She picks the wrong man to have a romance with. But I couldn’t come up with the right guy. Well, the right wrong guy.

     This morning at 2 a.m. I awoke with the thought: why not make him a tenor? Her father is a famous tenor, so she has warm feelings about singers, and tenors in particular. And she’s still young enough, and inexperienced enough because of her isolation, to not be as discerning as she should be. My quest this morning – okay, in the middle of the night ─ was to find recordings of violinists and tenors performing together. Oh, I do so love YouTube. I was amazed at all the music I found! So poor Laura, she’s going to become enamored of a charmer with a glorious voice who is a real heel.

     The musical quest was a result of a thought as to how she meets this tenor who does her wrong. It would make sense that they perform together, and sparks fly, at least for her. Is there such music for them to perform? YouTube confirmed that there definitely is. Where does this happen?

     A great place might be the Aspen Music Festival, where they are both engaged for the entire eight week season to teach and perform. So thanks, Google Earth, for the tour of Aspen. I’ve been to Colorado but not specifically to Aspen. Well, now I’ve made a couple of virtual trips to Aspen and will undoubtedly make more over the next months. Modern technology, a great aide to the author.

     I’m sure sometimes my friends and family are concerned when I am sitting in a gathering with a blank look on my face, or if I walk right past someone I know on the street without even seeing them. Or call somebody by the wrong name. Yes, I’m getting up there in years. But at this point, what that indicates is that my head is in my next novel. I’m meeting my characters and learning who they are, and finding out what their journey is going to be, and marking time until I can get back to the computer and start writing all this stuff down.

     What a great way to spend my golden years.

Jamie's Story

Not a Fairy Tale 

     One of my reader reviews on Amazon for Eli’s Heart states “The story was fairy tale, full of music and wonder.” There is a fairy tale element to the book; there had to be, given Eli Levin’s dual challenges of a serious congenital heart defect and a prodigious musical talent. It could have taken place anywhere and in any era.

     Jamie Logan, on the other hand, the protagonist of You Are My Song, is very much a product of small town America in the 1950s, He is a good-hearted, naïve boy when the story begins. Jamie has a beautiful tenor voice and is an unusually handsome man. He loves to sing. He has a lot to learn about life, about himself, about what he wants and what he wants to do. About what it will take for him to achieve his dream.

     Jamie is fortunate that he is white, and that he’s straight. He learns through some of his friends and fellow college students that being other than white and straight – especially in the 1950s and 1960s in the South ─ could lead to complications. To his credit, he does what he can for his friends who face these problems, and grows as a man and an artist because of it.

     Jamie just wants to sing, and it’s not that simple. Despite the many attributes he has, and the fact that he is more than willing to work hard at perfecting his craft, the “gold ring” he is after is not easily attained. Good things happen to him and for him, but there are definitely challenges he has to face, both personal and professional.

     What was most enjoyable about writing the book was revisiting “opera world” by listening to – and watching – recordings and videos of operas, and appreciating all over again those glorious voices I have admired and loved for many years. YouTube is great. I saw full length productions of Carmen, La Traviata, La Bohème. I saw the Met’s HD broadcast last year of Tosca and recently of The Merry Widow and The Tales of Hoffmann. I watched again my DVD of Manon Lescaut with the wonderful performers Kiri te Kanawa and Placido Domingo.

     I listened to numerous recordings, both my own and on YouTube, of a number of tenors from the 1950s and 60s: Jussi Björling, Giuseppe di Stefano, Jan Peerce, Richard Tucker, Franco Corelli, Mario del Monaco, Nicolai Gedda, Fritz Wunderlich, and yes, Mario Lanza. Great tenors, all of them.

     I was reminded of both the immense satisfaction an opera singer can experience and the intense frustration he can face. It’s not an easy life. But as Jamie learns, if you are born to do this ─ sing opera ─ you will try to find a way. And there’s a chance if you have the voice and the drive – and the luck – you might know the amazing sensation of standing on a stage with fellow artists and singing with a full orchestra, without a microphone, and feeling your voice soar to the far reaches of the opera house.

  The almost overwhelming joy of bringing music to life as few people can.

  

You Are My Song is available on Amazon, paperback and Kindle. The Kindle edition is only $3.99 and the paperback is currently listed (as of April 2, 2015) at $11.52 (retail price is $14.35). It’s a good story, and I loved telling it!

Photo: Franco Corelli as Don José in Carmen

Excerpt from YOU ARE MY SONG

One Tenor’s Journey

When the reader first meets Jamie Logan, he is at the lowest point in his young life. How he moves beyond that and eventually to a career as an opera singer is a compelling story. Jamie’s path is not easy. He faces personal and professional challenges, including family crises, a jealous rival who attempts to undermine him, a hate crime. Striving to overcome his own self-doubts is a continual struggle for him.

Here is the opening chapter of You Are My Song. The book is available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle, and paperback copies can be purchased locally at the Pocono Community Theater whenever the theater is open. The purchase price at the PCT is $12.00. 

Please visit my Amazon author page:

http://www.amazon.com/Susan-Moore-Jordan/e/B00IBZ731U/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1427287162&sr=8-1

PROLOGUE

Jamie Logan found a parking spot not far from Al’s Bar and sat in his car for a long moment before leaving the air-conditioned comfort of the ’58 Chrysler Three Hundred. It wasn’t his car; it belonged to the dealership, and he’d just grabbed the keys because he needed wheels. His car, a ’54 Dodge Royal, was in the shop awaiting repairs.

     It was a sweltering, steamy evening in East Tennessee, and even though Jamie had only a short distance to walk, he had just left his office and was dressed in a suit and tie, hardly comfortable attire for the weather.

     He’d found himself making this stop more and more frequently over the past six months or so, reluctant to go home, now that “home” consisted of his old bedroom in his parents’ house. Walking into that house was a daily reminder of the marriage which had ended so badly after beginning with such high hopes.

     He sighed, opened the car door and stepped into the heat, pushing his way through the door to Al’s into what was inevitably a smoky atmosphere. It wasn’t much cooler than it was outside; the air conditioner in Al’s never seemed to work very well. The jukebox was turned down but he recognized the tune; Jerry Lee Lewis, “Great Balls O’ Fire.” Regulars in the bar waved at him as he came in; they seemed to regard him as one of them.

     He returned the waves, walked to the bar and ordered a draft, whatever was on tap. It didn’t matter; beer was beer. The envelope in his inside jacket pocket felt bulky. When he got home he’d take it out and look at the divorce papers inside.

     Jamie glanced around the room and realized he was quite possibly the youngest man there. How had he come to this; how was it that at twenty-two he was dealing with a situation which seemed to happen more to men at least twice his age?

     The beer was icy cold and tasted good to Jamie. He wasn’t going to rush to sign the papers. It was a formality anyway; the marriage was over. After what Sarah put me through, she can damn well wait.

     The song on the jukebox changed; Dean Martin, “Return to Me.”

     “Hey, Jamie! How about helpin’ ol’ Dean out? You gotta know this one!” Jamie didn’t even turn around.

     “Throat’s kinda sore, Les. Anyway, Dean’s doin’ just fine on his own.” This happened from time to time; people who remembered Jamie as a singer from four years earlier, when he’d had the lead in the high school musical. He’d loved to sing back then, and people liked to hear him. But Sarah hadn’t wanted him to sing, and whatever Sarah wanted, he had tried to give her.

     Jamie drained his beer mug and ordered another. Summertime, he thought. I always loved summers when I was a kid.

 Cover design by Tristan Flanagan

A Very Different Story

Not a Fairy Tale

     With any luck, You Are My Song should be available for purchase by the end of the month. I’ve included some difficult elements in this story: divorce, alcoholism, a hate crime, a family tragedy. The South in the 1950s and 1960s had its share of problems, especially for people who didn’t adhere to the “norm.” Jamie, mainly through some of his friends and family, faces some difficult moments.

     One of my reader reviews on Amazon for Eli’s Heart states “The story was fairy tale, full of music and wonder.” There is a fairy tale element to the book; there had to be, given Eli Levin’s dual challenges of a serious congenital heart defect and a prodigious musical talent. It could have taken place anywhere and in any era.

     Jamie Logan, on the other hand, the protagonist of You Are My Song, is very much a product of small town America in the 1950s. A product of a small Southern town in the 1950s. He is a good-hearted, naïve boy when the story begins. He has a lot to learn about life, about himself, about what he wants and what he wants to do. About what it will take for him to achieve his dream.

     Jamie is fortunate that he is white, and that he’s straight. He learns through some of his friends and fellow college students that being other than white and straight could lead to complications. To his credit, he does what he can for his friends who face these problems, and grows as a man and an artist because of it.

     Jamie just wants to sing, and it’s not that simple. Despite the many attributes he has, and the fact that he is more than willing to work hard at perfecting his craft, the “gold ring” he is after is not easily attained. Good things happen to him and for him, but there are definitely challenges he has to face, both personal and professional.

     What was most enjoyable about writing the book was revisiting “opera world” by listening to – and watching – recordings and videos of operas, and appreciating all over again those glorious voices I have admired and loved for many years. YouTube is great. I saw full length productions of Carmen, La Traviata, La Bohème. I saw the Met’s HD broadcast last year of Tosca and recently of The Merry Widow (and plan to attend The Tales of Hoffmann soon – a bonus!). I watched again my DVD of Manon Lescaut with the wonderful performers Kiri te Kanawa and Placido Domingo.

     I listened to numerous recordings, both my own and on YouTube, of a number of tenors from the 1950s and 60s: Jussi Björling, Giuseppe di Stefano, Jan Peerce, Richard Tucker, Franco Corelli, Mario del Monaco, Nicolai Gedda, Fritz Wunderlich, and yes, Mario Lanza. Great tenors, all of them.

     I was reminded of both the immense satisfaction an opera singer can experience and the intense frustration he can face. It’s not an easy life. But as Jamie learns, if you are born to do this ─ sing opera ─ you will try to find a way. And there’s a chance if you have the voice and the drive – and the luck – you might know the amazing sensation of standing on a stage with fellow artists and singing with a full orchestra, without a microphone, and feeling your voice soar to the far reaches of the opera house. You will have achieved something few people ever achieve. 

Introducing Jamie Logan, Tenor

You Are My Song

    The nineteen-fifties. Elvis is wearing “Blue Suede Shoes.” Country music reigns supreme at the Grand Old Opry in Nashville.

     But in a small Tennessee town Jamie Logan ─ a good-hearted young man with a superb tenor voice ─ stars in his high school’s musical theater production and begins an unlikely, almost magical journey that could take him to the pinnacle of the opera world.

   The path is far from simple. Jamie just wants to sing. He is ill-prepared for the jealousy, rivalry and politics he encounters on his way. Family crises also sidetrack him and threaten to undermine his journey.

    But Jamie has a voice beautiful beyond belief ─ and the love of a woman who inspires him to believe in himself. His desire to sing becomes his reason for being. Will that be enough?

     My third novel, the story of a young tenor who aspires to sing opera, will be released by the end of January. I introduced Jamie Logan in How I Grew Up; he played opposite Melanie Stewart in their high school production of Carousel. I like my character Jamie. He has a naturally beautiful voice. He has innate musicianship and an ability to learn quickly, and no ego. He’s friendly, generous, outgoing, considerate. Oh, and unusually good-looking. He and Melanie have a strong connection, and they both wonder if they could be in love. But no, Jamie has a jealous girlfriend he later marries, and she doesn’t want him to sing.

     When You Are My Song begins, it’s four years after Jamie’s graduation from high school, and his marriage has failed. I had to laugh at my readers’ reaction to that; two of them commented they weren’t surprised to learn of Jamie’s and Sarah’s divorce. I wasn’t either. I wanted to see what would happen if I allowed Jamie to reconnect with his love of singing.

     Jamie’s lack of ego is unusual in a tenor. It’s a challenge to be a tenor in the world of opera; everyone wants to hear the tenor’s high notes, and if he doesn’t deliver, there are inevitably negative reactions. There’s a reason many of us love the tenor voice. There’s an intensity to the tenor sound. The response to that sound and those high notes is visceral. It’s a thrill to hear a tenor sing high notes with power and beauty.

     My theory is the tenor ego may be a way to counter the combination of insecurity and fear. Today I can sing a high C; can I sing it tomorrow? That’s the standard in “opera world.” That’s why we find videos on YouTube titled “Guess the Tenor by the High C!” and “Tenor Sing-Off – Faust High C – 15 Tenors.” Even more, we love to hear a tenor who can not only sing that C, but hold it forever and play with the dynamics. All of these things are probably contrary to the laws of physics, or medical science, or something. But the poor tenor is stuck with it.

     Of course, there is so much more to what makes a good tenor: evenness of scale, sensitivity to the music, the ability to shape a beautiful phrase, use of dynamics, command of many languages, connecting to his fellow artists and to the audience among them.

     Jamie has all of that, and more. Here’s his introduction to the reader in my first book, How I Grew Up, remembering the narrator is Melanie Stewart:

“Alice [Melanie’s sister] was right; Jamie was a very handsome boy. He had very dark hair, but fair skin and startlingly blue eyes. But it was more than that which made him so appealing; Jamie was someone everybody liked. He was friendly and kind, and always had a ready smile. Jamie had a truly beautiful tenor voice and he loved to sing, but he wasn’t conceited about it. When people complimented him on his singing, he always seemed a little surprised. He was just doing something he loved to do, and if people liked hearing him, well, that was great.”

     That was Jamie at eighteen. My new book begins when he is twenty-two and follows him through the next seven years of his life, and Jamie goes through a lot in those seven years. While you’re waiting for You Are My Song (and I certainly hope you are planning to read it!), if you haven’t read How I Grew Up or Eli’s Heart, you can order them in paperback or e-book format on Amazon, or people in the Poconos can purchase them at a slightly discounted price at the Pocono Community Theater. I’ve loved writing these books. I hope you enjoy reading them.

 Cover concept and realization by Tristan Flanagan

Voices Stilled Too Soon

Tenors, When the Music Stops

     Presently I am in the process of attempting to finish my third novel, You Are My Song. At this point I am aiming for an early January release, but there’s “no opening night,” a time constraint I’ve grown accustomed to after some thirty years of directing musical theater productions. One of my very astute readers pointed that fact out to me with my first novel, How I Grew Up, when I seemed to be at the computer day and night and finished the book in less than five months, which I have learned is – at least for me – breakneck speed. My second novel, Eli’s Heart, took about nine months. There is also “no closing night” with a book. It’s there for any person who chooses to read it and become a member of the audience for each story I tell.

     Back to the nineteen-fifties, the era I continue to “live” and write in: My character Jamie Logan is a young, good-looking singer from East Tennessee who decides to pursue an opera career when in his early twenties. He’d been the star of the music department in high school, but when he married his high school sweetheart the music stopped. Sarah wasn’t supportive of Jamie the singer, and he wanted to please her. However, nothing he did satisfied her, and the marriage failed.

     Jamie is a tenor. There is something about the intensity of the tenor sound which many people respond to differently; something visceral, a sense that the human voice isn’t intended to soar in this manner and with this intensity. A good tenor, a really good tenor who can provide that ringing high note at the end of an aria performed with passion and skill, gives the listener more than the satisfaction of hearing something extraordinarily beautiful. It becomes an experience; an “ah” moment.

     There’s a bit of a sense of danger having been circumvented, similar to watching a high wire artist take the final step to safety, or the circus flier working without a net catching the trapeze cleanly.

     While writing this book I’ve listened to a lot of opera. I’ve listened to a lot of tenors. I’ve read about a lot of tenors whose lives were touched by tragedy … the potentially great Mario Lanza, who died at thirty-eight. Lanza had so much promise and such a huge gift, and seemed to be destined for a long career as an opera singer. Instead, Hollywood beckoned, and who knows what his accepting that lure may have cost him.

     Jerry Hadley was another fine American tenor who also died far too young. Hadley had an immensely successful career for many years and seemed to have the world of opera at his feet … and yet when his marriage ended, his singing stopped. He was overwhelmed by severe depression for years. It appeared he was ready to begin a comeback when he ended his own life.

     During the Metropolitan Opera’s 2002-2003 season I heard yet another outstanding American tenor make his first Met appearance in the title role in Gounod’s Faust. Marcus Haddock had a beautiful voice and he was already an established international artist. It was a thrill to be a member of the audience for this auspicious debut.

     Some six years later, this very successful tenor suffered two massive strokes in the course of twenty-four hours. He survived but was left severely debilitated. The trauma included damage to his vocal mechanism. He’s begun to do some modest performing but his website does not show any engagements beyond March of 2014.

     From what I’ve read, Haddock is spending a lot of time these days teaching in his home in upstate New York. To have the kind of career he had and have it taken from him so abruptly is difficult to imagine, but he seems to be a man of great courage.

     My character Jamie Logan has other challenges to deal with. While I was writing my first draft I was not aware of Marcus Haddock’s struggle, and learned of it through Internet searches when I recalled hearing that Faust performance which had so impressed me over ten years ago. Ironically, Jamie does have some vocal difficulty and is unable to sing for a period of time.

     Singing again was what Jamie had needed. It was hard to explain to anyone, but he felt a sense of joy when he sang, a sense of being connected to everything good and beautiful in the world … no, in the universe. He knew he was able to produce sounds people liked to hear, and those sounds made him aware he could share the joy that sometimes was almost overwhelming to him, the joy that had to find this expression, this love, this beauty.

     Meredith had been concerned when Jamie seemed depressed, and it made her wonder what he would do if for some reason he could not sing at all … if some terrible illness or accident took his voice from him. Life is so fragile, she thought. We like to think we have control over our lives, but we don’t.

     Jamie doesn’t have to face what Marcus Haddock has heroically been dealing with for some five years at this point. He has other trials to face, and in Jamie’s case, his music … his singing … is what provides him with the means to deal with those events. And while there is no way I can know this, I have to think Mr. Haddock’s music has been his source of sustenance as well. He is still connected to everything good and beautiful in the universe; music is in his soul. It will never leave him.

     I salute you, Marcus Haddock. You are a courageous man and an inspiration.

You Are My Song

TENORS AND HIGH C’S

On July first, Eli’s Heart was released on Amazon. On July third, I began to write my third book, which I’ve entitled You Are My Song. Today, August twenty-second, I completed the first draft of the book. It’s not a short book; probably between How I Grew Up and Eli’s Heart in length, though I haven’t done an official word count as yet.  I am surprised at how quickly I wrote the first draft. It will not be ready to be released for a while; I need to re-read and tweak and obsess for a while before that can happen.   

The story is of a young tenor who aspires to sing opera. I introduced Jamie Logan in How I Grew Up; he played opposite Melanie Stewart in their high school production of Carousel. I like my character Jamie. He has a naturally beautiful voice, he has innate musicianship and an ability to learn quickly, and no ego. He’s friendly, generous, outgoing, considerate. Oh yes, and unusually good-looking. He and Melanie have a strong connection, and they both wonder if they could be in love. But no, Jamie has a jealous girlfriend he later marries, and she doesn’t want him to sing.

When You Are My Song begins, it’s four years after Jamie’s graduation from high school, and his marriage has failed. I had to laugh at my readers’ reaction to that; two of them commented they weren’t surprised to learn of Jamie’s and Sarah’s divorce. I wasn’t either. Though I had not planned to write this book, it seemed to come into my head as soon as I let go of Eli’s Heart. The final steps in book preparation are stressful, and I’ve come to understand the expression “writer’s remorse.” But once the book is out there, it’s out there, for anyone who so chooses to read and hopefully enjoy or at least like something about it.

Some of Jamie’s experiences parallel experiences I shared with another tenor, my late husband Sam, who sang professionally for several years early in our marriage. Jamie’s lack of ego is unusual in a tenor. It’s a challenge to be a tenor in the world of opera; everyone wants to hear the tenor’s high notes, and if he doesn’t deliver, there are inevitably negative reactions. There’s a reason many of us love the tenor voice. There’s an intensity to the tenor sound. The response to that sound and those high notes is visceral. It’s a thrill to hear a tenor sing high notes with power and beauty.

My theory is the tenor ego may be a way to counter the combination of insecurity and fear. Today I can sing a high C; can I sing it tomorrow? That’s the standard in opera world. That’s why we find videos on YouTube titled “Guess the Tenor by the High C!” and “Tenor Sing-Off – Faust High C – 15 Tenors.” Even more, we love to hear a tenor who can not only sing that C, but hold it forever and play with the dynamics. All of these things are probably contrary to the laws of physics, or medical science, or something. But the poor tenor is stuck with it.

And woe to the tenor who asks for an aria to be lowered a half-step because he is exhausted from touring, or has a cold, or knows he won’t have the C for that performance. I think some die hard opera fans have pitch pipes in their pockets so they can announce at intermission, “You do realize that was a B he sang in the aria tonight?”

Of course, there is so much more to what makes a good tenor; evenness of scale, sensitivity to the music, the ability to shape a beautiful phrase, use of dynamics, command of many languages, connecting to his fellow artists and to the audience among them.

I’ve given Jamie all of that, and more. Here’s his introduction to the reader in my first book, How I Grew Up, remembering the narrator is Melanie Stewart:

“Alice [Melanie’s sister] was right; Jamie was a very handsome boy. He had very dark hair, but fair skin and startlingly blue eyes. But it was more than that which made him so appealing; Jamie was someone everybody liked. He was friendly and kind, and always had a ready smile. Jamie had a truly beautiful tenor voice and he loved to sing, but he wasn’t conceited about it. When people complimented him on his singing, he always seemed a little surprised. He was just doing something he loved to do, and if people liked hearing him, well, that was great.”

That was Jamie at eighteen. My new book begins when he is twenty-two and follows him through the next seven years of his life, and Jamie goes through a lot in those seven years. While you’re waiting for You Are My Song, if you haven’t read How I Grew Up or Eli’s Heart, you can order them in paperback or e-book format on Amazon, or people in the Poconos can purchase them at a slightly discounted price at the Pocono Community Theater. I’ve loved writing these books. I hope you enjoy reading them.

UNTITLED BOOK THREE

WRITING, WRITING, WRITING …

Being a self-published author is an adventure. Publishing Eli's Heart through CreateSpace was a good experience; having some skills on the computer definitely was a plus in doing my own formatting. The folks I spoke with on the phone were without exception pleasant, helpful, and never made me feel rushed. No wonder so many people publish on CreateSpace, especially if they can do what I did: handle everything but the actual production of the book. I was lucky enough to have two very talented young men and an accommodating pianist friend to provide the cover I wanted. Marketing is another matter entirely, but we won’t go there today.

There’s some angst with proofreading the book, and I requested two printed proofs before I released Eli's Heart. I am very happy with the finished product. Some people have read it; some people are currently reading it, and some people tell me they’ll probably read it at some point in the future. I’ve had some nice feedback. My official readers had been encouraging, but it was definitely nice to hear from someone who hadn’t made the journey with me and loved the book. Maybe I really can do this.

After the book was released and I saw it actually listed on the Amazon site, and added to my author page (a free service Amazon provides, and a very helpful one), I spent a few days taking a deep breath and noticing that the world is still actually orbiting around the sun. I don’t know about other writers, but I get so engrossed … well, maybe obsessed … when I am writing, I really don’t like to do anything else. For some reason, to this point I really have not experienced “writer’s block.” If anything, I write too much. I write words and words that never get into a book. I heard at a writer’s conference that sometimes we write something we need to write, but the reader doesn’t need to see because it doesn’t really move the story forward. I do that extremely well, overwriting (if there is such a term).

All this is preamble to share with you that after that brief break, I had another story idea. So for the past several weeks I have been working on what I refer to as UNTITLED BOOK THREE. (I feel compelled to always write that in all caps, for some reason.) With both my previous books, the title didn’t come to me until I was well into the book. So they had temporary titles (I think they are called “working titles”). The working title of this book is simply “Jamie’s Story.” If you read How I Grew Up you may recognize the name, and yes, indeed, I’ve decided Jamie can’t let that beautiful voice languish. Or maybe Jamie told me he needed to sing.

The work I’ve done so far on this book (somehow, calling it “work” doesn’t seem right … it’s such a source of joy for me) has taken me into the world of classical music again, this time the world of opera, a place I love to visit. Jamie is a tenor, and the music a tenor needs to study and master is very familiar to me. I spent many years with a very fine tenor, my late husband Sam Jordan, and shared in his journey as he pursued a career as an opera singer, oratorio singer, and recitalist. He opted to not pursue that career after a few years. It’s a very difficult life, and I respected his choice. I sang very little opera in college, but my husband and I gave a joint recital about twenty-five years ago, I believe. It was a thrill for me to sing with him.

The tenor voice is in my opinion the most exciting if it is a naturally beautiful voice and used correctly, with no straining or forcing. I’m including a YouTube video of one of my favorite tenors, Giuseppe di Stefano, performing the tenor aria from Gounod’s opera Faust. He does something with the high note in this aria that seems impossible to me, but it demonstrates perfectly why hearing a tenor who can sing this wonderfully reinforces my feeling about how powerful music is.

Just hearing this is a thrill. How wonderful to be able to produce such a sound. How rewarding to be part of the experience, whether as artist or audience. Bravo, Giuseppe!