Stage Fright, and the difference between oboes and bassoons

So there I was. About to do my big solo. On my bassoon.

For the record, this is not a bassoon.

This is an oboe.


                  Bassoon ==>

         <==  Oboe:

                  Bassoon ==>




They are both part of the double-reed family, but one is much deeper than the other. They are related. Not the same. Neither of them are too terribly popular, but I don't care. I love my bassoon.

Good. Now that that's cleared up.

I was about to play my bassoon in front of three judges who would decide my future for me. Everything. Right there in that room. That huge, echo-y room. They would tell me if I was going to be in a Bachelor of Music Program or not. They were going to tell me if I could be a composer or not. They were going to tell me if I had any skill in playing this instrument or not.

So naturally, I had little to no nerves leading up to the day of the performance. I mean, I'd only been rejected from the program once before, it's not like there was any added pressure of knowing they'd already deemed me unworthy of the spot. This time was in person! So I could actually watch their faces wrinkle up in pain with every wrong note, or tilt sideways when I started to change speed for no reason.

Nerves? Never heard of them. Stage fright? PSHH!!

So anyway.

I don't think I've ever had such an acute moment of stage fright all my life. That moment had me in a borderline panic attack. I can distinctly remember starting to fail at breathing. I would go to breathe in, and it just wouldn't work. My lungs just decided to take a break for once in my life. Of all the days for them to go on a holiday that was the worst one they could have picked. I remember starting to flub every couple notes. I was starting to flounder. I couldn't look up at them. I had to keep my eyes on the page. I couldn't watch them, or I'd surely burst into a puddle of despair and self-loathing. I just kept staring at the tiny black dots in front of me. Willing my eyes to scan the page farther and farther as my lips started to burn, and my chest started to heave.

Halfway through my most challenging song they showed me mercy, and allowed me to stop. They had evidently heard all they needed to hear. I left that room completely drained, and yet at the same time completely liberated. It was over. I wouldn't have to do it again, or if I did, it wouldn't be for a very long time.

The funny thing is, this was very similar to how I felt sending off my first query letter to an agent. I was terrified of hitting the send key. I kept wondering what would happen when I did it. What would they say? What would they think of me? They don't even know me, what kinds of things will they assume about me based on this? Sometimes the hardest part is just not knowing though. Once I sent off my first letter and found out it was a no, it was almost better than before, when I hadn't sent anything. At least it wasn't a 'what if' anymore. It was a reality, and I could actually deal with it.

That's the thing about the things we're scared of. As long as they're imaginary things, or things that aren't yet real, they can be the most frightening things in the world, and they can paralyze us. But as soon as it becomes tangible, as soon as the fear has become physical, then it's something you can face. It's something you can defeat. I would never have been able to defeat my stage fright if I hadn't gotten up on stage. I would never have learned how to deal with people rejecting my book if I had never sent it out in the first place. It's such a cliche, but it's something that I've seen over and over again in my life, and I can't say enough how true I've found it to be.

The unknown is so much more intimidating than the known. Because the unknown could very well be as bad as you've imagined, but the known can only be as bad as you see it to be. Once you know how bad it is, you can do something about it. Until then, all you can do is cower.

(For the record, I actually didn't make it into a Bachelor of Music, they didn't accept me that time either. I was in a Bachelor of Arts majoring in Music at the U of C. But I came to love the people who were my judges on that jury panel, and one went on to be my second all-time favourite teacher. I do NOT see that audition as a failure, but a signpost pointing towards where God's leading me.)


What's the scariest thing you've ever done?

P.S. I'm sorry to anyone reading this on a mobile device. I can't figure out how to make the pictorial representation of bassoons and oboes look good on a phone and on the web at the same time. I'm a writer and a musician, not a techie. I tried that, it didn't work. 

My Thoughts on Rejections

How many rejections does it take to give up on something? How many times do you need to hear "No" before it sinks in? That's the question I've been asking myself lately. In my quest for literary greatness I never imagined so many people would completely overlook how awesome I am...

Seriously though.

I guess it just hits you harder than you expect it to. When someone tells you they don't want to hire you, or you're told that you didn't make the cut for a scholarship, it hurts. Then life goes on, and you suck it up. But how many times do you have to be told you aren't talented enough to start to believe it? How many times does it take to make you start believing you're just being stubborn? Or blind?

I guess what it comes down to for me, is that I believe in my work, and I will stand by it. I know it's not perfect, but I also don't think it's trash. Who knows, maybe I'm deluded, and I'll never get to quit my day-job. Maybe I'm really not up to snuff, but it's not going to stop me from trying. Not yet anyway.


Sometimes I wonder what people will think when they look at this blog. They may see inconsistency, they may see irrelevancy. They may see repetition, or even just plain bad writing. They may see me as shooting myself in the foot if an agent were to swing by. At the end of the day though, what you see when you come to this blog is exactly what the subtitle says. Writing, publishing dreams, and little bits of me. And you know what? That can get messy. My life has been a roller coaster of craziness these last few months. My sister got married, I spent my first Christmas away from my family, and I survived an apocalypse. What a year. No wonder I haven't been around to post something in a while!


All that to say, I'm realizing more and more that I'm not perfect. I've got lots of dreams that I want to see fulfilled, and I've got no shortage of people telling me they can't happen, or at the very least that they won't be happening today. I've got places I want to go, things I want to see, and people I want to meet. So many in fact, that I'm positive that I won't be able to do them all in my lifetime. It would be a very sad life indeed though to have this many dreams and not hold on to at least a few. So you wanna reject me? Bring it on. You wanna tell me I can't do this? Go ahead. I won't stop you. But you know what?

You're not going to stop me either.

The Intimacy of Books

Something I've been thinking about lately is the difference between Theatre and Movies in terms of drama. In theatre, you have to be very expressive, almost to the point of melodrama, because your audience is potentially fifty feet away and straining to hear what you're saying in the first place. With movies, you can be up close and personal, showing every solitary tear sliding down the cheeks of celebrities.

I've been comparing the differences in the way broadway interprets a song in comparison to its movie counterpart, and I must say, it's very interesting to me. Oftentimes I'll like the instrumentation better in the movie version, but I'll like the vocals better in the broadway. I realize it's a rather sweeping statement, but things just seem to be put in much more expressive ways in theatre, because if you aren't over the top, then no one will catch what you're doing. A friend of mine said it this way, you basically have to pretend you're manic-depressive, either at the height of happiness, or in the depths of despair, and be able to switch from one to the other at the drop of a hat (not her exact words, but still).

How might this apply to the medium of books? When I think of theatre, movies, and books, I see them on a scale of intimacy. I see theatre as being the farthest away, movies the next closest, and books as being the most intimate.

Theatre

First off, in theatre you're distanced literally from the audience. Especially if you're in the cheap seats, you're not going to have an easy time catching all the little nuances and exchanges happening on-stage. There's no camera to show you what to look at specifically, and unless they use monologues and/or soliloquies, you don't get any inside glimpses into any one character's head.

Movies

In movies, you're one step closer, because you can see up close and personal how characters react to certain things and the feelings are more easily conveyed. Having said that, actors are put under even more scrutiny when the audience can see everything. In this medium though, it's still hard to get into a character's head without distracting the audience from the story.

Books

In books, you can get right inside the character's head, and indeed, in many cases you never leave. The whole story-world is rooted in one or a few character's perspectives. Rarely do you see objective, unlimited third person POV's anymore (I certainly don't see them). Readers don't really notice when you use interior monologue. It's not distracting at all to hear a character's thoughts on what's going on, and in fact, sometimes it's awkward if we don't get that. What's cool is that in books, authors get to play with so much more than just simply what they thought.


In books, you can write about the feelings of dread welling up like an acid being pumped into someone's stomach. You can talk about a character's whole being going limp as he watches the love of his life walk out on him. Things movies and theatre can't touch. But what does that say about audience expectations?

If in theatre you expect people to go over the top, and for movies to be a bit more down to earth in terms of performance techniques, what does that say about authors? For me, it means that my descriptions have to be bang on. It means that there is very little room for exaggeration and hyperbole when it comes to a character's thoughts and personality. If I'm going for a realistic portrayal of life. I need to know what I'm talking about, and I have to be believable.

When other styles of storytelling go about portraying 'real life' they have a significant advantage in that they can show real life almost instantaneously, and there's often room for exaggeration. They also have visual cues that give the audience instant setting and information on character. Books can do a lot more, for sure, but the question is, are you willing to wait for it? There's such a fine balance between telling what your reader needs to know and telling them what you want to show. The nice thing about novels though, is that you can do it. You can go deep with your protagonist, you can really delve into their psyches, but it takes effort, and it take skill. Something that you have to keep working at all the time.

What style do you prefer? Up close and personal? Or a bit more distant and dramatic? Does it depend on the genre? Share your thoughts!

Raring to go? Or Reluctant to Show?

Some things you need to know how to do before you do it. Like, skydiving. You need to know a little bit about skydiving before you jump out of a plane. 'Figuring it out' probably isn't the greatest idea.

This principle also applies to juggling chainsaws, heart surgery, and wiring a house's electrical system. These things require research, foreknowledge, and practice without having to do the real thing.

Having said that, if all you ever did was research how to skydive, you'd miss out on the whole point of researching... the dive itself!

I think this can also apply to writing. When you write a book, you don't send your first draft of the first seriously written piece of work you ever write. That thing is going to be full of junk 99% of the time. If you don't invest some real time into it, it just isn't going to work.

Getting a book published isn't just something you add to your list of things to do today. It's not for the faint of heart, and it's not for impatient people. I've been noticing this a lot lately.

There's so much practice that goes into this before you do the 'real thing' and go for an agent. I've personally been working seriously on the craft of writing for years. There are thousands of people who have worked much harder and longer than I have who are still unpublished.

I feel like most writers fall into one of two categories. Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems to me like either we are:

A: Raring to go.

or

B: Reluctant to show.

Raring to Go

These are the people who can't wait to get their novel published. They whip out their pens/laptops and write furiously until their nobel prize worthy masterpiece is born. This child, like an infant in a doctor's hands, is handed over to agent after agent in search of someone willing to bring him to adulthood. But no one is willing, 'cause this is one messed up kid.

Often when we're so eager to get something out, we overlook little errors, inconsistencies, or big picture issues. It's our baby after all. Of course it's perfect! What we don't realize is that not everyone sees this child through rose-coloured glasses. We need a healthy dose of reality. We need to wake up and realize that our work may just not be perfect after one draft.

Reluctant to Show

These people have the opposite problem of never taking their writing anywhere but the drawing board. They're convinced it will never be good enough, and that they must do continual edits on it. Before anyone can ever see it, it needs to be perfect. So it stays tucked in a desk drawer, never to be brought out, or sitting in an unmarked folder in the corner of the screen.

We're so afraid of rejection that we'll do anything to put off hearing the truth about our skill level. Yes. You may be average. No, you're probably not the next Tolkein. But you know what? THAT'S OK. No one really wants another author who wrote just like Tolkein. It would get old to have little identical copy cats of famous authors running around. Who would be left to reinvent a genre? Who would be there to make that next B-Level novel to satiate the masses of consumers of normal, run-of-the-mill books?

You may not be as great as you hoped. Oh no. But wouldn't you rather at least know than spend your whole life wondering? Wouldn't that be better?


What we writers need to do is find a happy medium. Somewhere between practicing forever, and never practicing at all. Somewhere between total confidence, and no confidence whatsoever. A place where we are free to make mistakes, but wisely choose to make as few as possible. A place where it's actually possible to get published.

All in all, a place of relative normalcy... whatever that is.


So what are you? Raring to Go? Or Reluctant to Show?

Can you put a price-tag on truth?

How much is the truth worth? What would you sacrifice to have it? What would you give up to share that truth? Would you give up your time? Money? Energy?

What about your job? What about your peace of mind? Would you give up your safety? Or someone else's safety?

How important is it to know the truth?

I guess that really depends on what truth we're talking about doesn't it?

If we're talking about the truth that I currently have ten plane tickets from various flights tacked to my wall, or the truth that as yet unpublished my novel Clone is a little over 75,000 words, you probably don't care too much.

If we're talking about a government conspiracy that's deliberately sabotaging every blonde's education so that they're barred from going to university, you'd probably care quite a bit more. So I suppose these questions are all going to end up being quite relative to each person depending on what truth they have in mind.

But what about just the concept of truth? Not one specific truth, but the idea of it. There are lots of people today who would argue the fact that truth can even exist, they may be reading this post right now. How do you feel about that? Do you want to fight for it? Do you care?

I know I do. It's actually one of the issues I explore in the book I'm seeking to get published. The desire to know the truth, and the desire to share that truth with others for no other reason than to have the truth out there. Simply because it should be. Is that a bad thing? Lots of people in the book think so.

We live in a society where secrets are some of the most valuable things we possess. We guard them with our lives. Hoard them like gems. Our privacy is something so precious to us that we will fight tooth and nail to keep it. I think a lot more people are concerning themselves with making sure the truth will never surface than to see the truth come out. And what has that done for us? Not a whole heck of a lot. It's created an untrusting, closed, distant society where no one really knows anyone else.

In some genres - like mystery - deceit, and veiled truth are the most valuable things of all. The whole point of the book is that you don't know the whole truth. So I guess in some situations we actually take pleasure out of not knowing the truth. After all, who doesn't enjoy a surprise birthday party every once in a while?

Even still, sometimes I really wish that there could be no more secrets. I just wish that the whole truth were always out there 24/7. Things would be a lot simpler. Sincerity would be a real thing again. Survivor would never work.

"Are you in an alliance with Jen?"
"Yep."
"And are you going to vote me out tonight?"
"Yep."
"Well, I'm thoroughly disappointed but not surprised. I'll go pack my stuff."

Oh ya, great suspense. But I digress.

I guess what I'm saying is, I would love for the truth to not just be a moment, or a particular phrase, but a state of being. I think that's what God's will would be for us. to live in complete truth with one another, and in so doing, draw nearer to him. To never keep any hidden sin in our lives, and always confess it openly.

But for so many people that will never happen, because we're fearful. We're scared of what might happen. We like our secrets. We like that no one really knows us because if they did they'd know just how messed up we all are. Does that mean I never have secrets? No. Because I'm not perfect either. I'm just saying it would be a lot easier to be truthful if that was just the norm.

I can only speak for myself, but I know I'd give almost anything to have the truth. The real cold hard truth all the time. Our world would be a much better place if we could just be honest with each other.

I guess the real question is, could we handle the truth all the time?


So what do you think? Truly? How valuable is the truth?

Characters don’t run your story

SO, I realize it’s been forever since I last posted.  Mostly I’d like to say that’s because I’ve been super busy.

Mostly it’s because I’ve been super lazy.

It’s one of the strangest feelings when you say you’ll get back to something once things are normal again, and then you realize your normal is gone. I kept saying once I was back into the swing of things I’d be back into writing, but not going back to school for the first time in my life meant things would not go back to the way they were. That took some getting used to.

ANYWAY.

So over the summer, as those of you who know me will know, (and of course I have a HUGE following of people who don’t know me, so don’t feel left out if you’re part of that group that numbers in the millions, if not dozens of people) I was teaching English at a Quebec summer camp. (I should write another post about how annoying lots of random notes in parentheses can be). I enjoy talking about this camp for a number of reasons. It was a big part of my life for a few months, and I find it easy to pull analogies out of.

This particular analogy is about characters telling the author what to do. Some writers claim that at a certain point, their creations just run amuck, and do whatever they want, and that the author has no control. I will admit that there was a time when I indulged this kind of thinking, but NO MORE. This is really a very nonsensical thought. (And not for the reason all you non-writers out there are thinking). It’s not because your works can’t develop a life of their own, it’s because you as the author should know much better than your creation what’s good for them.

When I was teaching English, there were some things my kids liked to argue about that were just plain wrong.

“BUT SEVEEEEEEEEEN!!! They would wail. “You don’t say ‘I am 12 years old’, it’s ‘I have 12 years old’!!! Everyone knows that!!!” Now, in French, if you were to literally translate what they were saying, they’d be right, because that’s how it’s said in French, but they didn’t fully understand the English version, and so we argued about it. Many of them still don’t believe me. Another day, I was discussing contractions, and when presented with the two options “You’d not”, and “You wouldn’t” 100% of the class voted for the former as the more proper version. Clearly, you don’t let students run the class, and in the same way, you clearly don’t let characters run your story.

So what if Sally wants to jump off the bridge because her stupid werewolf boyfriend dumped her for an X-Men? She’s not gonna kill herself two chapters in! She’s your protagonist! And you know better than she does! You know that in the end she gets to take that werewolf down with a silver bullet to the chest in that awesome Western Showdown you’ve got going on in Chapter 73!

“BUT HER EMOTIONS!!!” You whine.

“SO WHAT?!” I calmly reply. You need to learn to work around her emotions to get her through, otherwise you’ll just end up with garbage in the end. Letting your characters be real is one thing, letting them take over is another thing entirely. Don’t give in to imaginary-peer pressure.

Say ‘No’, to character enabling.

Have you ever heard of authors claiming their characters are running the show? What are your thoughts on this? Is it crazy? Genius? Pitifully psychotic? Let your voice be heard!


*SIDENOTE* - To all my awesome Quebec friends, just so you know, anytime I mention my crazy times with my francophone students I am in no way trying to offend any of you. Just wanna put that out there. I LOVE YOU GUYS!! :P

An update from Quebec

Sorry I didn't post anything last week, I really was going to, but then I was kinda busy with ACTUALLY WRITING MY QUERY LETTERS!! *ahem*. I need to control myself. But seriously! I finally stopped putting it off and just did it which was awesome. I'm waiting for a reply from the agents I sent it to, and am trying to find new ones all the time. Part of me says I should wait and see if any of these agents tell me how I can improve my letter so that I can send a better one to my next batch of agents, and another part of me says the odds of that happening are quite slim so I should just send out what I've got and hope for the best.

While I'm figuring all that out, I thought it might be fun to do a little list of things I like, and things I don't like here in Quebec.


Things I don't like:

1. Being introduced as English (See last post)

2. Humidity. I'm pretty sure this speaks for itself. It's funny how since I got back from Mexico nothing's really seemed hot or humid like it did before, but humidity still sucks. Especially when you're trying to sleep.

3. The fact that I can't stay here for long. This essentially means that as much as I want to make deep connections with friends here, and I want to love all the kids that come to camp, I know that it's going to end all too soon. I've already gone through this a few times, and it's not fun. Have you ever tried explaining to a four-year-old that "No, I probably won't be back next year" and "Well... maybe I'll see you again soon...." It makes you feel awful. I hate doing it. Friends are a little better, but it still sucks to know that the likelihood of seeing them again soon is slim.

4. No piano. No flute. No bassoon. I'm not really sure what I was thinking when I decided "Ummm... the bassoon really is kinda big, and I'd have to pay for extra baggage with it. I'll just leave it in Calgary!" Idiot. I miss playing the piano so much. I don't have any instruments here except my laptop, but c'mon, that's not an instrument that's just a piece of technology that can mimic what an instrument can do. It's just not the same.

5. No public transit. I didn't expect this to be on the list of things I'd miss before leaving Calgary, but I really do miss my alone time. It's not like I don't have any alone time any more, I just have to get it when I can. In Calgary my life was very pleasantly predictable and scheduled. I knew when I'd be alone, when I'd be with friends, when my work was (always the same time), and even where I had my 'wiggle room' spaces. That basically means I had a spot in the schedule for unexpected, or pre-planned unique events that would change from week to week. Here, I kinda just do spur of the moment stuff. "Well, I could  go do that, or maybe I could do that, or..." But this kind of freedom isn't liberating for me. It's immobilizing. Being able to do anything means I do nothing. Weird, I know, but that's kinda just how I work.


Five things I love about being in Quebec

1. I'm finally able to practice my French again. I really do love French as a language, and I love speaking it. It'd be great to be bilingual one day, but I don't imagine that'll happen anytime soon. It's kinda hard to be immersed in a language when you're working at a camp teaching English five days a week.

2. Getting Francophone children to say my name.
"Hi, what's you're name!?"
(child giggles) "insert child name here."
"Oh! Cool, my name's Seth!"
"Set?"

If I'm being nice, I'll say "Yeah, that's good!"
But some days I really just want a good laugh.

"No no, it's SeTH."
"Ooohh. SeTSH." (spit flying everywhere)
"Okay, put your tongue here" (I demonstrate)
(child giggles, then puts tongue where instructed)
"TTTHHH"
"PBTHSHTHPBT" (spit flying again)
"Good! Okay, now SeTTTHHH"
"Se- (a sound that is like a cross between sneezing and drowning... not sure how to represent that with letters.)"
"Perfect!"

Need I say more? This is basically one of the best ways to spend time talking to children I've found. Adults usually just laugh awkwardly and don't try to say it, or say it once, laugh, and then never say it again or stick to Set. They're no fun. :P

3. POUTINE. 'nuff said.

4. The kidlets. I've always loved working with kids, it's really fun, and sometimes rewarding. There have of course been a few kids I would have rather not had to deal with, but there are others who honestly just made me say "Can I adopt you, please? Like, right now?" And then they'd look at me, and say "QUOI??" (What) and then I pick them up and run around with them. It's kinda tiresome to be doing it so week after week, but it's still good. I'd much rather be doing this than mowing lawns or roofing.

5. Chillin' with my sister. I haven't been able to do anything with my older sister for a really long time, so having the summer to just do all kinds of stuff together (mostly watching Heroes and sitting around) is really great.


 So that's my life in Quebec! I hope all my friends and family across the country are doing well. Can't wait to get back to Calgary, but in the meantime, I'll enjoy my time here. It's hard work juggling camp, writing, and down time, but I'll manage. For now, I'll hopefully post again soon, but if I'm not posting, you can basically assume I'm busy doing some other writing duty. Maybe my next entry will be less about my experiences in Quebec and more about writing.... ya, that might be a good idea. :P