public speaking – Writing Across Genres

A recent Suzie Speaks blog discussed being an “extroverted introvert” and how that plays out in her life. The question of those polarities is something I think about all the time.

Picking an identity

I’d describe myself as the opposite of Suzie: an introverted extrovert. Though most people I know would say I’m extroverted because I do so much public speaking as an author (26 books and counting). I’ve done readings in more than one language and spoken about my work hundreds of times on three different continents, from Oxford University to The Library of Congress in D.C. to the Jewish Museum in Berlin. Interacting with an audience is exciting and fun for me, and so is teaching in a classroom, which I’ve done on and off for many years. That’s like writing, directing, and acting in a play.

Looking for an oasis

But I also crave my privacy and need down time after “performing.” After a few hours of teaching, all I want is quiet, a glass of wine, and some calming music or streaming a no-brains movie. It’s even more crucial for me to chill out alone when I’m on a book tour. It’s way too easy for me to feel drained after spending so much time interacting with people because I have to be 100% present. A book tour or any kind of invited speaking gig involves constant talking with whoever picks you up at the train station or airport, with cab drivers, with your dinner companion, with fans. Especially with fans since it’s important for me to do Q&A at my appearances. Conferences where I do workshops are the same: I love what I do but I need to wind down afterwards ASAP.

Being an artist

The zigzag between introversion and extroversion has a deeper layer for me. Years ago I read psychologist Otto Rank’s Art and Artist and he wisely noted that artists of all kinds need experience and stimulation to create, so they have to go out into the world. But as Wordsworth wrote, the world can be “too much with us,” and so in Rank’s view, creation requires retreating from the world for us to have the necessary time and energy for contemplation and reflection. Rank saw the artist as in a perpetual battle act between public life and private life, and it sometimes does seem that way. I’ll be happy to go to concert, but wish I were home–or I’ll be working on a book and want to go somewhere, anywhere out in the world.

Marriage changed me

Years ago, I was the kind of person who people were glad to have at a party. I enjoyed dancing, mingling, meeting new people. As an extrovert, I could chat with anyone. More than that, I loved throwing parties myself, organizing it all, inviting a cool mix of friends and acquaintances and keeping the whole thing going by just being on the entire evening. Then I married an introvert who spoke only when it seemed necessary, and our long years together have definitely made me more introverted. I prefer lunching with only person now, not a group, and would rather have just one couple over for brunch than do a dinner party–or any kind of party.

Living more quietly

I grew up in crowded, noisy New York City where it seemed like I was always surrounded by people and endless commotion. But for several decades now I’ve been living in a suburb where the noise you hear is dogs barking, the chatter of birds waking up in the morning, kids laughing and biking, and the hoot of a distant train at night. It’s something of an idyll for me, which is why I don’t apply to go to writers’ retreats: I have one. Even though there are three main roads nearby, my house is at the center of the subdivision and we can’t hear any of that traffic. It takes a lot to convince me to leave my retreat now, and I sometimes have to brace myself and get focused beforehand. As much as I enjoy being with friends or traveling abroad, home is often my favorite place to be. I guess when it comes down to it, I’m probably more of an ambivert–and yes, that’s a thing. 🙂

So how about you? Are you an introvert, an extrovert, an ambivert? What’s it like navigating your world?

Lev Raphael teaches creative writing online in on-on-one workshops at writewithoutborders.com. His books range across genres from memoir to mystery. You can check them out at levraphael.com.

Readings make a lot of writers nervous. After all, we spend most of our time alone, well, alone with the voices in our head, anyway.

So you can understand that for some of us, when we get invited to speak about our work and read from it at a book store or library or college, we goof. We don’t choose the right excerpt, we don’t take the time to plan our remarks, we don’t practice our reading.

But the most egregious thing I’ve seen authors do is sabotage their own readings without any idea they’re doing it. What do I mean?

Some authors will feel their best chance of establishing a bond with their audience is to start with something like, “On the way over here, I was going over about what I planned to say” or “When I was invited here today, I was wondering what you might want to hear” or even “I haven’t tried it before, but I’m pretty sure this part of the book might work.”

Taking people “behind the scenes” in those ways can come across as way too informal. It’s also inappropriate. The audience doesn’t need to hear about how you put your talk and reading together or hear you share your doubts. This isn’t a workshop about doing an event–this is the event itself. There’s really no need to start with any kind of “process preamble.”

Then there are the authors trying way too hard to be funny. Of course, jokes or cute anecdotes are fine, but keep them short–if you go that route at all. Your work is what you’re there to represent, not your dazzling comedic personality. Because remember at the end of the day, you’re still a writer, not Chris Rock or a talk show host whose meanderings are part of the act. Nobody invited you for your shtik.

Some authors nervously mark time. Sharing a stage with other authors they’ll mistakenly comment, “Well, it’s been a long night, and–” Yes it has, but keep that to yourself and pretend everyone just got there. Or, “As the middle author of five tonight, I think I should be the one to boost your energy in case it’s flagging…” No you shouldn’t. What if people weren’t tired until you said it? And if they were, your bringing it up isn’t likely to make them feel better. Or, “I’m going to keep this short.” Whoa! That’ll make the audience start looking at watches rather than you.

Don’t ever take your audience behind the scenes. You need to play your part in a solo or group event without calling attention to the performance in any way–and that’s exactly what it is, a performance in front of an audience. What you need to exemplify is the Italian sprezzatura: the art that conceals all art. Do you want to come across as polished, or do you want to possibly come across as uncertain and even bumbling?

Getting things right takes a lot of time and effort. It also takes thinking through every aspect of the event, from the nature of your audience to your goals to your own role as, like it or not, the star–or at least co-star. The audience deserves it, whether you’re speaking to 5 or 500.

Lev Raphael has done hundreds of invited talks and readings on three different continents–and in more than one language. He’s the author of 25 books in genres from memoir to mystery and you can find them on Amazon.