I hate reading out loud. I feel like I’m publicly luxuriating in my ability to enunciate fluent English, or showcasing the melodic quality of my voice. Reading to a roomful of people makes me anxious. I buy my 1 and 4 year old nephews books when I visit, which means I must read to them, but I don’t really like it. It makes my mouth tired and I hate when I start to sound nasally. Generally when reading out loud, I feel my persona or whatever vibe I may have at the moment intruding on the text. Reading out loud also makes me feel like I’m showing off how well I can read out loud.
At my author reading on Saturday for my book Mean-Spirited Tales, the words rolled right off, of course, because I know these stories blind. I think I did a fair job of being animated when necessary. It felt like a performance. A lot of people came and there was some interaction. My one good friend was the ring-leader with her laughter and applause. My sister came from Massachusetts — how blessed I am. Fellow blogger Margarita from Serenity in the City came with her husband — what a pleasure it was to meet her! “We actually exist,” I told her. She’s a very attractive woman with a great vibe. I talked to her for a while.
I was overwhelmed in a good way at all of the support that I got. When I got up to read there was screaming and loud applause. The laughter was fun. I often laugh while writing some of my shit, hoping that others will laugh when they read it, but I was surprised even at some of the places where people laughed. I stopped at one point to ask the audience, “That was funny? Okay,” and I laughed along with them.
People called the next day and said they had a good time. Whew! To me it was rather exhausting. Ms. Waiting from The Waiting described doing readings as nerve-wracking — that’s exactly it. I don’t know if I want to do another one. If I do have another reading, maybe I’ll ask someone else to read.
And thanks so much to all of the bloggers who wished me well a couple of days ago. I took all of the well-wishes with me.