Dispirited

I’ve been feeling more than a little bit dispirited lately. And most of it boils down to a yearning for words. I’m lacking words with sufficient power and strength to combat inane corporate decisions that cause my husband sleepless nights. And how do I find the words to console my friend whose daughter just delivered a stillborn baby? What words express the feelings of isolation, disregard, and invisibility that creep up in new situations...or worse, familiar ones? And, on a happier note, where are the words to describe the radiance and purity of our teenage daughter, dressed in layers of silky cream for her Junior Prom? This applies to my fiction as well as my life. When it comes down to the crucial moments, what I most often lack is the essential words. 

I have a very close friend who has a rare gift for words, wields their power with both discretion and ferocity, and is pitch-perfect in her ability to select just the right descriptors, evoking stunning imagery. Her name is Luisa Perkins.

A few years ago I received her cookbook, Comfortably Yum, as a thank-you prize for coming up with the winning title. When the book arrived (as I described in this post, and again in this post) I sat down and read it from cover to cover. This was a cookbook, mind you. Not fiction. Yet I could. not. put. it. down. I devoured it. And that was before I’d even tried a single recipe. :) Now it's so well-loved and food-worn I'll soon have to replace it.

Not long afterward—almost exactly two years ago—Luisa sent me the first three chapters of a manuscript she was working on. I gobbled her words down insatiably, then printed them out and carried them around for weeks, hoping my hardcopy would spontaneously generate the rest of the story. (It didn’t.) 

This book has perhaps the most unique and original premise I have ever encountered. Here is the breathtaking idea which first captured my interest: 

A young boy figures out how to take “out-of-body experience” to a whole new level, and drifts away from his home and his body to go in search of his departed mother. 

Once I finally got my hands on a copy of the entire novel, I was completely blown away. It was so riveting, I couldn’t inhale it fast enough. And yet there are so many rich layers, I wanted to savor it s l o w l y, pondering the mysteries of the universe as they unfolded before my eyes.

The book asks a universal, yet never-addressed-like-this question: What could happen if I chose to leave my body unattended? Even for a brief moment? And it offers in exchange for your time the most harrowing of answers...and a spellbinding journey of thought-provoking insights and first-rate entertainment.

It’s all at once a cautionary tale, a mysterious romp through time and place, a ghost story, a romance, a spiritual thriller, a paean to family history, a dark look into the way evil operates, and bar none the most terrifying book I have ever read. I didn’t think I was a fan of the horror genre, but this is mind-bending, electrifying, and life-altering. Dare I say uplifting? Definitely a must-read.

I've since heard her read the first chapter aloud, and the effect was spellbinding. She literally left the audience craving more. (Just like I imagine the effects of her cooking!)

Luisa writes “dark, speculative fiction,” (which is Luisaspeak for scary, mind-bending and life-changing otherworldly novels). This book is technically slated as a YA novel. But it’s every bit as much for grown-ups as teens.

On my Goodreads review I urged young children and the "faint of heart" to proceed with caution. Here’s why: One chapter takes you inside the mind of a truly evil character. This is, to say the least, disturbing. But Luisa’s words take you there with great restraint. She spares you what could be gory, graphic, or sensationalized, but shows you the intent. The result is creepy with a capital C. But it doesn’t leave you feeling like you need to take a shower. 

Oh, and the title? Dispirited. I’m very proud of that word. It’s one of many title ideas I gave her. One of my attempts to capture the essence of her 88,000 words. In a single word. Dispirited.

Now, I have great news! News that is already lifting my spirits. Although Luisa resides in New York, she will be in Utah the first week of May and will be signing copies of Dispirited at The King’s English bookstore at 7pm on May 4. I will be there. I will be purchasing her book and begging her to autograph it for me. I’ll also be buying some as gifts and asking her to sign those as well. And I’ll be looking for YOU! I hope to see you there. If you leave me a comment here saying you’ll be at the booksigning, I’ll personally purchase a copy of Dispirited there for one lucky reader. Just leave me your name to be entered in the drawing. Must be present to win.

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And now, the results of our last drawing: 

Pretty Darn Funny pins go to Becca, Dedee and Luisa. 

And the winner of the original painting from Tell Me Who I Am is...a brand-new reader, Donna! I'll be sending you a signed original watercolor, Painting #3, as soon as you claim your prize and send me your mailing address. Congratulations! (And thank you, everyone, for you kind raves about the artwork! I assure you the words are just as good! DeNae has an unbeatable Mother's Day promotion package going on right now for Tell Me Who I Am. She's another friend with an inimitable way with words...witty and hilarious. Do stop by!)


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And finally, many thanks to Heather of the EO for hosting another Just Write and for the writing prompt: Words. Love!

On Piano, Performance Anxiety, (Im)Perfection, and a Pattern...PLUS the big announcement! (Not Pregnancy) :)

On Piano, Performance, Perfection and a Pattern

I experienced my first performance anxiety when I was in junior high. I was playing the piano in a recital at our church. I had practiced for weeks and perfected the piece, I thought. Then suddenly I sat at the piano on that big stage, in front of that big audience, and I panicked. I got halfway through the song and my mind went blank and the notes on the page turned to an indecipherable blur. In slow-motion agony that felt like reliving my worst nightmare, I fumbled, stopped, and started over. I got to the same point and couldn’t find my way out of the abyss and just jumped to the next section and finished the piece.

I remember the mortification I felt to this day: Unable to face anyone in the audience, I slipped out the side exit, rushed down the hall and out the door and walked all the way home.  The house was locked, so I climbed through my bedroom window and hid in my room, for hours. I could not bear the thought of making such a colossal mistake in front of so many people.

In the meantime my family had no idea where I’d gone. They had been looking for me everywhere, and started to worry I’d been kidnapped. My family eventually realized I was home, and all was well. But this experience marked the beginning of a longstanding pattern of piano performance anxiety that has been, at times, crippling for me: 

I practice. I perfect. I perform. I panic. I make mistakes. I can’t recover. I am mortified. I want to quit. Or disappear. 

Ironically, during that miserable performance, my mother discovered I had a germ of talent as a pianist. She didn’t focus on the mistakes. She focused on the potential. A day or two later, after most of the sting had worn off, she told me I had played very musically, with beautiful technique and great expression, and was ready to audition for the big leagues. She took me to play for two of her former teachers, including a wonderful retired concert pianist from New York named Becky Almond.

Here emerges a new phase in the pattern, which I didn’t recognize until years later: I practice. I perfect. I perform. I panic. I make mistakes. I can’t recover. I am mortified. Some surprising and unbelievable good results from this painful process.

Because I thought so highly of Miss Almond, I practiced even harder than before. Miss Almond also helped a little with my performance anxiety, teaching me how to perfect a piece phrase by phrase, making sure I could play each section “six times -- perfect” before I went on. If I made a mistake after #4, I had to start over until I got six in a row. For some reason six was the magic number. I eventually had to play the whole piece “six times -- perfect.” At that point, you can almost play it on auto-pilot. You practice exactness.

She also taught me not to wince or make a big scene, if I did make a mistake. She said everybody — even concert pianists — make mistakes, but they know how to recover and keep going. They don’t get rattled; they maintain their dignity. You practice honor.

Another performance, years later, completely altered my perspective: 

In college I was asked to play for my cousin’s missionary farewell. We were close, and I approached the assignment prayerfully, selecting what I thought was the most beautiful music imaginable, a piano transcription of Faure’s Pavane. My mom wrote a flute obbligato for my younger sister. The addition of the flute made me slightly less nervous. A new-and-improved pattern emerged. I was well prepared. I prayed. I performed. It wasn’t perfect. But I played my heart out. Then something happened that still drops my jaw whenever I think about it.

There was a little reception after the meeting, and while we were all milling about, a man I’d never seen before approached me. He looked a bit ragged, and I’m ashamed to admit I wasn’t sure what to think of this stranger at first. But he spoke a sentence that taught me the power of music and changed my life. He said, and I swear these are his exact words, “I was contemplating suicide, and your music gave me the will to live.”

That was one of those moments where the world stops. Freeze-frame. And then everything adjusts to surround this new paradigm.

I realized that my perfectionism was getting in the way of my performance. That genuine expression can eclipse a few false notes. And that acknowledging my imperfections is not the same thing as embracing mediocrity. It’s humbling. And pushes me to try harder each time, hoping.  

Today I had to accompany the church choir for our Thanksgiving program. The pieces were difficult...Rutter. I practiced. Every day. For weeks. Starting slowly. Working out the difficult passages. Counting the ledger lines. Gradually speeding things up. With a metronome. Eventually I had both pieces seamless and up to tempo.

But there’s that darn performancy anxiety again. Literally anything could happen if I panic. I pray. I’m prepared. I perform. It’s not perfect. It’s never perfect. I make mistakes. Every single time. But I recover. I play my heart out. And I hope somebody who needs to hear it is listening. 

I’ve decided this new-and-improved pattern is a lot like life: I’m not perfect. Not even close. I keep making mistakes, no matter how hard I try. But like Peter, if I panic, I sink. I pray. I recover. I live my heart out. And I hope I manage to reach someone who needs me. Then watch for some unexpected good to happen.

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And now for the big announcement:
First...the winner of Luisa Perkins’ wonderful cookbook, Comfortably Yum, is The Mom, from Outnumbered. I just know you’ll love this—I could tell from your comment that it’s a perfect fit.

Now...I loved your gift lists, especially the ones who took the time to type out something extra thoughtful. Thank you. I really do wish I could give ten books to every single one of you. But Random.org chose only one. So finally, the winner of a copy of What Think Ye of Christmas for every person on your gift list goes to: Happy Mom, from Hunyville Happenings. When her smile first showed up on my list of followers it made my whole day. She has a wedding going on over there, and I’m guessing this gift will relieve some stress. Congratulations!

Winners: Don't forget to send me your mailing addresses. And acceptance speeches are always welcome.

Note to the rest of you: Be not dismayed. You can order the book on my website, and still get a killer deal! If you order ten or more, the quantity discount lets you steal these books at less than $8 apiece. On top of that, if you enter the discount code CHARRETTE you get an additional 5% off your entire order, reserved only for my blog friends. So go crazy!

Also, there's another giveaway going on right this very minute from Steph over at Diapers and Divinity. I always love her sense of mission, and am excited to see what she has to say today.

Oh, if only there were a better word than WINNER...

I have exactly six winners to announce here today. But, even as I type this, I'm suddenly not crazy about the word "winner". Alternatively, "prize-taker-homer" doesn't sound very sharp or official, or even literate. I think I prefer the way the Oscars® do it, acknowledging in advance that they are all, each of them winners, but the prize ultimately can only go to one person. --Oh, wait, and since this is about Christmas, we'll call them gifts:
First, a used copy of the original 1978 book PLUS a copy of my new edition, as mentioned in this post, goes to: (I'm opening the envelope, but not wearing a glitter gown) my new friend Shari, of Think, Dream, Inspire.

Second, a set of six notecards from the book PLUS a copy of the book, as mentioned in this post, goes to my friend Kate, of Walking Kateastrophe fame. (Rumor has it she tripped on the red carpet on her way in tonight!)

On Day 3 I offered two books instead of one — one to each of two lucky commenters — to commemorate the two paintings a day I mentioned in this post. The two books go to my friend LisAway, of Away From It All (please just tell me I don't have to ship the book to Poland!) and my friend Heather, from...um, around the corner from my house? :)

Next, we have another set of six notecards AND a copy of the book, as mentioned in this post, all of which go to: (drum roll please) my friend Rachel, of Shoes—and Ships—and Sealing-wax.

And now the moment we've all been waiting for: The art print (giclée) and one copy of the book as announced on this post (no, don't start the music — I haven't announced the winner, er, um recipient yet!) The art print (giclée) and one copy of the book go to my friend Mary Ellen, whose blog is private.

Even though the awards were selected by random.org, I'm quite pleased with its selection of winners, all people I know and love. You celebs have until Sunday night (Nov. 21) at midnight to claim your gifts (by emailing me your mailing address and your card/art selection, if applicable). Any gift not claimed will be tossed into another drawing and a new prize-taker-homer announced on Monday, the 22nd.

More good news? Well, I have one more giveaway left, here. A big one. A book for everyone on your Christmas gift list (up to ten). Just leave your list in the comments. I also have book reviews and giveaways scheduled to appear on some of my favorite blogs from now until Christmas, so check back often. In fact, right this minute there's a giveaway up at One Wild and Precious Life by my friend Jessica, in Ohio. She and I started blogging within days of each other, never having met, but with a similar sense of mission. It only took the universe a few short weeks to make our worlds collide. (Thank you, Heather of the EO.) Total kindred spirits. You can read what she has to say about the book (and maybe win a copy) here.

Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments, your interest in my book and my art, and your friendship, which means the world to me! I'd also like to thank my— *static white noise*

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Please leave congratulations and acceptance speeches below. I promise I won't cut you off after 30 seconds!