Speaking to High Schoolers

It doesn't take much to wing me back into the mental angst of high school. My friend Ed and I spoke today to a group of freshman at Page High School in a creative writing class. We ran into my friend Bernie right after the class and she asked how it went. "They didn't throw anything," was our jubilant reply.

Kidding. We had a great time. The kids loosened up after about 20 minutes (which may or may not have had anything to do with Ed quoting Hemmingway that, "All first drafts are shit."). By the end of class, we had multiple hands in the air as they asked us to describe the high and lows of writing (seeing your name in print / dismal pay), do people every steal our work, and how to turn a paper in on Monday when they can't think of anything to write. (Hint: Don't be a perfectionist. Be willing to put something--anything--down on paper. You can make it pretty later.)

One girl raised her hand and said, "This isn't a writing question, but I have to ask you where you got your necklace." Whoo-hoo! I made the clique! (Seriously, I probably selected my outfit today with more care than I would if attending a formal dinner party. They don't play around in high school...)

There a million bells in high school. There's a five-minute bell, three minute bell, one minute bell, and close your classroom door bell. One kid tried to slip in the door not even 2 seconds after the close the door bell had rung, and the teacher sent him to the office to get a note. I was struck, as I sat in the classroom before class began, how very closed off the room is. Thinking of VA Tech, there truly would be nowhere to hide or run should someone come in the door.

One girl shyly asked me at the end of class if I had any tips for someone who wanted to write an advice column. Oh--they're so young. I just want to hug them all up and make them see how each of them is bursting with potential...

All in all, a good day.

Speaker of the Week

This is a week of speaking engagements for me. Tomorrow morning a fellow writer friend and myself are speaking to a creative writing class at a local high school about what it's like to be "real" writers. We did this last year and it was fun. The first question the kids ask is always, "How much do you make?" That opens the door nicely to the whole, "Being a writer is more about following your passion than it is about money..." speech. I.e., keep studying and aim for med-school, little Johnny.

I'm presenting my "Niche Your Pitch" workshop to a women's business group during a Thursday luncheon, and then I have a 2-hour private client presentation to make immediately following that. Talking, talking, talking...

Have I mentioned I'm taking a writing course? It's "Lessons in Voice" and consists of three Tuesday night classes. Tonight will be our second class. I very much enjoyed the first. It's been awhile since I've been a participant in a writing course and I'd forgotten the joys associated with it. No real reason for taking the course, other than I felt like doing some writing for FUN and not just because I had a deadline attached to it.  Plus, it focuses on fiction writing--a luxury I rarely allow myself anymore.

I'm reluctant to leave today's blog without at least a mention of the tragedy at VA Tech. I didn't even know about it until 5 o'clock yesterday when I finally turned on the TV. Shocking... heartbreaking... isn't there enough violence out there without it coming to what should be a safe and secure environment for young adults on the cusp of their lives?  Just shattering... I'm sure we're in for many more heart wrenching details to come.

Table Topics Speech Contest

Yesterday I participated in the Division B Toastmaster Table Topics (impromptu speaking) competition. Having won, I'll go to Charlotte in 2 weeks for the District (State) Championship, the final level for the Table Topics contest. (The International Speech contest continues on at the national level.)
The trophy I shall now drink my coffee from...

I usually don't get rattled by speaking or competing. It just is what it is and I have enough confidence in my speaking abilities that I know I can manage an answer, if not the winning answer.  But I must admit to feeling butterflies in my stomach when I saw the competition. I knew two of them to be excellent speakers. But we listened to the International Speech Contest first and by the time it was my turn, my nerves had worked themselves out.

The way the contest works is that each contestant is given the same question and then has 1 - 2 1/2 minutes to answer. The other contestants are in a holding room while the people before them speak, so they don't have the advantage of hearing the question ahead of time. By this logic, it really shouldn't matter when you speak, but I still prefer going near the end. There were 5 of us competing and I pulled the first slot--my least favorite.

The question was: "The mayor of your town has decided not to run for re-election. You decide to campaign for mayor. What will be your platform?"

Having gone first, I got to sit in the audience and listen to each contestants answer that followed me.  Everyone nailed it--there wasn't one person there who couldn't have won. Being objective though--and I think I'm pretty good at that--I would have placed me in 3rd place--maybe second. I did not expect to win.

Here's a comment I found fascinating. A young man came up to congratulate me and said, "When I saw you sitting in the audience before you spoke, I thought, 'Oh, she looks fragile. She will probably have a quiet and meek voice and presence.'" He went on to say how surprised he was at my command of the stage.

There are many words people might use to describe me--loud... opinionated... clumsy. But fragile? Not by a long shot. I had to laugh. Interesting that my non-verbals conveyed that to someone though.

I'll try to toughen up for Charlotte. ;)

Bluetooths - Fanny Packs of the Cell Phone World

I'm ready to be assimilated. And by that I mean I think I want a Bluetooth. You've seen them... the God-awful metal phone protrusions hanging from people's ears that make them look like they've been assimilated by the Borg from Star Trek.  I think they're ugly, pretentious, and overused... I must have one.

I was talking to my friend Trisha on my cell this afternoon and trying to type at the same time. I had the 90 degree head lilt going, holding the phone between chin and shoulder and could feel neck spasms building as I did so. I mentioned my desire for the Bluetooth to Trisha.

"Oh my  God," said my oh-so-subtle friend. "Please. Those things are the the fanny pack of the cell phone world."

I see her point. You start off using it for one or two calls at home, vowing never to become one of those people surrounded in an air of self-righteousness as they hold fascinating conversations standing next to you in line at CVS, chatting about what an ass Phil is at the office, how they blew their diet this week, how exciting it was to get their Toyota Hybrid up to 60 mph this weekend, and finally circling back to poor Phil to reiterate yet again what a complete and utter ass he is.  (I don't even know poor Phil and I'm inclined to like him more than the person standing next to me in line, disparaging him.)

I'd start off just using it in the house and then maybe just once in awhile at Panera. For work. Soon I'll be standing in line for more coffee, chatting into thin air about how I'm about to blow my diet with a cookie, car repairs that are coming due soon on the Lexus, and what an ass Trisha is because she thinks Bluetooths are only for fanny-packin' losers.

Beam me up, Scotty.