Candidates as Characters

The first debate between the presidential candidates is over.  I watched it last night and heard nothing new from the information I had already read or heard about their positions.  However, as I listened, I began to think about politics in 2048, and what conditions led up to my choice of creating a future American dystopia.  Not much has changed. 

Then I began watching as if watching a scene playing out in a movie or play or one I’d been reading.  By stepping back to gain objectivity, as if I would need to describe the scene or answer questions about it on a test, I noticed immediately the difference between McCain’s and Obama’s demeanors, their body language.  This physical aspect supported what each was saying, I thought, but also revealed character.  Just like it would in a movie or novel.

 Obama moved around more, it seemed, acted relaxed, loose, open.  He turned his head and looked at McCain while McCain talked.  He addressed him directly, to engage him in a direct discussion.  He acknowledged McCain’s contributions and knowledge in a stance of openness, i.e. his arms were either at his side or were open as he held onto the podium. 

McCain moved little once he was standing behind his podium.  His body had the tension of anger in his stance.  He never turned his head to look at Obama.  He never addressed him directly but referred to him as if Obama wasn’t even there.  When he spoke of Obama, it was to emphasize his inexperience and “naivete.”  While he didn’t cross is arms (a closed stance), he focused on the moderator, his body turned slightly away from Obama.

One of the issues they discussed was whether or not to engage Iran in face-to-face talks.  Consistent with their body language, Obama was open to it, but McCain was not because he said it gave Iran’s leader legitimacy.  Huh.  I thought Iran’s president was elected, which usually means, in the past anyway, that he’s a legitimate leader (of course, the election’s legitimacy could be debated, I guess).  Obama commented that Iran’s president was not the most powerful leader in that country, an astute comment.  McCain just smiled.  I thought the smile was unreadable — knowing, encouraging, snide, condescending, patient, happy?  Who knows.

At any rate, during this Iran discussion, I suddenly realized that the way McCain was responding to Obama (an adversary) was probably the way he’d respond to anyone he didn’t like and with whom he disagreed, i.e. for example, the leader of Iran.  Hardly statesmanlike or diplomatic.  Presidents often must deal with the leaders of other countries they might not like or agree with, for example, France, and as statesmen, diplomatically.  The French are our allies and have been for years, but because they challenged Bush regarding invading Iraq, suddenly French fries became Freedom fries (and I never heard what a French kiss became).  Did Bush snub President Chirac at any of the G-8 meetings?  I don’t think so.   

In the Perceval novels, I occasionally wander into scenes with politicians.  I consider what I witnessed last night to be ninety-seven minutes of research….

Inspiration Doesn’t Wait for You

The writing process.  Those three words mean different things to different writers.  And yet, it’s the one thing non-writers and writers alike want to know about, i.e. what is it?  How does it happen?  Is there a standard way to do it?  How do I get ideas?  How do I lure inspiration into my life?  Am I doing it right?

First of all, the writing process is exactly that: the process of writing something, be it fiction, non-fiction, poetry, a play or screenplay, a speech, etc.  There’s nothing mysterious about it.  The process involves desire and openness to begin: the desire to write and an openness to the world and people.  Curiosity about everything also helps, because inspiration waits for no one.  Live life to the fullest, read widely, travel, follow interests, meet people, listen to dreams.  Be curious and interested with everything outside the self. 

The writing process happens when an individual decides to write something.  There is no standard way to proceed and complete the process which is as individual as each person doing it.  Ideas are everywhere.  Curiosity about the world and people is essential.  Having written that, I realize that ideas also tend to find the person they are most suitable for, like a cat finds the person most allergic to her.  Not that any writer could develop an allergy to ideas….  Inspiration waits for no one, so it’s important to be open to it.  Inspiration is really just an idea finding the right person and making her sneeze.  There is no right way to do it, either.  But like narrative structure, there’s a beginning, middle and end.

In the beginning of the short story I’m currently working on, I had an experience that involved a disease and a treatment for that disease, specifically an ultraviolet light chamber.  This experience reminded me of the line “Beam me up, Scotty!” in the original Star Trek series.  That thought made me smile and hung around for weeks in my mind, just sitting there, swinging its feet, waiting.  That is, waiting for an idea.  I have no clue how my imagination takes in experiences on all levels and then slips out the thing that nags at my mind, in this case, it was the idea of fish scales.  Then one day, I saw in my mind a sentient being that resembled more a Komodo dragon than a human and I…sneezed.  Inspiration had caressed my nose.  That Komodo sentient being was a character with low self-esteem and it had a story.

From there, Komodo has been slowly opening up and sharing its story with me.  I ask what gender it is, and receive no answer, so I’m beginning to think its sexuality either is extremely different from human understanding or isn’t important in the story.  Ditto with a name.  But I know what Komodo wants, what some of the obstacles are to getting it, and….  I don’t know anymore.  At this point, I haven’t begun writing down the story.  First, what I generally do is write notes which develop into a sketch of an outline, usually 3 sentences to 3 paragraphs: Komodo wants such and such; a list of obstacles and conflicts; then a possible ending.  At this point in the process, nothing is written in stone for me.  I want to be completely open to the story evolving organically according to the needs and actions of Komodo.

After time has passed — days, weeks, or months — I begin to feel really restless, on edge, and full, like maybe I shouldn’t have had that second helping at dinner.  I also feel that I really want to write down Komodo’s story and see what happens with it.  As I write, whether longhand or on the computer, seeing the words flow triggers more words, more ideas.  Sometimes, a story comes out all at once — quite a fortunate experience!  Most of the times, it comes out in spurts, with a lot of thinking going on between them.  Once I have a first draft down on paper, I will put the story away for a minimum of a week to ferment.  When I return to it, I revise to tighten it, sharpen the language and images, check for narrative holes, make sure Komodo changed over the course of the story.  Revising is finding the right word, the right image or detail, being specific in language.  One revision is never enough.  And Inspiration continues to flow into the story with each revision. 

Finally, the end.  The story is done.  I will put it away again for a minimum of one week.  Then I might ask people I trust to give me constructive feedback after reading the story…or not, depending on what I think the story needs.  I might put it away for months and work on something else.  Or I might research markets, i.e. magazines or literary journals, in order to submit it.  Sometimes more revisions happen after several rejections.  Sometimes an editor loves the story and wants to publish it. 

And that’s a sketchy outline of the writing process….no standard, right or easy way about it.

Sticks and Drones: Conductor Blog

As I’ve done additional research about conductors and their lives, I’d hoped that I’d find more of them on the internet, i.e. with their own websites and/or blogs.  What was I thinking?  When would a conductor have the time to launch a website and update it on a regular basis?  When would a conductor have time to blog?  Conductors are incredibly busy people, and some are more tech-literate than others.   

There are websites of individual conductors.  Most are simply static statements of the conductor’s bio, conducting schedule, PR photos, contact information, repertoire, professional affiliations, etc.  I know of only one that has had a blog — Giancarlo Guerrero’s.  I haven’t visited his site recently — he’s now the music director designate for the Nashville Symphony Orchestra and I’d be surprised if he continued his blog, although he wrote posts only about once a month.

To my surprise, I recently stumbled onto Adaptistration.com which has an interesting blog written by two conductors, Bill Eddins and Ron Spigelman.  I’ve added it to my blogroll: “Conductors blog.”  Their posts range over music, politics, teaching, audiences, among other subjects.  And by having two conductors writing, it lightens the load for each of them to post often.  I plan to visit this blog regularly. 

Sarah Hatsuko Hicks, Assistant Conductor with the Minnesota Orchestra, posts at “Inside the Classics” on a wide range of topics related to conducting and classical music, audiences and the life of a conductor.  I’ve found her posts to be interesting and informative, and several have helped me in my research. 

When I first began this blog, I was thinking of giving Evan Quinn his own blog, too.  It forced me to think about his attitude toward technology 40 years in the future, and about what his life is like, how he’d choose to spend his free time.  Evan is a low tech kind of guy.  He spends little time on the internet and his e-mailbox is chronically full.  He’s also not in to gadgets.  So, I realized that writing a blog would be grossly out of character for him.  I was relieved, too, because I would have had to write it for him…. 

As much as I still wish I had a “conductor buddy” in my life with whom I could brainstorm ideas or ask questions, I’m finding these conductor blogs an interesting and helpful substitute.  For anyone curious about conductors and what’s on their minds, these blogs are must-reads.

Only Beating Time? A Gentle Guide to Classical Music Concerts

September brings the beginning of a new school year as well as the opening concerts to the Minnesota Orchestra’s new season.  And it has been about a year since I began writing this blog for the Perceval novels and Evan Quinn.  I was trying to remember this week the first time I ever saw a conductor on a podium.  I suspect it was a community band concert at a summer ice cream social in my hometown.  As children do, I imitated the conductor and thought he was a rather funny guy, his back to us, waving his arms around.  At times, I understood he controlled the music, how loud or soft, how fast or slow, but didn’t pay much attention beyond that. 

In elementary school, I experienced conductors as a performer in both the choir and school orchestra.  And I also watched Leonard Bernstein’s Young People’s Concerts on television.  I don’t know if it was my experience as a performer or not, but I’ve never been one of those fidgety, coughing, snoring audience members who applaud at the end of every movement in a symphony.  I sit as still as possible, breathe quietly and concentrate on the music.  I don’t consider myself an “elitist” either, simply someone who loves to attend live concerts.  For a hilarious take on how to be a concert snob, please check out Sam Bergman’s “How to be an Elitist Snob in 20 Easy Steps” at http://www.adaptistration.com/adaptistration/2005/05/tafto-contrib-7.html.  As a violist in the Minnesota Orchestra and long-time musician, he definitely speaks from the experience of a performer….

For a gentle guide to watching a conductor at work:

You’ve arrived with hundreds of other people (it’s a “good house”) at a concert hall to attend a symphony orchestra concert.  The people around you wear suits or sport jackets, dresses with diamonds or a casual pantsuit.  Open your concert program and find the section that encourages the audience to turn off all cell phones and pagers (please, please do this!) and that taking photographs is forbidden (please respect this!).  If you tend to cough or have a cold, the ushers can help you with cough drops, or bring your own.  If you do cough during the music, please cover your mouth with a handkerchief (or cough into your arm) to muffle the sound.  In most concert halls, the acoustics are extremely sensitive and a barrage of coughing is not appropriate accompaniment for the orchestra, especially during the really quiet parts.

The musicians begin to come onstage to take their seats.  They wear formal black attire, continue their warm-up on their instruments or wait quietly, watching the audience (yes, you!).  Three minutes or so before the concert is scheduled to begin, the concertmaster walks onstage.  Greet him/her with polite applause.  The concertmaster by tradition “tunes” the orchestra to the principal oboe’s “A” and takes his/her seat at the front of the first violin section.

When the stage door opens again, the conductor walks onstage.  Pay attention to his demeanor and pace, how the musicians react to him.  A purposeful walk, confident and relaxed manner, whether or not he smiles, signals a conductor in control and the concert will go well.  Usually.  (I love it when a conductor behaves as if he can’t wait to get to the podium to share the music with the audience and runs onstage.)  The musicians should be relaxed, attentive and respectful.  No fidgeting, frowns or glares, please.  The conductor will bow and smile to the welcoming applause, and gesture to the orchestra to include them in the applause.  He’ll shake hands with the concertmaster before stepping onto the podium, his back to the audience.

If a conductor stands for a moment before raising his arms, he’s preparing for the downbeat, waiting for the audience (you) to quiet down, for the musicians to focus on him (usually they already are) or focusing his concentration.  When he raises his arms, the musicians ready their instruments.  The conductor drops his right hand holding the baton — the downbeat — and from this moment until the music’s end, he is responsible for keeping the orchestra together.

His right hand keeps the beat and tempo, his left hand signals changes, phrasing, dynamics and any necessary cues for the musicians.  Musicians know also to watch his face for cues and encouragement, shoulders for the beat, and so on.  Each conductor has his own unique way of expressing the basic vocabulary of gestures conductors use to communicate to the musicians during the concert that he’s learned and practiced and perfected over years of experience.  Clarity and consistency are essential for this body language to be effective.  A conductor’s gestures will reflect what the composer wrote in the score.  Watch his hands and listen to the sound that follows.  What did he do to make the music louder or slow the tempo?  At the end, his right hand, often with the left hand, will “cut off” the music.  It will be clear, whether it’s a downward slice of the baton or a small circle traced by the baton’s tip.

Conductors also move on the podium, although I’ve seen a few conductors who stand and only move their hands and arms, and use their faces to communicate.  This stillness tends to intensify the attention on their hands.  But for the audience, it’s not quite as much fun to watch.  Does the conductor lean down to the first violins for emphasis?  Has he lowered himself to a half-crouch to decrease the volume?  Movements like these can signal emphasis, guide the audience through the music, and is part of the “showman” aspect of conducting.  These movements are like a living, physical representation of the music.  The wise and experienced conductor moves as he’s comfortable doing in the service of the music and his orchestra, however, not to call attention to himself. 

When the music is completely finished — at the end of each section or movement, the conductor remains facing the orchestra and the audience needs to wait quietly for the next section — the conductor puts down his baton.  Simple.  But wait for the conductor, especially after an especially emotional piece of music, like the Verdi Requiem, before expressing your appreciation with applause.  Sometimes, the silence after the cut-off is part of the music….  The conductor turns to the audience and bows, steps down from the podium and shakes the concertmaster’s hand, waves for the orchestra to stand and bow with him to receive your applause.  He then exits the stage.

For more detailed and specific descriptions of conducting technique, I’d recommend Max Rudolf’s The Grammar of Conducting which covers how to beat different meters to controlling dynamics or tempo to rehearsal techniques.  Knowing what a conductor does and why opens wider the window to understanding and enjoying the music and concert experience.