And Those Bothersome Nerves That Accompanied Me





During a parent-teacher interview at my son’s school, I mentioned to his teacher, the brilliant Mrs. Pells-Chisholm, that I am an author. She asked if I would come into the classroom (grades 7 & 8) to talk to the students and read some of my current book, Juggernaut. I jumped out of my chair and shouted, “Absolutely!” I’ve just begun to fully immerse myself in my career as a full-time Young Adult author (besides the actual work of writing) so this was a fantastic opportunity.



I had a rough idea of what I wanted to talk about: how I became a writer, discuss different types of writing careers, play a quick creative game, read the first chapter of my book (which I thought of as more of a small technicality), and “open the floor to questions.”



Now, I’ve spoken in front of large crowds behind a microphone many times before, so I was thinking, “this is just the same.” Tell that to my brain at 5am the morning of the event. I got the idea at the last minute to bring some of my illustrations and add them to my presentation, so I popped out of bed and went rifling through my basement while trying to figure out where I could tie them in. Then it hit me that I hadn’t even printed my first chapter and prayed to the Gods of Ink that I had enough.



I’m generally far more organized than this. I guess I was just playing it fast and loose in my mind because I didn’t know how they would react, and wanted to be ready to steer things in another direction in case they decided to mutiny. I remember being that age very clearly, often bored to tears when we had a guest speaker, so I didn’t want to do that to them; I wanted them to be entertained and intrigued.



Mrs. P-C introduced me. I talked about how I came to be an author and an illustrator, all the while thinking, “Who wants to hear about my life? They’re probably bored already,” which I wasn’t expecting to feel. I realized I was nervously rambling so I changed the subject and started to discuss ‘a day in the life’ of an author, and the versatility and fun that accompanies a writing career. Mrs. P-C asked the class questions and got them more involved in the conversation, which really helped, and for which I am eternally grateful. They also asked questions about my paintings, which I had almost forgotten about, so that was pretty cool too.



I read them some funny examples of #addawordruinamovie (which you can find on Twitter), to get them feeling creative and thinking outside the box. They laughed at most of them, but were probably thinking, “What does this have to do with anything?” so I was like, “Okay, moving on” and mentally crossed that off my list for the next school talk.



I explained a little about how my book, Juggernaut, was born, and read the first chapter.



Admittedly the chapter is a bit on the long side, which I’ve also heard from my critique group. I read and read, not looking at anyone, and as I cross the halfway mark, I panicked, and thought, “Oh gawd! They must be so bored! Maybe I should stop! Maybe I should speed up and finish quicker so they don’t hate me!” so I picked up the pace and practically raced to the end.



And then you know what happened? They clapped madly!



They didn’t just clap to be polite. I mean, they really liked it! And they had a pile of questions, and comments about the characters and the story and were wondering when the book was coming out because they really wanted to read more. And I was blown away! The part of the presentation that I was the most concerned about while I was presenting was the part that they loved the most. My son’s friend, Layne, later told me: “Usually they get bored when we read out loud, but everyone was really paying attention. That never happens.” That, in itself, is the best compliment I could receive.



When my son got home from school that day, he had some fantastic critique for me for next time, which was really helpful and sweet. He said I needed to speak louder. He said I seemed a bit unorganized (which I was). He told me that I said, “um” and “so” a lot. I asked him if he was proud at any point, and he said, “Yes. I was really proud of your writing.”



I know that with practice I will develop an ease and a routine, but I’ll always consider this first class presentation to be the most important one because I’ve learned so much from it. I’ve tested the waters and discovered what works well, what to skip, what to add, how loud I need to be, what to expect, and where to make room for Q & A. It was a great experience and a great experiment. The teachers were amazing, the class was fantastic, and despite my own misplaced nervousness, I couldn’t have asked for a better group to read for and interact with.



Most of all, I’ve learned that the most important part – the writing – was the best part of the presentation for them. And with that I claim my confidence. I guess I am doing something right after all.

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