LEIGH STEIN • How to Read in Public

How to Read in Public

This is in response to Molly Templeton’s call for How-To articles by women.

Today is Monday, July 30, 2012, and so far this year I have done 37 public readings, in 14 cities around the country. I have read with poets and novelists, journalists and editors, students and retirees. I have read with humble geniuses and arrogant crazy people. Before I get into the nitty gritty of how to read your work aloud to strangers, allow me to tell you the story of a poetry reading I will never forget.

I was one of four readers. I went first, presumably because I was the youngest and I didn’t have a book published. The host introduced me: “This is Leigh Stein. I haven’t read her work, but I’m sure it’s great.” (How to Host a Reading Series would be a whole other column, but hot tip: don’t ever introduce a writer by saying you haven’t read their work.)

I read. It was fine. There were two other readers, but I’ve forgotten who they were, as my memory of that night has been taken over completely by the final reader.

She was a published, lauded, important poet. She had received residencies from every fancy-pants residency in the nation. She began by reading some works-in-progress. By this I mean, she’d read a poem, and then end it by telling us, “I don’t have an ending for that yet.” This went on for about 10 minutes. Then, she told us she would be bringing her young daughter up on stage to do “live paintings” to accompany her poetry. They set up watercolors on the floor. She told anecdotes. The daughter painted, but only after she’d concocted the “perfect” black. We were shown these paintings. By now, it had been maybe 20 minutes. We were tired. We were bored. Just when I thought I literally couldn’t take it anymore without walking out, the poet asked us, “Do you mind if I sing?”

The audience was silent.

She sang a ballad. A cappella. With multiple verses.

Don’t do that. Do this instead:

1. Respect your audience

Your audience wants to be entertained. They are hungry for stories. Don’t read something that only works “on the page.” We can’t see the page. Don’t explain to us the experimental convention you’ve come up with to represent the sound of birds alphabetically. We want to listen. Tell us a story. Don’t bring props and multiple handouts and then lose them and spend the first five minutes on stage trying to figure out if you left them at the bar. Be organized. Don’t tell anecdotes that are longer than the piece you’re about to read. Don’t read a work-in-progress unless you’re sure it’s very, very good. You don’t need to say, “This is a work in progress,” as if that’s your Get out of Jail Free card, and we’ll all forgive you if it isn’t very good. Read your best work. Pretend you’re on the radio, and all we have is your voice. Don’t get up onstage and send a text message before you read. I am serious. Don’t read from your iPhone unless you have just come from a fire in which your reading material was burned.

2. Respect your host

If the host says “read for ten minutes,” then practice. Time yourself. It isn’t cool to show up and read for 18 minutes. Wear a watch. Telling anecdotes “counts” towards your time limit. It’s nice to say thank you, but you don’t need to grovel. Most reading series hosts have an order in mind, and if they ask you to read first, say “No problem.” If they ask you to read last, say “No problem.” Only if they ask you if you have an order preference do you get to say so. If you are reading at a bookstore, it’s always nice to send a Thank You card the next day. (And sometimes the bookstore will write back!)

3. Respect the other readers

Even if you went first, don’t leave before the reading is over. Please. Unless it is a four-hour poetry reading, in which case you totally have my permission, because I have left those at half-time, too. Be nice. Treat everyone as your equal. You’re all here together for this moment, and who knows when, or under what circumstances, you’ll all meet again.