Everything I know About Writing I Learned from a Musical
From Gypsy, the musical based on the life of infamous Burlesque stripper, Gypsy Rose Lee, (Styne, Sondheim & Laurent 1962) I learned “You Gotta Have a Gimmick.” Translation: What’s your hook? If you can’t tell me in one sentence what your story is about, then you aren’t sure….and make it sticky (ala The Tipping Point)! From My Fair Lady, based on Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, (Lerner and Lowe 1956) I learned “Now once again, Eliza, where does it rain?/ On the plain! On the plain!/And where’s that soggy plain?/In Spain! In Spain” and “Ay not I, O not Ow, Don't say "Rine," say "Rain.” Translation: Practice makes perfect and grammar counts.
From Mary Poppins (Richard and Robert Sherman 1964) I learned how to deal with critique and rejection letters: “A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down…”
But the most important lesson of all, the life lesson that has helped me focus, direct my energies, and define what I want to achieve through my writing and for my life came from The Music Man (Meridith Willson, 1957). Professor Harold Hill, a smooth-talking, womanizing, flim-flam man cons the “good people” of River City, Iowa, into buying band instruments and uniforms for their boys under the guise of forming a “town band.” Professor Hill (Robert Preston in the movie)—who can’t read music or play an instrument—instructs the boys using “The Think System,” asserting that music can be learned just by thinking it.
At the climax of the show, a moment that still stops and then warms my heart, the boys, in their ill-fitting uniforms and wielding their shiny new instruments, are assembled in the gym. The tar is hot, a bag of feathers handy....Love interest, Marion the Librarian (Shirley Jones in the movie version) snaps a pointer in half and hands it to the handcuffed Professor. It’s do or be done to time for good old Harold.
Professor Hill raises the pointer, cocks his head, squeezes his eyes closed and implores: “Think, boys, think!”
And they do. Every boy in that room blows, bangs, or beats his instrument with every drop of musicality he has. And I’ll be danged if they don't make music! It’s not perfect; the band is far from on key or in time, but those boys play music! Before our eyes the motley crew become a shining, high-stepping brass band—76 Trombones strong. “That’s my Barney!” one dad calls out (our family’s ataboy!)
The current name for it is the “Art of Abundance” defined as: “ The secret to getting the goals you set begins with setting an intention -- a powerful tool that generates results because it reprograms your brain to see the truth: That you are easily and effortlessly accomplishing what you desire.”Oprah touts it, preaches it, devotes programs to it. Books like The Secret and The Passion Test teach it. Before all of them, Meridith Willson had it (it may have taken 8 years and 30 revisions, but he proved it with The Music Man.): The Think System.
You can do it! As sure as those boys played those instruments, you can do it--whatever your IT is. You can write that poem, that play, that book! You can achieve everything you want…but first…first….first: You have to Think It.
To paraphrase Professor Harold Hill “Think, Writers. Think!”
When Are You Going to Write an ADULT book?
The capitalizd "ADULT" is theirs: The people who smirk when I say I write "children's books" and think I'm the worst sort of underachiever when I say I'm good for about 750 words--no more, and often, no less (not good, as picture book publishers seem to want younger and shorter). And, no, my ambition is not to write the next great literary novel, or the next Harry Potter-ish zillion-seller. I write mostly picture books (and recently, chapter books). Books for children--children between the ages of 0 and 9, yeah, those little guys. The ones that can't read well, or can't read at all... yet. Because inside--regardless of what this blousy, saggy, wrinkled body I inhabit may imply--I am a child aged somewhere between 0 and 9. I realized today, as I walked all alone down some unknown road in an unfamiliar city--feeling little, lost, lonely and sad--that (to paraphrase my own text) no matter how big I get or how old I get, I will probably always be a child.
I want what every child wants: love, acceptance, companionship, and reassurance that whatever I do or don't do, at the end of the day someone fearless and reliable will make sure I am cozily tucked in. That I have everything I need--including a glass of water and lovies. That, those mean, scary under-the-bed spookies have all been chased away. And that, at the end of it all, no matter how ugly, or mean, or hard it seems--everything is going to come out just fine.
Don't you?
Where to Begin? ‘Tis A Puzzlement
I have a brilliant idea for a story. As soon as I figure out where to begin I’m going to write it. However…knowing when and which window to climb through to enter a story—‘tis a puzzlement. Recently, I visited the Hampton Court Maze outside of London (Henry the 8th old place, William and Mary's too). Don't ask me why as I'm not much for puzzles. Sure, if someone dumps a jigsaw puzzle on the table, I’ll work at fitting the pieces together (especially if it’s dumped on a coffee table during sports or the news). But, not if it’s one of those edgeless or upside down puzzles…and not if you expect me to work from the inside out! If I’m going to work a puzzle, I’m going to work it my way-- by fitting the edges together first.
Hampton Court Maze begins at a neatly trimmed archway in the hedge beckoning “Begin Here” and I did. So I’m in this centuries old Maze. I’m wandering, doubling back, turning and returning on a quest to find the middle. It wasn’t fun. It was frustrating, irritating, and a little frightening. From somewhere in the middle of the Maze, children shouted “Middle! I found Middle!” “I’m in the middle” “Come and get me!” which only irritated me more. I caught flickers of bright colors as they ran and jumped and rejoiced—in the middle! I wanted to be “in the middle” real bad…Or I wanted to quit. (What if I’m still wandering around in here lost at closing time? Will someone rescue me? Send a helicopter?). And it dawned on me: Being lost in a Maze is like writing.
I don’t do aimless. I am not a merry wanderer—no matter how bright the day, how green the grass, how sweetly scented the breeze. Nor do I like wandering around an idea, webbing, character sketching, brainstorming or any other of those “where to begin” writing exercises. I tire too easily. After all that, by the time I’ve found the beginning, I’m too worn out to take the journey.
When I finally found the Maze’s Center, I snapped a photo to prove it, and then started back out. The way out wasn’t any easier than the way in. (I had not pulled a Gretel and laid a trail to follow.) But it was heaps more fun. Because I knew, as sure as I had entered and found the center, that I could find the way out. It’s like that with writing, too. Once a neatly trimmed beginning has lured me inside I’m raring to go. I may not enjoy it, but I’ll wander, follow turns and twists, double back, whatever it takes to get to the end.
Until then I sit and wait, like a roosting hen beneath a Hampton Court Maze hedgerow, perched on my story idea, keeping it warm, turning it regularly, trusting that when the time is right, the perfect beginning will poke me in the butt.
BLAH BLAH BLAH or Bucket List
I want….I want….I want. Career-wise, life-wise I want so much. Don’t you? Life-wise my wants are easy to list: health, wealth and happiness for me and my loved ones. Not too much to wish for is it?
Career-wise, especially when the career I am pursuing is that of a children’s book author, listing my wants is not so easy. I say, “I want to be a successful children’s book author.” But when I’m asked what I mean by “successful” a whole lot of blah blah blah comes out. Why is that?
Is it because I don't know? Or because I'm hesitant to say...to put it out there...to be so bold. Maybe. Maybe I have never taken the time to define "success" for myself. Or, maybe I have never been able to mustered up the courage to clearly define successful for myself. Courage--it definitely takes courage!
Ask a little kid: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Ballerina! Movie Star! Rock Star! Doctor! Astronaut! President! Superman! Ice Cream Girl! they respond, listing infinite choices and possiblities.
We don’t say, “fat chance” or “who the heck do you think you are wanting to be president?” or “be realistic.” We say: “Go for it!”
Not so for us big guys. It seems the older, more mature, more responsible we are the less willing we are to speak up for ourselves, to dare to define “it.”
How can we “go for it” when we won’t let ourselves admit what “it” is?
Dancing With The Stars co-host, Brooke Burke, started her career as a pretzel maker in a mall shop, and look at her now! Last week, Oprah asked Brooke how she went from a contestant on the show to hosting it. Brooke shared how she had created a Bucket List of desires for herself, which she shared, listed, twittered about. She said she had to let herself be vulnerable, to “put it out there” without worrying that she was sounding grabby, or being unrealistic. And to be willing to say to the world, “This is what I want. And, yes, I am going to go for it!” Brooke’s Bucket List included Co-hosting Dancing With the Stars and Being a guest on Oprah! She put it out there. Brooke risked being scoffed at, shot down, teased, being told “fat chance” and “who the heck do you think you are?” And, as Brooke said, “what’s the worst that could happen?”
Following Brooke’s example, I am daring me to create a career bucket list:
What do I want to be when I grow up? A successful children’s book author!
To me, Kelly Goldman Bennett, “Successful Children’s Book Author” means:
I will write picture books and chapter book manuscripts editors want to publish.
My books will receive starred reviews.
My books will receive awards and be on reading lists.
My books will be featured “all school” and “all city” reads.
Children, parents, librarians and teachers will send me fan mail.
Editors will seek me out; ask me to write for them.
Conference Coordinators will invite me to speak.
All this and more!
Your turn: What’s on your bucket list? I dare you!