On December 6, we presented When The Bough Breaks to the public with a reading and a celebration at the Carnegie Center. I had forgotten in the midst of publishing, sewing, and marketing the book how wonderful the written work is. Each of us read five minutes and each of us made the work new again.
Words weigh more when read out loud. When reading silently to yourself from the page, you hear your own voice, your own incantations and prejudices. But when the author reads, you hear her intent, her emphases and pauses and, hence, her meanings, as her voice feels its way from word to word, stone to stone through rapids, over falls, along placid streams, into reflecting pools.
It felt as if I was hearing these poems and stories and essays for the first time. So, it seems, we begin again. I left that celebration brimming with good cheer. What a joy again to be part of this enterprise. What gladness at our individual and collaborative triumph. What gratitude for the reading public who appreciate this book, this venture, this claim.
Lynn
You said it so well, Lynn: listening to the readings was sheer joy and an essential reminder–thanks.