Word After Word

You know Star Power. Before the fans, you can do no wrong. The Wii vibrates and all the sudden, something else takes over and plays the hardest part for you.  The crowd goes wild! 

How do you get it, this Star Power? You hit all the correct notes right out of the gate. You are perfect. You’re rehearsed. You started out really, really, really good and thus you bought yourself some space.

In writing workshops, hitting all the right notes means this: you never miss class, you aren’t late, you’ve read everything, twice, you’ve got things to say—you’ve rehearsed for class.  Your copies are stapled, organized, perfect. You’re really, really good. You’re into it. You’re making contact with us, moment by moment by moment.

Then, when you get the flu, or your muse departs for Bermuda and you are forced against your will to turn in a terrible piece of writing, or your favorite aunt gets sick, or you break up with The Boy, if you’ve got Star Power, magic happens. You’ll notice the teacher, and the class, and life itself cut you some slack. Something takes over and gets you through.

Give the class, the assignments, our interactions, your best stuff right out of the gate. Really work at it. Then, when you need it, you’ll notice the lights are flashing, your axe is magically playing the notes for you, the crowd is behind you, no matter what you do or fail to do. We’ll get you through. You ride on Star Power.

If you miss a lot of notes at the beginning, you’ll notice the other musicians in your band shaking their heads, the crowd grows unruly, your manager walks off stage, hiding her face.

There’s nothing that can be done. Even Eric Clapton can’t save you now.