Storytelling: an act of trust by Charlene Ann Baumbich
DILEMMA: A character, a complete stranger to me, starts to murmur in my ear. She is an injured professional ballet dancer. I don’t want to make a fool of myself by writing a story that reveals my ignorance. I know nothing about ballet. For weeks on end, I try to silence her, convince her to go away. She won’t.
ACTION: I begin to research the life of a professional dancer. Books. Memoirs. YouTube. Endless Googling. I research until … I’m creatively constipated. I am now convinced only a professional dancer should tackle such a story. The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know. Any story possibility is likely doomed.
DECISION TO TRUST: Eventually and begrudgingly, I wear myself down to this choice: either move on to my next idea, or trust. Trust the character who still won’t leave me alone. Trust that the dancer and her story will guide me. Set the research aside and trust I’ve absorbed enough to move forward. Trust there is something for me to learn about life through this woman. Trust the gift God has given me. Trust my faith to see me through.
Charlene, I say, cheering myself on, you are not writing the great tome on professional ballet. You are simply telling a story about a dancer. Get over yourself!
Even though I’m a tad nervous, with trust, I allow Sasha Davis (she has whispered her name) to enter my personal space. After permitting her such an intimate inroad, I must now single mindedly focus on her, eyes closed, fingers on the keyboard. I purpose to remain this way—still, expectant, trusting—until either a) I hear the clarity of her words b) “see” her in a scene or c) overhear someone else talking to or about her.
THE REWARDS OF TRUST: As a faraway object comes into focus when it draws nearer, out of the black hole of the depths of my imagination emerges an image. Oh! This is the first time I see her! Sasha sits in a rocking chair. She has an unusual hand-crafted shawl wrapped around her shoulders. With hesitance, my fingers begin to move, pushing the blinking cursor forward, recording the details of the vision of Sasha fingering a bead in the shawl.
Music! Sasha hears music. I begin to hum. My fingers accelerate. I’m not sure of the song title, but I trust it will come to me later. I am not stopping now to do research. I have LIFE!
Chapter one begins to emerge. I do not break trust with unanswered questions; I let the story—Sasha’s memory—lead.
Crash! A tea cup shatters when it falls to the floor. I see a pair of young hands collecting the fragments.
I rear back for a moment, remove my fingers from the keyboard, start to read what I’ve written. The image of the young hands begins to fade. I realize stopping is a mistake. Stay with them! I close my eyes again, allow the moving hands to sharpen.
Another female. (Fingers typing again.) Is that an engagement ring? (Fingers stall.) The stone is so small, I can hardly tell …
Stop thinking, Charlene! Trust whoever it is to fill you in.
Evelyn, I type. Her name is Evelyn. Compared to Sasha’s music-laden reverie about the last time she’d appeared on stage, the large-boned Evelyn is a loud, clunky intrusive burst of enthusiasm. Sasha and Evelyn begin to talk to each other.
Alleluia!
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. The story is talking to me. The story lives, and soon reveals one of its first surprises: I’m not just writing about the plight of an injured dancer. This story is about the intertwined lives of these two women. I sense it. Creative juices sparking, spirit quickened, I trust and keep writing.
DOUBT INVADES: Several chapters in, for reasons unknown to any sane writer, I stop trusting and start thinking again. Although I feel like I know Evelyn, what if Sasha’s heart breaking story doesn’t ring true? What if I have the emotions of her tragedy all wrong? I need to talk to a dancer, but I don’t know any. Maybe I should stop writing until I can verify – something, anything.
DECISION TO TRUST: I choose to cast down doubt. Why would you want to punch the story in the gut now by over thinking, Charlene? Get out of the way! I pray for courage. I skip my usual “action phase” (research until I make myself nuts) and cling to trust. I keep writing. The story is ALIVE! Let it breathe into you.
I trust. I trust. I trust.
Two days later, I’m chatting with a long-time neighbor. [Note I am also living life apart from my keyboard.] She is a dog breeder, trainer and groomer. She loves our dear Kornflake. She asks me how it’s going. It’s going great, I tell her. But away from the keyboard and the distraction of my fascinating characters, my vulnerability slips through. I share my Achilles heel and blurt out that I am occasionally haunted by doubt. Doubt I’m making a fool of myself with the premise of this story. I bemoan the fact I don’t know a single dancer to query.
She tells me she used to groom a dancer’s dogs. She doesn’t know much about his career, but she really likes him as a person and dog owner. Would I like his name and contact number? Feel free to use her name, she says.
THE REWARDS OF COMPOUNDING TRUST: I trust this real dancer will receive a call from a stranger and that my friend’s name will at least garner me a short conversation. I am unaware of the remarkable miracle in front of me.
It turns out that Kenneth von Heidecke is not just “a dancer”. He is an internationally renowned dancer, choreographer and teacher who studied with Maria Tallchief. His ongoing whirlwind of a professional life leaves me breathless. Our conversation is lengthy and remarkable.
I learn Mr. Von Heidecke suffered through the aftermath of a devastating mid-air collision, an on-stage career ending injury! My premise and Sasha’s fallout after the accident are not only theoretically in the ballpark, he says, they are spot on.
Affirmation and validation arrive, right on time.
After the story is complete, Mr. von Heidecke not only reads an Advanced Reading Copy of Finding Our Way Home, but graciously endorses the book too.
***
After every paragraph, and sometimes even before those first precious words are written, an author is dealt the opportunity to bale on a story, to let insecurity or a lack of knowledge squash them. Don’t do it, I say! TRUST!
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You can learn more about Charlene and her books at www.charleneannbaumbich.com
Finding Our Way Home released March 13, 2012. Read endorsements and an excerpt here at Random House.
Kenneth von Heidecke is currently receiving RAVE reviews as choreographer for Aida - An Opera at The Lyric Opera Chicago. And Sasha Davis, well, you'll just have to read the book to find out. (Shameless.)
