When Penguin Books asked if I was interested in turning my signature one man show, “The Church of 80% Sincerity,” into a book with the same title, I was excited and eager.
In some ways I was well prepared. For example, I already had an agent from my life as a performer: Robyn Stecher, a warrior with heart who did the negotiating. But when I found myself with twelve pages of contract with very small type, and I had to come through with a book within six months, I was also quite afraid.
I had always found consolation in the old Irish saying, “Writers are failed talkers.” But I secretly feared the opposite was true as well.
I am confident about my performing. But not about writing. All by myself? Intellectual, analytical, alone? With no audience laughter to encourage me? No standing ovations?
OK, I had a legal obligation with deadline and penalty attached. That gave me some motivation for sure. But I had to find a method that worked for me.
I got some inspiration from Annie Lamott’s classic book for writers, “Bird by Bird.” Annie is able to be encouraging while acknowledging the difficulties in being a writer.
I made a self-assessment. Here’s what I felt I knew: I don’t like to work alone. I do like to improvise. I work best when I make commitments to others (instead of depending on my own wavery self-discipline). I enjoy an audience. So I decided to find ways to bring these strengths and preferences to my writing.
I signed up for writing classes at my neighborhood arts center. I organized several full day writing workshops led by writing teacher Abby Wasserman, and invited my friends.
I filled my work week with commitments to others who wanted to write. We sat together with our laptops and pads and began by writing a five minute check in, then reading it to one another. We told each other what kind of feedback we wanted (this ranged from “unconditional love and approval, please!” to “come at this piece with knives sharpened, I have to finish it by Friday”).
And then we free wrote. For half an hour at a time, pens were not allowed to leave paper and fingers were not allowed to leave keyboards, no matter what was coming out (for example: “I hate this, I don’t know what to write, the sound of Dennis’ keyboard is so fucking irritating). Invariably, this effort produced juicy word morsels that could later be used to build whole chapters. I always got helpful feedback.
I learned I did not have to work alone after all.
I went through my files, both digital and paper, many of which I hadn’t looked at for at least eight years. I looked through all my writing and divided it into “hot,” “maybe,” and “ummm, I don’t think so,” based on my conversations with Meg Leder (my editor at Penguin) and on my own instincts.
So my first lesson was: keep writing. The second lesson: save what you write. If, years later, you find one good sentence in five pages of writing, that is great. Because that is what happened for me.
It all started like Annie said it would.
Many of my stage tools were lost to me as I began writing, and that too was worrisome. There could be no changing of volume, cadence or emphasis. I could not pause. I could not change what I wanted to say at the last minute or show facial expression or gestures.
What I missed most was the inability to get that audience response. But I found that the other part of having an audience was that I needed to please them. It was a joy to realize that, as a writer, I could stop and go deeper into any topic, to find facets previously unrevealed because of my obligations to an audience in front of me.
For example, in my show I quip that I believe in unconditional love, but that it has a shelf life of eight seconds. Meg suggested I develop that single sentence into a full chapter! Using the free write method, I found a bunch of eight second bursts of love in my life (for example, I was able to discover and cherish the ways in which my father showed me love by teaching me sports), and I got a great chapter. From performing, I had retained a sense of what were the hot spots and transformative moments in a story, but now I had permission to explore them more deeply, and I found that my work became richer.
The most difficult part of the book was writing the dedication and acknowledgements. I had so many people to acknowledge that I ended up just making a long long list. I am sure I forgot really significant people and wish now I would instead have written a paragraph of general acknowledgement without trying to name all the names.
And oh yes, the music. When I had to work alone, I’d put a CD full volume on repeat for hours on end. Marlena would not be home at these times, of course. My three favorites: Beethoven’s 9th, Marvin Gaye’s greatest hits, and a real throbber from Sounds Unlimited.
It feels great to be a bona fide author. It is difficult to wait until the publication date, but I have been very encouraged by the fact that Penguin has chosen “The Church of 80% Sincerity” to be one of its featured titles.
Have I been extremely fortunate? Yes. Every step of this process has been marked by grace, as my writer friends constantly remind me. Whenever I have expressed any sort of negativity, my friend Terri Tate (a constant moral guide) would say, “On your knees, maggot! Give me 20 prayers of gratitude, right now!”
And I complied.
 When David Roche walks on stage, the audience says with one voice: “What happened to your face?” He has encouraged them to say this, so he can then explain that he was born with a severe facial disfigurement.
David considers his face a gift, because “my shadow side—my difficulty and challenge—is on the outside, where I have been forced to deal with it.”
He believes in the healing power of humor and storytelling.
For more, visit www.davidroche.com.
Related
Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life – by Anne Lamott
Abby Wasserman’s writing classes
Terri Tate—inspirational humorist
Perigee Books
Pre-order David Roche’s book on Amazon.com!
Also on Irked
My Men’s Group, by David Roche
The Gospel According to Reverend Dave Roche
Facially Disfigured, Spiritually Aligned – Meet David Roche
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