Recently Amy Willoughby-Burle,
author of Out Across the Nowhere,
asked me about memorable experiences at readings, and it got me thinking about
questions I’ve been asked.
The event was scheduled at a retirement home. When I arrived, several people already were waiting
in the reception room, which was encouraging.
After all, as a poet, I have high hopes regarding turn-outs, but low
expectations. If anyone besides the
organizer shows up, I’m happy, (and, sadly, yes, there have been times when
it’s just the two of us). Right before I
began, the home’s staff walked and wheeled in more audience members. One of them, Harold, immediately had a
question: "When's lunch? I’m hungry."
He was reminded that they had just eaten. I gave my reading and people nodded and
nodded off, then I asked if there were any questions. "Yes," Harold
said, "When's lunch?" I said
that I thought lunch had already been served.
"Well, I'm still hungry," he replied, "I think I have
some bananas in my room. Anybody want to
go to my room and eat some bananas?” At
this point a staff member said, "Now Harold, you know you're not allowed
to have people in your room anymore." "Well, Goddamnit," Harold
said, "I'm hungry. When's
lunch?"
In addition to retirement homes, I’ve done readings in bars,
bookstores, visitor centers, malls, parks, restaurants. I’m willing to try all kinds of events, and,
since I sometimes write about wine, my publisher once got us a booth and a
reading at a large Health Expo. It seemed a good decision since right before I
went on stage it was standing room only with over four hundred people in
attendance. They were there, however,
for Jillian Michaels of “The Biggest Loser,” who was scheduled in front of me. As soon as she finished, everyone left,
except for a couple of elderly women and someone breastfeeding a child. I read a few poems and then one of the women
raised a hand and asked, “Is this where the dance troupe is going to perform? When is that?”
What can be more surprising are questions from people who, supposedly,
came specifically to see me. I once was
asked to lead a poetry writing workshop at a library. The library put it in their newsletter. When I arrived, the front door had a sign
that said, “Poetry Workshop Today with Poet Joe Mills.” The door to the classroom had a similar
sign. I began, and approximately ten
minutes later, a woman raised her hand and said, “I don’t like poetry. Is that all you’re going to talk about?” When I said, “Well, yes” (in an oddly apologetic tone). She asked, “Can’t you do something else?”
It’s a question that I come back to often.
I once did a reading at an assisted living facility, and the few residents who came loved it. Before I started writing full time, I worked for fifteen years in a nursing home as a registered music therapist. Needless to say, the residents enjoyed the music I sang and played. If in the future, I'm presented with the question, "Can't you do something else besides poetry?" I would say yes, and I would sing for them, accompanying myself or not, depending on the circumstances. Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow. Thanks for sharing your experiences.
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