Practice, Practice, Practice

How do you get to Carnegie Hall?

Parents love to perpetuate the myth that if you practice often enough, you'll become a classical music superstar by the time you're nineteen. I maintain that no amount of practice would have vaulted me or my cello to even the least prestigious orchestra. Despite my musicianship, decent sound, and ability to memorize, my fingers never quite got everything right. I doubt that added practice would have solved that: talent does seem to count for something.

Still, practice also counts for something.

This weekend, I was waiting to cross a wide avenue when I looked for the "walk" sign. After a few seconds of searching around with my eyes, I spotted it -- or, at least, I thought I did. I saw an orange spot that was, from what I could tell, the "stop" signal. But I wasn't sure, and it took another second for me to figure out: Was that really an orange hand, or was it my imagination?

As it turns out, itwas real, and I waited for it to change, but it got me thinking. I use my imagination a lot. Just walking around the city or even looking around a room, my mind fills in all kinds of details that may or may not exist. This can be frustrating, especially when I turn out to be wrong -- You mean, that wasn't the toaster oven? -- but it does give me plenty of practice.

This may (partly) explain why, unlike many adults, I have no problem jumping from reality to imagination and back. I do it all the time. Like every other writer, I go through good and bad streaks and sometimes can't settle on what to write, but I rarely have trouble entering the world of my play. Where other people get stuck in the real, I slide back and forth pretty easily. I might have made a great Bush official... if only I wasn't so darn liberal.

Typically, people think of artists as daydreamers, people who have their heads in the clouds. There are plenty of us who are generally grounded and sane, but there's nothing wrong with a little daydreaming, or even a split-second nap from reality, right? A blind spot, a deaf ear, or a bit of dyslexia can be a handy thing, even for someone whose profession has nothing to do with art. It's good practice for the imagination.

By the way, to answer the question posed at the top of this page: Take the N, R, Q, or W trains to 57 Street. Alternatively, you can walk from several other subway stations, such as the F, 1, A, B, C, or D trains. No worries; you'll get there. Just don't ask to walk on stage.