I Wrote A Book

It’s interesting to consider all the accomplishments we achieve in life.  Looking back at where we were, and forward to where we’re headed opens new possibilities, reflecting on making each day count.  Approaching a new year, typical goals like losing weight and being more productive, in one way or another tend to top the list.  However, as years move forward I like to reflect closer on surprises that happened and how we might approach all the wonderful possibilities ahead with renewed confidence.

This year, I wrote a book. While blog writing progressed, I found myself thrown into a rabbit hole of creation to write, re-write, and continually edit a specialized workbook for choreographers. In my library of notebooks lives a plethora of choreographic compositions I have written down over the years- Yes, I have everything written down because like anyone who didn’t grow up relying on technology, I still handwrite everything. 

While this book might progress into an online app for recording choreography one day (or not), I am currently enjoying this prototype, experiencing what it’s like to use pages that have all the tools that I’ve been scrawling for years, at my fingertips.

While I hope to one day create a more universally useful publication, a choreographic workbook feels like a safe first step. Like with any new endeavor, the first step feels foreign and overwhelming with too much communication for something so personal. 

Practicality tends to be my default when it comes to any sort of artistic endeavor. Does it share a message that I care about, whether ironic or educational? Even when studying interior design, I’ve always been drawn to the practical functionality over aesthetics. This is likely why I have a center island that’s the size of a ping pong table, because it can double as a ping pong table when we’re not baking 6 cakes at a time for my daughter’s baking business. Perhaps finding practicality is a way to balance the ridiculousness I personally strive for daily, like the way we need to accomplish obligations in order to finally lay on the couch with a book and a dog or 2. 

The other consideration I’ve had during this process is: do I care if this book ends up in a University Dance Department or Ballet Boutique, or am I just publishing this book for myself as a way to ease the choreographic process which can become tedious when too many works are created simultaneously. When we create something innovative for ourselves, is it necessary to reproduce the product to share, or is it just a silly means to pass time in order to put into fruition an idea we’ve possessed for a time? 

I believe that life has meaning when we are able to share bits of ourselves with others, let it be kindness or support, or semi-intelligible instruction. While not everyone falls into a place where they teach others regularly, leading by example has illuminated a cause beyond myself to portray who I would one day like to become.