Writing is like dancing. Everyone wants the trophy but not everyone is willing to do what it takes to get it. I knew my girls had “it” because they danced around the house all the time.
With their hair neatly pulled back into a dinner roll bun shape, sparkling black patent tap shoes, I drove my talented twin girls to the local dance studio.
Soon my fantasy turned into reality. Turned in toes, bent knees, rounded backs and $400 a month! This was not the picture I had of my little darlings in the limelight. Stardom was going to take a little longer than I had imagined.
I filled out the enrollment form for the 4:30 p.m. Thursday afternoon combination class.
Week one: Ballet, jazz and tap all taught in 55 minutes. (What did I know?) At this rate they would learn one dance in nine months to be performed at the annual recital.
Week two: Flap, flap, ball chain, shuffle, grapevine… Dance slang… So exciting… I was learning more than my seven year olds. My feet began to vibrate with each tap.
Week three: My daughters had talent. I am sure the teacher would recognize it if she would just take her eyes off the Shirley Temple Clone in the red sequined leotard.
Week four: At last! The individual attention I had been waiting for. Each child was to gracefully walk across the floor on their little tippy toes while holding their arms as if they were carrying a large beach ball, with heads high and shoulders down…. It was obvious my darlings had never carried a large beach ball.
Week five: Repetition of weeks, 1, 2, 3 and 4. Thirty-six more weeks to go.
Before the thirty-six weeks were half over, I realized one dance class a week was not going to make anyone a dancer. In order to become good at what you do, you must do it daily.
Writing is like dancing. It is a discipline and must be practiced daily.
With their hair neatly pulled back into a dinner roll bun shape, sparkling black patent tap shoes, I drove my talented twin girls to the local dance studio.
Soon my fantasy turned into reality. Turned in toes, bent knees, rounded backs and $400 a month! This was not the picture I had of my little darlings in the limelight. Stardom was going to take a little longer than I had imagined.
I filled out the enrollment form for the 4:30 p.m. Thursday afternoon combination class.
Week one: Ballet, jazz and tap all taught in 55 minutes. (What did I know?) At this rate they would learn one dance in nine months to be performed at the annual recital.
Week two: Flap, flap, ball chain, shuffle, grapevine… Dance slang… So exciting… I was learning more than my seven year olds. My feet began to vibrate with each tap.
Week three: My daughters had talent. I am sure the teacher would recognize it if she would just take her eyes off the Shirley Temple Clone in the red sequined leotard.
Week four: At last! The individual attention I had been waiting for. Each child was to gracefully walk across the floor on their little tippy toes while holding their arms as if they were carrying a large beach ball, with heads high and shoulders down…. It was obvious my darlings had never carried a large beach ball.
Week five: Repetition of weeks, 1, 2, 3 and 4. Thirty-six more weeks to go.
Before the thirty-six weeks were half over, I realized one dance class a week was not going to make anyone a dancer. In order to become good at what you do, you must do it daily.
Writing is like dancing. It is a discipline and must be practiced daily.
Write it down,
Carma
