Storytorch

In just a few days, I launch a slide lecture I've been working on for two months. Titled "Why We Quilt," my presentation examines the motivations of American quilters from 1776 to the present day. I'm speaking to over a thousand quilters in southeastern Pennsylvania, and I'm eager to finally discover the impact this new lecture, a project that has so preoccupied me, will have on my audience.

A successful lecture, like a beautiful piece of music, contains a range of emotions, the slow, perhaps sad, adagio sections balanced by brisk, hopefully humorous, allegros. An ending fugue is not a bad idea, either.

Speaking to large audiences doesn't worry me. I locate a few friendly faces in the front rows and speak in their direction. Those listeners who make eye contact with you and hang on every word, nodding in agreement from time to time (rather than nodding off to sleep), have no idea how much we public speakers appreciate them.

My only concern is about the power of my quilt visuals themselves. Some of the images, and their stories, are so moving I get emotional just viewing them at home on my computer. What will they do to me on the big screen in a darkened room? My goal is to move my audience without choking myself up.

One of my best friends, a gifted soprano who has sung at many joyful weddings and sad funerals, says she pinches the back of her hand, hard, to snap out of it if she starts feeling teary.

As professionals, we do what we must in order to deliver the goods.

 
Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
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