I've hired an acting coach, Isabelle, who is training me to stand taller, take up more room. Last session we did the heel-ball-toe walk. You roll your foot, move by standing straight, eyes forward, as if some hand were at the small of your back pushing you. Crowds are parting for me, not "noticing" me so much as getting out of the way of the ninjalike power I'm projecting. The key is to walk tall and focus the eyes on the horizon, imagining the sea beyond the concrete walls of the city. People will feel this sovereignty around you.
Today is lesson two, communication, which I am learning is not really about accuracy. Communication is two-thirds emotion and one-third content. Everything Isabelle is teaching me can be applied to soloing. She suggests that my voice is too high and provokes a feeling of uncertainty, which distances listeners from me. To draw them in, sound should come not from my throat but from deeper in the body.
She says, "Tell me where your tongue is." "Curled at the roof of my mouth," I confess, wondering if this might be deviant. "Most people park their tongue there, but that's bad," she says. "Rest your tongue against your lower teeth. You'll feel calmer; your jaws won't be so tight." I want to reach the point where I can walk into a room the way Isabelle does and not feel as if I'm in a Seinfeld script, with something about to go ludicrously wrong.
MAY 5: Dreaming wide-awake
Today I drew up a list of the people I am most intrigued by and plotted out my "six degrees of separation" from them: Steve Jobs, Rudy Giuliani, Phil Knight, Edgar Bronfman Jr., young George Bush, and Oprah, who I hope will run for president. These people need to rethink their legacy, their place in history, now, while they are at the peak of their powers. It's not just presidents or dictators who need to plan their legacy. It's all of us. To see yourself in history is to see all that one person is capable of doing.
How do I get to these six people? I make lists of people who know people who know people who know them. I will ask, ask, ask for advice on reaching them. Put them all on my mailing list. Tack the list above my desk. I will work at the list sporadically, but I'll keep it there permanently to remind me of the standards I aspire to. Everything I do I will have to feel I can proudly show to these six.
MAY 7: Edgy is good, if you're not prone to falling
"What if something happens to me and I can't work? What do I fall back on?" I ask Avram. "That's what disability insurance is for," he says. Bingo! Because of COBRA, health coverage is automatic when you leave Ma-and-Pa Corporation, but disability insurance you have to rustle up yourself. I check the Web for insurance brokers but decide to find someone I can trust. I call my accountant for a recommendation and soon reach his broker, who asks for my last three years of income-tax returns, my book contract, and notes on other sources of income before coming back with an estimate: Maximum coverage means a policy that would pay me $8,000 per month, starting 45 days after the onset of disability, until death. The premiums, he warns, are enormous. It will cost roughly $9,000 the first year, and it escalates by $1,000 nearly every year after that. I have no idea if this broker's estimate is high, so I must try for a competitive bid. A whole day wasted making these stupid but necessary calls.
MAY 9: Charles Manson is showing up in my daydreams
Two days ago I hadn't thought about disability insurance; now it's all I think about. I decide to get two more bids. But both come back with an even higher premium and more dire warnings: "Buy insurance now while you're still under the Doubleday contract [that's my editing contract; it expires July 31]; otherwise, you may not seem that good a risk." Meaning: an employee is a safer bet than a soloist. As a woman I am already disadvantaged in the eyes of the insurers. Women live longer than men but have more medical complaints.
MAY 16: O solo mio
My piano arrived today. Three years ago, after my divorce, I slept on a sofa. Now I have a bed and this Steinway Boston, filling the room with its mad grin, 52 white teeth, open in a big gotcha smile. I put my fingers on the keyboard, not a clue what I'm doing. I am rewarded with this big sound, beautiful, much better than I deserve.
What am I doing with a piano? It feels necessary, as if my basic categories of need and desire are turning inside out. This whole exercise of soloing is a challenge to destroy old limits. I'm not even thinking about the money. Or the fact that I could have hired a part-time secretary for what this baby grand costs. My old fears, in which I saw everything through the veil of a price tag, are disappearing. It's not that I have more money, it's that I have more confidence that I can earn it. Should I learn to sing?
Took another call from an acquaintance asking me for publishing advice, which he expects, as in the old days, to get for free. I'm not eager to trade on old knowledge, but in some cases I can't refuse. How do I ask these people for money? I E-mail my friend Allan Kennedy for advice. His answer: "Be bold and ask for a reasonable fee for your time and advice. I would suggest that something around $500 an hour or $5,000 a day, or more, would be appropriate for someone of your experience. You might want to get your feet wet at a more modest level, but don't even think of going for less than half of these amounts.
"When first asked, you might suggest that the first two hours or so are free, so that you can make an assessment of whether you can help or not. But be clear up front that the clock starts running thereafter. The only fault with this is you will give away a lot of free time and advice--but then, so do most consultants.
"Most consultants would prefer to be on a retainer and are willing to cut their hourly rate to get one. Most, however, find it difficult to get clients to agree. Therefore, you are better off just having a per diem and converting to a retainer only if the relationship continues long enough.
"Don't be shy about all of the above. Be bold. People are used to paying consulting fees and dislike uncertainty more than the fees themselves. Of course, everyone will take something for free if it is offered, but that would be your fault, not theirs."
