Footnotes

Years ago, I spent a teenage sum­mer as an appren­tice in a rur­al sum­mer stock the­atre, the the­atre being a con­vert­ed old barn. My job was to line up the var­i­ous props for the par­tic­u­lar play in pro­duc­tion. Dur­ing per­for­mances, I was sta­tioned under the wood­en audi­to­ri­um floor.

From that loca­tion, I could hear the actors’ voic­es, and the pro­gres­sion of the play. I also real­ized that I could gauge the audience’s engage­ment with the par­tic­u­lar per­for­mance on a giv­en night by the way the audi­ence moved their feet. The wood­en floor and the emp­ty space below—where I was—amplified those feet move­ments. The bet­ter the per­for­mance, the less feet move­ment there was. A poor per­for­mance brought con­stant movement.

Fast for­ward to me try­ing out a new book—reading it to a mid­dle school class. The lis­ten­ing kids are always polite. However—when my sto­ry flags, or becomes obscure, or in any way less engaging—I hear feet begin to move. Not one rest­less child, but a lot of them. Hav­ing pen­cil in hand, I mark X next to that “rest­less” pas­sage even as I con­tin­ue reading

Back at my desk, I cut, edit, or in some fash­ion rewrite that move­ment-induc­ing passage.

Read your work aloud. Always pay atten­tion to footnotes.