Singing Like a Canary
Last year, for my birthday, I got a peach-colored canary. I named him Zen. At least Zen was supposed to be a male--because only male canaries have a song. But months later, no song from Zen. He was a silent bird. This was very, very odd. I talked to the breeder and he offered to exhange Zen, assuming he was actually a she. But by then, I was used to my silent canary. I figured Zen was either a girl, or a transvestite. Given my circle of friends, and my love for all my gay pals, I thought it was rather fitting.
I have raised--and bred--all sorts of birds--finches of every sort, canaries, cockatoos, lovebirds, and conures. So, I know how to keep my birds happy. I added fresh grasses in little pots into Zen's environment, real tree branches, as well as all kinds of toys and treats. Still no song. When I moved here last summer, I tried hanging his big cage out on the porch so he could see the yard and the creek and feel the breezes. Nothing.
In winter, I kept him in my office where he would always hear me talking on the phone, where he heard music all day long. Where I could chat with him. Silence.
This past Sunday, now that any chance of frost has passed, I moved Zen back to his old spot on the porch. And? A song! Not just any song. A beautiful, lovely canary song--it's glorious. He is indeed a He and not a trannie bird, and he sings! Now, each evening, I sit outside (he sings around 5:00) and listen to him.
Which got me thinking. For many of us, we came to writing after we tried different things and other careers. Or we tried one type of writing or genre, and it didn't make us sing, but then we found our voice doing a different type of book.
For me, I had tried writing psychological suspense. It wasn't bad, but . . . then I tried comedy, and the result was Spanish Disco, which sold in a matter of weeks. Comedy is really important to me, and even my dark stuff has such quirky characters that there is humor, in the way, I suppose, some people laugh at Pulp Fiction.
So . . . anyone with a canary-like journey? How did you learn to sing?
I have raised--and bred--all sorts of birds--finches of every sort, canaries, cockatoos, lovebirds, and conures. So, I know how to keep my birds happy. I added fresh grasses in little pots into Zen's environment, real tree branches, as well as all kinds of toys and treats. Still no song. When I moved here last summer, I tried hanging his big cage out on the porch so he could see the yard and the creek and feel the breezes. Nothing.
In winter, I kept him in my office where he would always hear me talking on the phone, where he heard music all day long. Where I could chat with him. Silence.
This past Sunday, now that any chance of frost has passed, I moved Zen back to his old spot on the porch. And? A song! Not just any song. A beautiful, lovely canary song--it's glorious. He is indeed a He and not a trannie bird, and he sings! Now, each evening, I sit outside (he sings around 5:00) and listen to him.
Which got me thinking. For many of us, we came to writing after we tried different things and other careers. Or we tried one type of writing or genre, and it didn't make us sing, but then we found our voice doing a different type of book.
For me, I had tried writing psychological suspense. It wasn't bad, but . . . then I tried comedy, and the result was Spanish Disco, which sold in a matter of weeks. Comedy is really important to me, and even my dark stuff has such quirky characters that there is humor, in the way, I suppose, some people laugh at Pulp Fiction.
So . . . anyone with a canary-like journey? How did you learn to sing?
Labels: writing styles, Zen
posted by Erica Orloff at 8:09 AM
9 Comments:
Amazing story! I love birds! I've always had cockatiels. Canaries are so pretty--I once knew one that would Figaro.
Every now and then, I read through bits of everything I've written. I mostly had my voice in the beginning, and then "everyone" said you shouldn't write in first person if you're a beginner.
I still feel like a beginner, after all these years, but ... I've found my voice again!
spy:
Good for you. :-)
I think I have a "comedy" voice--and then maybe a darker one. I also write differently for YA, but I think there's still traces of my comedy voice in there.
E
That is such a cool story!
I discovered my voice fairly early in my writing journey. I did try unsuccessfully to write a Harlequin type book (I didn't actually finish it) but as soon as I tried writing the genre I love to read everything fell into place (it was a real lightbulb moment for me).
Sara:
I think I had sort of the same journey. I first tried writing a style I thought I could SELL, but then abandoned it and wrote just a novel. A quirky, odd novel that I did not think I could sell because the heroine was rude and dfficult and bitchy. And . . . it was what sold because I think I went with what my authentic voice is. I guess that makes me a bitch. :-)
E
I love hearing you say that, Erica! People sometimes insist we only have one voice. I've always worriedly disagreed.
I'm glad an author like you believes it (and proves it, too)!
I had a dream last night I was sitting at a table with John Lennon (maybe because that Blake dude sang Imagine on American Idol last night) and he was talking to someone who had just performed a cover song on stage. John told this person in my dream, "Don't try to imitate (so and so), just be yourself. Make the song yours."
Words of wisdom, I think.
Your bird, like many of us, just took some time to find his voice.
I think I'm still looking for mine. If you find it would you send it home, or keep it occupied until I show up?
Jude:
You often speak to Jon Lennon?
Hmmmm.
:-)
E
ewoh:
I am sure your voice is just waiting for the perfect breezy day like Zen did. But if it shows up here, I'll tie it down.
E
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