Why I Wrote The Dance Dragon
One day I decided to do something I never wanted to do: learn to dance. A year later, I decided to do something else I never thought I could do: write a book . Life seems to work that way. Either we get up in the morning and try to accomplish something new or we take a pass and move on. It is our choice.
My interest in learning to dance was event driven. It started with my daughter, Caroline’s decision to marry. I was clueless on the dance floor. My goal was to surprise Caroline with my “dance expertise” at her wedding. The problem was I had been a lifelong dance avoider. My interest in writing a story about my dance experience began because so many people asked “Why do you dance?” I decided it would be easier for them to read my story rather than listen to me talk all night.I envisioned a short story about my clandestine search for a dance instructor, my naivete about all things dance related, and Caroline’s wedding. I knew for certain that I was not the first father of the bride who worried about leading his daughter on the dance floor. Maybe by sharing my experience with others I could bring a little fun into their wedding experience. When I finished a draft of my story I asked for feedback. I was told I had a sense of humor and an honest voice but that the father of the bride story has been told before. Readers would be more interested in hearing about my real reasons for dance avoidance and the journey of a man into the world of ballroom dancing. My short story evolved into a book that would introduce the reader to the people I met in the ballroom world, my struggles to learn, a trip to rural Cuba and ultimately Washington DC for a competitive dance performance.As I finished my first draft I wondered if I ever truly believed my publicly stated reason that “I had no rhythm” for avoiding dancing for years. While it is true that I lacked rhythm and a sense of musicality, my real reasons for dance avoidance were based on feelings of awkwardness, self-doubt and embarrassment. As I became more open about the real reasons, I was surprised that men sought me out and asked me questions. Some men told me they tried dancing but gave up, others said they did not have the time, or did not know how to get started. A few were honest enough to mention they feared dance because they, like me, did not want to make fools of themselves. I realized the story of my journey into the world of ballroom dance had an audience and a purpose. If I shared my story truthfully, perhaps some men would learn from my mistake.When my draft manuscript for the book was complete I asked 5-6 people to read excerpts and provide feedback. In a mix of direct, subtle, and brutal ways I was told my book was a research paper not a story. It had taken me 18 months to write my first manuscript but only several days to accept that my book lacked structure, flow, had too many characters, and was boring.I switched the theme of the book from men who could not dance to the women who helped me learn. Even men who do not dance enjoy watching women who can. I gave the story a clever title playing off everything I learned from the 3,000 women I had danced with and teased the imagination of the reader. I found a publisher who liked the story and thought with tweaks, we could publish. However, the feedback from people more familiar with me or dance thought the story was too choppy. They felt like I was I still holding back and there was no compelling ending. It had taken me a year to create my second manuscript but with that feedback, I dragged the file on my computer into the trash.I decided to do what I originally did not want to do. My third manuscript focused on myself. I shared my emotional ups and downs, the physical contact and intimacy of dancing, the discovery of my own long dormant urge to dance, and the sensations of joy and freedom that ballroom dance provides. The approach required that I be direct and honest with the reader about my own fear, represented by the dragon in my head, and describe my feelings in words as best I could . I shared an outline of the book with an editor/coach . I asked ten people to read yet another draft of my story. I asked them if they kept turning the pages and whether they would recommend the book. Their feedback kept me writing, I could do better, I had found my inner compass. When the third manuscript was done, I realized it had taken another 18 months.I have experienced firsthand what others have told me but I could never understand until I tried. Learning to dance and learning to write are hard. Writing a nonfiction novel is lonely, you must be selfish with your time, work hard at figuring yourself out, and you can rewrite a paragraph forty or fifty times before you are satisfied. Dancing is not lonely, but like writing you need to do things over and over to get it right and if you want to learn you must be willing to make a fool of yourself. Both activities have made me think about my two grown children. My daughter pursued a professional track in ballet for 12 years. My son is a journalist, something he aspired to be since he read his first newspaper. I now better understand their own struggles, their passion to pursue a dream, and the effort it takes to focus on and enjoy the experience of a new challenge and accept the outcome whatever it might be.My book, The Dance Dragon, is on Amazon now.Find me on Facebook and Twitter.
My interest in learning to dance was event driven. It started with my daughter, Caroline’s decision to marry. I was clueless on the dance floor. My goal was to surprise Caroline with my “dance expertise” at her wedding. The problem was I had been a lifelong dance avoider. My interest in writing a story about my dance experience began because so many people asked “Why do you dance?” I decided it would be easier for them to read my story rather than listen to me talk all night.I envisioned a short story about my clandestine search for a dance instructor, my naivete about all things dance related, and Caroline’s wedding. I knew for certain that I was not the first father of the bride who worried about leading his daughter on the dance floor. Maybe by sharing my experience with others I could bring a little fun into their wedding experience. When I finished a draft of my story I asked for feedback. I was told I had a sense of humor and an honest voice but that the father of the bride story has been told before. Readers would be more interested in hearing about my real reasons for dance avoidance and the journey of a man into the world of ballroom dancing. My short story evolved into a book that would introduce the reader to the people I met in the ballroom world, my struggles to learn, a trip to rural Cuba and ultimately Washington DC for a competitive dance performance.As I finished my first draft I wondered if I ever truly believed my publicly stated reason that “I had no rhythm” for avoiding dancing for years. While it is true that I lacked rhythm and a sense of musicality, my real reasons for dance avoidance were based on feelings of awkwardness, self-doubt and embarrassment. As I became more open about the real reasons, I was surprised that men sought me out and asked me questions. Some men told me they tried dancing but gave up, others said they did not have the time, or did not know how to get started. A few were honest enough to mention they feared dance because they, like me, did not want to make fools of themselves. I realized the story of my journey into the world of ballroom dance had an audience and a purpose. If I shared my story truthfully, perhaps some men would learn from my mistake.When my draft manuscript for the book was complete I asked 5-6 people to read excerpts and provide feedback. In a mix of direct, subtle, and brutal ways I was told my book was a research paper not a story. It had taken me 18 months to write my first manuscript but only several days to accept that my book lacked structure, flow, had too many characters, and was boring.I switched the theme of the book from men who could not dance to the women who helped me learn. Even men who do not dance enjoy watching women who can. I gave the story a clever title playing off everything I learned from the 3,000 women I had danced with and teased the imagination of the reader. I found a publisher who liked the story and thought with tweaks, we could publish. However, the feedback from people more familiar with me or dance thought the story was too choppy. They felt like I was I still holding back and there was no compelling ending. It had taken me a year to create my second manuscript but with that feedback, I dragged the file on my computer into the trash.I decided to do what I originally did not want to do. My third manuscript focused on myself. I shared my emotional ups and downs, the physical contact and intimacy of dancing, the discovery of my own long dormant urge to dance, and the sensations of joy and freedom that ballroom dance provides. The approach required that I be direct and honest with the reader about my own fear, represented by the dragon in my head, and describe my feelings in words as best I could . I shared an outline of the book with an editor/coach . I asked ten people to read yet another draft of my story. I asked them if they kept turning the pages and whether they would recommend the book. Their feedback kept me writing, I could do better, I had found my inner compass. When the third manuscript was done, I realized it had taken another 18 months.I have experienced firsthand what others have told me but I could never understand until I tried. Learning to dance and learning to write are hard. Writing a nonfiction novel is lonely, you must be selfish with your time, work hard at figuring yourself out, and you can rewrite a paragraph forty or fifty times before you are satisfied. Dancing is not lonely, but like writing you need to do things over and over to get it right and if you want to learn you must be willing to make a fool of yourself. Both activities have made me think about my two grown children. My daughter pursued a professional track in ballet for 12 years. My son is a journalist, something he aspired to be since he read his first newspaper. I now better understand their own struggles, their passion to pursue a dream, and the effort it takes to focus on and enjoy the experience of a new challenge and accept the outcome whatever it might be.My book, The Dance Dragon, is on Amazon now.Find me on Facebook and Twitter.
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