I was hit in the face the other day by the realization that I am quite blind to my surroundings, especially in regards to the people who surround me. It's not that I'm particularly impaired; I use my contact lenses and I know that I have exceptional hearing. Looking and listening, however, are not apparently not as easy as seeing and hearing.
I have Chorus in the morning at school, and that day, several out of the group were preparing to audition for the District-level chorus festival. Sitting in the auditorium where we rehearse, my friends and I were listening to the auditionees perform solo for our director, who then offered comments on how to improve. This is what transpired:
Up to the piano walks a girl from the soprano section (the highest voices), where the director gave her the starting note and told her to begin. This girl is among my close friends, one of the kindest people this world has ever seen, and quite a genius (she skipped two grade levels). She is a fantastic pianist (better than I could ever hope to be) and I've always known that she can sing.
Well. Here she comes and sings that audition piece so beautifully it made my spine tingle with musical delight. She has an amazing ability to hit the high notes with an indescribably pure tone that is rarely heard among high school sopranos. Adding to my amazement was the fact that she even managed to make the music beautiful, since the audition piece itself is possibly the worst piece of choral music ever written.
I turn to another friend of mine, sitting next to me, and I say, "My God, that was beautiful! I loved the purity of it! I've never heard her sing by herself before!"
To this, I do not get the respose I expected. Instead of enthusiastic agreement, I get, "What do you mean you've never heard her sing before! She sings by herself all the time! (So she does.) You yourself accompanied her audition for last year's musical! (Indeed I did.) She sang a solo in last year's musical! (I remembered she had.) You are sooo blind, Max." I guess I am.
I was utterly shocked. I knew this girl was a good singer. I knew she sang in last year's musical. But this was the first time I actually, truly listened to her voice. What have I been missing?
This is but one example of a phenomenon that has occurred to me many times. I will not notice something significant for the longest time, and then, WHAM--I get it, way too late. Why am I so blind? What do I miss in that time before my belated revelations? What am I missing right now?
Most good writers have something very specific in common--they notice things. I've read and heard many times that good writing is all about keen observation. I think that I am a great pretender. My prose can act like it's good, but what does my writing really amount to? My ability to spell accurately, use correct grammar, and employ precise word choice means nothing against what I lack: Open eyes, open ears, and an open heart. That is what writing is all about.