Clean hands. Pure hearts.

We took the elevator down to the vault, not sure what we'd get to see. But I knew that's where they kept the treasures. I'd even seen a few of them before. F. Scott Fitzgerald's briefcase. The typewriter Joseph Heller used to write Catch-22.

Maybe you're not a geeky person like I am: I get very excited to think that my hand is touching the same thing someone great has touched. That, miles or decades or lifetimes apart though we may be,  we are somehow in the same place at the same time.

(The one time I was left alone with the Heller typewriter, it took all the self-control I could muster not to walk over and put my fingers on the keys. Self control, and a healthy fear of hidden security cameras.)

The Fitzgerald Ledger
But if you do ever have that same crazy sense of things, you'll understand why I was so excited. Elizabeth Suddeth, Director of the special collections at the University of South Carolina library, had pulled out F. Scott Fitzgerald's ledger. The one where he'd written every tiny detail of his life, as my old professor and friend Dr. Matthew Bruccoli used to tell us, because Fitzgerald believed one day he'd be famous.

The page I touched in the Fitzgerald ledger.

Go ahead. Touch it. 

Could I trust my ears? Had Elizabeth just told us we could put a finger on the ledger.

Didn't we at least need to wear those white cotton gloves?

"Clean hands. Pure hearts," was Elizabeth's response.

Turns out she and the library's archivists believe you take more care with documents and items if you're not wearing gloves. And, of course, we didn't rub our greasy hands all over the thing.

Rare first edition of Phillis Wheatley's poems, the first published book of poetry by an African-American.

The Thomas Cooper Society
One of my favorite volunteer activities is being a board member of the Thomas Cooper Society, an organization that supports these special collections at the university library. And not just because I occasionally get to go to the vault and see things that make my little nerd heart soar.

A more recent acquisition.

This business of collecting books and documents is so incredibly valuable. I know, because I've used some of these resources myself for documentaries I've worked on. As have other researchers, who come to this library from around the world.

You can learn more about the Irvin Department of Rare Books and Special Collections here. 

The joy of a live audience and collaboration

When musician Ayala Asherov first approached me about creating a work for children, I was excited but not sure how it would come together.

It turns out that working with Ayala and our other partner in crime, composer Dick Goodwin, has been one of the most delightful creative projects of my life.

Story and Chamber Music Concert
As Ayala described it, she wanted us to create something like Peter and the Wolf--a story with music--only a) shorter and b) written for a chamber group--so that schools could incorporate it more easily into classes and afford to host a performance.

So that is how I wound up imagining a story about a creature who might have trouble finding a dance partner. Porcupine. And how together, we created Porcupine Saves the Dance.

Dick Goodwin in the background on the left, Ayala Asherov in the foreground at the far right--the two composers preparing for our performance of Porcupine Saves the Dance.

Writing With Music in Mind
Collaborating with Ayala and Dick gave me some new perspectives as we worked out the story. Themes and ways to distinguish characters were important to the music.

At one point, I had written "Porcupine was discouraged." Dick asked if I could show what that looked like, so he could use music to illustrate it. Of course. It's what I should've done anyway.

But the music pushed me to get there.

"His shoulders slumped." Cue the oboe. 

"His needles drooped." A run of notes on the cello.

Then, "Porcupine sat down." Percussion.

The music, like images in a picture book, could also take the place of words. That was fun to work out. And to hear your story set to music is exciting.

Getting Story and Score to the Stage
We used an actor to read for our first few performances and I sat in the back of theaters, listening, thinking of ways to make it better.

I thought the actor was good. But Ayala believed, strongly, that I should read the story. "It's just different when you read it," she kept telling me. "You draw the kids in."

I wasn't so sure about that, but it's hard to say no to Ayala. That's why I'd gotten involved in this project in the first place. Ayala, the irresistible force. (Also needs to be said: Dick Goodwin is one of the most supportive and insightful people you could ever hope to work with.)

I had to admit, I sort of wanted to get in on the act.

In some ways, the music works the way illustrations do in a picture book.

Getting to Know Your Audience
Now, a great occasional treat for me is to read Porcupine Saves the Dance to a crowd of elementary-aged kids. They like the story and the music and the musicians. And then when they find out their narrator is the writer, they have so many questions for me. They seem genuinely excited to see a writer in person. How about that?

We had the old gang together this month to perform for around 150 kids.

And I got at least 140 hugs after.

Pretty incredible.

And not something you think about when you're scratching out lines and wondering if you'll ever get the words right.