What happened to the oral tradition?

I did a reading last night with my friend and fellow fiction writer, Toni Thayer. We read at Heights Arts (Cleveland Heights, OH) as part of Dobama Theatre’s First Mondays series, which usually features play readings and occasionally poetry readings. We were the first fiction writers to be featured. There were only about 15 people, but they were incredibly attentive and receptive. We each did a short question and answer after each story and people actually asked questions. All in all, it was a good evening. I only knew a couple of people in the audience, so it’s always nice to have your work be introduced to new people.
I’ve gone to a number of readings in the past few months as an audience member. Most recently, I went to a reading/book signing with Mary Doria Russell at The Lit in Cleveland. Now this is a woman who’s published four novels that have sold hundreds of thousands of copies. She’s been nominated for a Pulitzer Prizer. And I think there were about as many people at her reading as there were at mine. Why is it that you can get a ton of people for a play reading or a poetry reading but only a handful for a fiction reading? Is it because we think of fiction as a solitary occupation? I admire poets’ economy of language, but personally I’d rather hear fiction read than poetry. I think that’s because I “get” fiction in a way that I don’t “get” poetry.
I wish I had some amusing anecdote to share about the reading, but I don’t. I guess that’s probably best, since amusing anecdotes frequently involve personal humiliation, and personal humiliation is kind of a drag, you know?
Enough listening to me whine and babble. I’d much prefer if you went HERE and read some of my work. If you like it (or if you don’t), feel free to drop me an email.

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