Drummers and Such (Tara Taylor Quinn)

I was told this morning by someone who's supposed to know me well that I better be careful because I'm off the beaten path. (My words, the other's sentiment.) Somewhere along the conversation something was added about me belonging alone in my office writing my books. I was left feeling very alone and odd - hearing my different drummer and all. Especially because the opinion I was expressing makes such total sense to me. Logical sense. I thought about what I was saying, and what else was being said. I went on with my morning. And I looked around - at the business people in their cars and on their cell phones on the freeway, the construction workers building a new shopping complex, the policeman directing traffic where a new freeway loop in going in, the kids waiting for the school bus, the parents waiting with them, the bus driver and the dog walker, the retired couple out walking - and I wondered, are they all hearing the same drummer? One I can't hear?

I don't think so. (But that could just be my drummer beating!) I think we all hear slightly different beats, that's what makes us individual. Very few people look exactly alike, no two people think exactly alike, no one experiences exactly the same situations in a day let alone a lifetime, no one's feelings and reactions are identical, no one's taste buds are exactly the same! It occurred to me that those who don't hear a different drummer aren't listening to their drummer at all! It also occurred to me that what I received this morning was a compliment. I'm listening to my inner drummer. I'm living my life.

I don't mean this in a selfish way, or mean to imply, in any way, that my drummer is better than anyone else's. That's the whole point. Every one of us has a drummer that is completely equal to the drummer inside everyone else. And like with everything else in life, there are going to be downsides to this. But if we can come together with open minds - and hopefully open hearts - we can join our beats to make a harmony that is so strong, so powerful, we can never be out beaten. Think of the show Stomp. If you haven't seen it, and have a chance to, you absolutely should! It's an entire show of nothing but different beats. Beats on trash can lids, feet stomping - bare feet, booted feet, feet with tennis shoes and feet with taps, cymbols and drums and contraptions I'd never seen before, all coming together in different beats that take over the auditorium and enter the veins of every single individual there. You start to physically feel the beat beneath your skin - truly, there's a vibration that you feel inside. The entire room is joined by this beat that consumes the room and enters each one of you. And isn't that what our own beats are about? If we stay silent, let others tell us how to think or what to believe, how to act, aren't we silencing a vital part of the show?

Not to say we should go around yelling and screaming at the tops of our lungs. There's that part about creating harmony, not deafening noise. We have to listen to the beat of others so that we can play with them. And I suppose there will be drummers whose beat just doesn't belong in our show and we must move on. I don't know. Maybe my drum is on overload as I'm on deadline three times over and the book that I think has a chance to make a difference in the world hit the stands yesterday and my local Borders 'lost it' so it's not on the stands.

But I hope I'm not on overload. I want to play my drum in the show. Not as a soloist, but as part of something that vibrates through everyone, joining everyone.

That picture? How does it tie in? That's me up there. I'm fifteen years old. How many fifteen year olds do you know who spend every minute of their free time reading? Moreover, if you look closely, you'll notice that there are two books there and yes I read them both in that 'lying.' Furthermore, you'll notice that they're Harlequin Romances. When I was a teenager, I knew one other girl who read Harlequin romances - my best friend. She lived in another state. And whenever we got together, we'd bring our collection of favorites and read non-stop. In the picture I'm up in the hills in the outback of Michigan. I was there on vacation with my family, staying at the cabin on the Pere Marquette river that we owned. We had 17 acres, and were surrounded by thousands of acres of undeveloped land. The only way to see another soul was to drive twenty minutes into town. It was heaven on earth - a place to go and read from dawn until dusk with cool breeze and sunshine and birds singing and absolutely nothing to interrupt. My best friend was there with me. She took that picture. A perfect perfect moment that I will never forget. And yet, all of my friends back home, when they asked what I did on my vacation, made fun of me. Just as they did when I'd pull my books out on break at school. My mother used to tell me to get my nose out of those books. But I couldn't. Even then, I was listening to my drummer.

And look at me now. Five million copies of my own books sold. In print in more than 30 languages. I go into a bookstore in Paris and see my book on the rack. (I couldn't read it, but it was there!) I'm thinking I have a book on some shelves (minus my Borders) right now that actually might make a difference. It's getting USA Today support, got a starred review in Library Journal, is a Bookreporter.com Thriller/Suspense of the month. Booklist loved it. RT, the review magazine that generally doesn't appreciate my stuff, gave it their second highest reivew and glowed about it. Because it's different.

So...yeah. I guess I'm not 'normal'. I hope none of us are. I hope we can open our minds and our hearts, speak our own beat, and leave plenty of time to listen to the beats of others, too. I want to feel our collective vibrations. Don't you?