Writing In The Leko's Light

When I worked in the theatre as a lighting designer, we primarily used two different types of lights to create the desired ambiance for a show.  Sure, there were also fillers like footlights, cycs, and strip lights. Each offered different areas of light and shadow, each focused on different details of the set, costumes, and emotion of each show.  But primarily, we used two distinctive types of lights to focus on the actors.

The first way to light the stage is with the Fresnel lens (a larger version is what lighthouses use).  It floods the stage in a wide, rich, warm glow, tossing light and shadow, making it easy to see the edges of the stage so the actors don’t fall off, and allowing them to blend their marks easily as they traversed the boards from left to right, up and down.  This equipment kept the actors lit well enough to see where they were going but not so much to enhance their performance with any specificity.  The audience was able to easily determine if they were a primary character or a member of the chorus.  However, because the light was so widely dispersed, it was often difficult to know whether a particular actor’s facial features matched the energy of their larger body language.  In the Fresnel’s light it's tough to see whether the actors are having a good time… if they believed the part they were playing… if they were committed to the work behind creating the script… or if it was just all an afternoon of innocent fun.

The second way to light the stage is with the Leko spotlight.  This type of instrument focuses light in a much more concentrated area, with a stronger center and more refined edges.  The shadows that appear around the actors is in greater contrast with the set pieces behind them, almost making them seem as if they are holographic images jumping forward to share their energy.  The audience could clearly see the character’s faces… the creases of a smile, the worry lines on a forehead, the sparkle in their eyes as they delivered their lines.  Lekos are also much hotter, allowing the actors to easily notice when they hit their marks (hot) or missed them (cold).  They were the guides that helped the actors really shine in their performances.  When an actor walks into a Leko’s light, there is no confusion about the motivation for an actor to succeed at their craft.  Standing in the Leko’s light is not for the tentative actor.  Leko spots are reserved for those who are fully engaged in their role, and their careers as professional actors.

I’ve come to understand that to be a successful author, I must light my author journey in a similar way.
When I first began writing and publishing, I approached the craft with a tentative energy.  It was a hobby I enjoyed, but not one I was sure I could find any tangible return on my investment of time and money.  I played at sharing my work at art fairs and with friends.  If I sold books, it felt like being given roses after a performance… I wasn’t sure I deserved them (carnations would have been more appropriate), but I was thrilled, just the same. 
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So, I kept at it, writing occasionally, publishing when I got around to it, listing my books on Amazon, but not pushing myself toward writing and publishing as a career.  It was a pastime, a hobby, a preoccupation.  I was lighting my writing stage with Fresnels.  I didn’t focus a great deal of energy on any particular aspect of what I was doing, nor did I look for mentors or conferences to enhance my understanding of playing the part of an author.  My set was warm, and well lit… but there wasn’t any real definition or edges for a reader comprehend the emotion or energy that propelled me. 

A while later, once I realized that I’d been seriously afflicted with a writing passion, and could no longer treat my writing obsession as a dalliance, I picked up a Leko and focused it on my writing as a career… as a business.  Once making the decision to light my show in a different way, my role became much clearer. 

I built a company with an LLC. This became the set before which I would dance and recite monologues through every performance.  I attended classes, got a degree, attended lectures, and rehearsed my part more often than is probably sane to admit.  I spent money on getting advice from the best editors I could afford.  I stayed awake nights working on a specific scene or dialogue to hone my craft with passionate intention and discipline.  I learned from other actors in my field and followed their cues for presenting my work in its best light.  I studied the often-persnickety marketing opportunities and did my best to perform well on their stages.  I set myself to designing an aesthetically pleasing and functional website that would offer more information for those interested in my special brand of performance, complete with coming attractions and personal appearance schedules. 

After spending time in the focus of the Leko’s lens, I realized it was where I was meant to be, and I became as serious as any Broadway veteran; running my lines, sewing new costumes, and presenting the best possible production at every venue that would have me… or rather, that I could afford to book myself on their marquee.  I never stopped to rest on my last great performance, instead taking risks with new stories, characters, and roles.  Some were standing room only performances, others were vast halls filled with crickets.  But I refuse to give up.
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Being a worthy star of a Leko’s light means working hard every day.  It means taking your craft seriously but remembering that you are a fickle human who sometimes forgets your lines and misses your marks… but you keep at it, laughing at your own silliness along the way. 

There are only so many Leko’s that will fit on the light rail.  You need to put in the effort to show your audience that you’re devoted to your craft and dedicated to writing the very best stories your imagination can create.  That includes doing all the backstage drudgery of building a writing business to keep your storytelling passion in the spotlight. 

It’s not for everyone, this furiously chasing the professional writing monster.  There’s nothing wrong with being comfortable in the gentle wash of the Fresnel’s unfocused warmth, as a hobby writer.  But you’ll need to decide, because if you don’t, you’ll have to endure the rejection of too many auditions without callbacks. 

So, what’ll it be?  The general warmth of the Fresnel hobby Writer, or the red-hot Leko spotlight of a small business Author?  How will your shadow fall on the page?  

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