Monthly Archive for November, 2011

Recently, I spoke on an author panel and had a terrifying moment where my past confronted my present. As I was sitting up there at the table alongside the other authors, waiting for the moderator to introduce me, a momentary feeling of panic seized me. What if my throat muscles froze and my voice wouldn’t come out? It’s a feeling I haven’t had in awhile, but that was all too familiar.

When I was growing up, I was considered painfully “shy,” though I strongly dislike that word. I would talk freely at home with my parents or with my friends, but when in social settings such as school, parties, or gatherings with extended family, I froze up. As much as I wanted to speak, the words literally would not come out. Classmates would say hi to me at the grocery store, and even though I wanted to respond, I couldn’t. My throat muscles just would not work, and too late, I’d raise my hand in a wave. I feared that the other kids considered me a snob or standoffish and they probably did, but I didn’t know what I could do about it.

Recently, I learned that there is a name for this experience and that it’s called Selective Mutism, which is defined as a disorder of childhood characterized by an inability to speak in certain settings, such as at school and in public places, despite speaking in other settings (e.g. at home with family.) It’s estimated that 1 in 1000 children referred for mental health treatment has Selective Mutism, however, several researchers have suggested that the true prevalence of SM in the general population is largely underestimated. There are even organizations that provides guidance and support with this disorder, including the The Selective Mutism Group ~ Childhood Anxiety Network and the Selective Mutism Network.

When I was growing up though, I pretty much had to get over this issue on my own. My elementary school was very concerned about my lack of speaking at first, until the psychologist observed me at my house and witnessed me talking and playing like any other child. I even said to my parents, “Why won’t that man go home?” I was sent to summer school before kindergarten and was pulled out of class for a year to work with other kids in a small group, but after that they said my problem wasn’t as serious as those of other children and that they could no longer give me these special services.

Although I was still considered “shy” in school, I managed to get by in social settings, except for when I needed to do oral reports before the class, and then I’d agonize over it. My freshman year in college, I was forced to take a speech class and give three presentations. I would worry myself sick the night before, and as I waited for my turn, my heart would pound, I’d sweat, and this clammy feeling would grip me. I hated speech class.

After graduating, I became a newspaper reporter of all things, and needed to be aggressive, interview people, and ask tough questions. Since I was usually interviewing people one-on-one or in a small group, I was able to do this – and do it well. I was still introverted at parties and you’d likely find me in a corner, but I’d enjoy talking to people. You just wouldn’t find me being the center of attention, and afterwards, I’d often feel drained from all of the interaction. I preferred being the center of attention on paper – through my newspaper byline, though what I really wanted was my name on book covers. Writing was the way I communicated best.

When I finally got my books published, boy, did it come as a surprise when I found that public speaking often goes hand-in-hand with being an author! I found myself speaking at libraries, bookstores, to book clubs, and on conference panels. I discovered five things –

1. That even though I was nervous, my physical reactions were much less extreme than during my college speech class, perhaps because I loved talking about books and writing.
2. That I preferred panels or speaking with at least one author to being up there alone. I did well when speaking alone…it just made me more nervous.
3. That I was far more nervous speaking before friends and relatives than to a room full of strangers.
4. That once the panel got going, I’d have fun and sometimes even be sorry when it was over.
5. That microphones were my best friend, as I didn’t have to worry about projecting my voice, and that having notes made me feel more confident. Not that I would read the notes verbatim, but glancing down at them was reassuring.

During the above presentation, I was a little more anxious than usual because I knew several people in the audience and it was also a large crowd. I was so relieved when my voice worked after all, and I felt myself relax. At one point, a movement out of the corner of my eye distracted me and I stumbled over my words when trying to wrap up my comments. I haven’t done that in awhile, and it threw me for a moment. I hate tripping over my words, though my always supportive husband assures me that having this happen can make the speaker feel less intimidating and more sincere and likable to the audience. Overall, though, I felt as if I’d done pretty well.

I guess I’ve come a long way since those childhood days of my voice freezing up and I suspect there will be a lot more presentations in my future, since I’m in the book business for the long haul. Now and then, I might get that irrational fear – what if my voice freezes? But I’ve learned that even though there is a small piece of that girl with Selective Mutism still inside me, with every book that I write and publish, the author part of me becomes more cool and confident and is now dominating my personality. I might worry that my voice will freeze, but rationally, I know it won’t. Not anymore. I’ve learned one important thing about myself since that psychologist came to my house and observed me when I was five – I’m a writer and I have something to say.