Dan Logan's Blog

     For five years, I wrestled with learning two skills. First it was dance and then it was storytelling.  I wanted to write a book about dance because when I started to dance I could not find a book that prepared me for my journey into the ballroom dance world. Learning to dance and then writing a story about that effort reminded me of what a dance partner once said “Dan, if you do not get frustrated with learning new things then you probably will not grow as a person yourself.”     Learning new things is hard. As a learner, you must be willing to expose your vulnerabilities, make mistakes, pick yourself up off the floor and accept the advice of teachers, mentors and peers. Learning takes energy. It can be as exhausting as it can be fun and satisfying. For me, it makes no difference whether I am practicing for a dance, seeking feedback on my story or learning to ski or play golf. I struggle whenever I experiment with new things. I also know if I want to learn in today’s world, I must also be willing to leverage new technologies or I will limit my potential. Without the Internet to search I could not have done the research necessary for my book. YouTube enabled me to view scores of videos and movie clips so I could grasp the timeless appeal and history of music and dance.     What makes dancing and writing a story like The Dance Dragon different from other learning efforts is the degree of personal and emotional experiences you must share. Like many skills, learning 8-10 different dances or writing sixty-five thousand word manuscripts requires motivation, energy, and a relentless desire to get better. However, as a dancer or a writer, you must also be honest with your audience and that means first being honest with yourself. You must learn to identify and express your inner thoughts and feelings openly to other people. As a result, dancing has taught me more about myself than I ever imagined.     Through dancing I learned to put my brain in neutral, focus on the physical experience of moving my body, listen to the music and free myself of any mental or visual clutter.I have learned to ignore the noise around me and listen more to my inner voice and the body language of the women with whom I dance. In my story, I refer to such freedom as traveling on a white cloud where peace of mind, lightness of movement and joy exist. Storytelling helped me realize the limit to the power of words. Dancing taught me that there are often better ways than words to communicate or connect with people     The Dance Dragon is a story about a secret deal I made with the person I was and the person I wanted to be. I agreed to make a fool of myself to slay a dragon so I would be free to discover the joy of dance. As the storyteller of The Dance Dragon I needed to balance the turmoil in my head as both the writer and lead character, with the curiosity of the reader as to why I would make such a deal with myself.  It took several years to find my authentic voice as a writer, become more aware of myself, and then feel the power of dance. Eventually I learned to capture in words the tension that existed in both my mind and body every time I walked onto the dance floor. I then tried my best to structure a simple story in a compelling way. Through trial and error, I found ways to create a flow and a pace to my story and to introduce some of the real-life characters that inspired me to persevere.     Learning to dance was a wake-up call for me. I revisited something I had avoided my entire life and discovered I had made a mistake. Writing a story about that mistake challenged my abilities to understand my own feelings about dance and music and verbally communicate those feelings to others. I now enjoy what I once feared and understand how and why that happened.  More importantly I was reminded that we must never stop learning new things, if we want to truly know ourselves.

I wrote The Dance Dragon because the book I needed to read on dancing before I walked into a dance studio had not yet been written. Here is my story.I was a lifelong dance avoider until my daughter’s wedding. My own wedding reception was held in a small bar on the lower East Side of Manhattan.  Part of our decision on the reception location was driven by economics and the need for an open bar for a few hours. I was also determined to select a location where there would be no chance of dancing. At my daughter’s wedding, the situation was different. It was her dream to have an outdoor wedding in a tent with a dance floor.  She was marrying a musician so there was no way there wasn’t going to be lots of music and dancing.  I was not going to spoil it by mentioning my fear of the Dance Dragon. So, I snuck off to a dance studio to learn. The more dance lessons I took in secret, the more I realized that I was not the only man who felt insecure about dancing.More than two million weddings occur in the United States each year. Many new husbands and fathers of the bride dread one major part of the event...the wedding dance. Most men will never admit it that they fear the moment when they walk onto the dance floor in front of their guests, and risk making a fool out of himself. Some, with the help of the bride to be, decide to take a few dance lessons.  Some even choose this route on their own, but more often they are the fathers of the bride.  Can they find the right dance instructor? Will the dance lessons make them more confident? How much will it cost?  These are some the questions men ask themselves. The Dance Dragon is the story of my attempt to secretly prepare for that dreaded wedding dance and what I discovered in the process.There is a big difference between preparing yourself for a single wedding dance and learning how to dance. I have not met anyone who could learn to dance in a few lessons.  However, with the help of a good instructor and an easy going dance partner, most men can learn enough about a particular dance or two to get through their wedding dance requirements. The dance world is complicated. The more you know about the culture of dance studios and the parameters within which instructors operate before you walk in the door, the more likely you will achieve your goal.My hope is people that read the book will benefit from my experience and maybe find the love of dance themselves.

Which one did you wish for during a high school date? The more I asked the question, regardless of their cultural background or age, the more I was surprised by the way most women reacted. Women wanted to know why I would ask such a personal question; they would say, “It depends.”  Mostly they found many ways to avoid a definitive answer.I would explain that I was writing a book on ballroom dancing and would appreciate an answer based on their personal experience. After asking dozens of women the question, I could not find a clear winner between a kiss or a dance. When I asked the same question to men, the answer was almost unanimously a kiss. The conversation with men about the question was also different. Men seldom talked about the romance or physical intimacy of dance. They preferred to talk about sex. Dancing was simply not a top of mind topic among men.The crowd at most ballroom dance studios skews female. Dance students often wonder why. There is no one simple answer. Some men are raised with an emphasis on sports and controlling or masking their emotions, at least in public. Changing their behavior once becoming an adult is not easy. Men see dancing in front of women as a potential risk to the male ego. The women they observe on a dance floor are more comfortable and better prepared for dancing. Women credit the music and dance activities of their youth, the value they place on romance, and their willingness to express their emotions as reasons for their interest in dance. Women tell me the combination of music, body movement, human touch, eye contact, and smiles that dance provides can be as satisfying as any kiss. Men who dance would not disagree with this assessment.What can be done to close the perception gap and get more men on the floor?Women tell me most men do not give ballroom dance a chance and need to spend more time trying. Men need to check their ego at the door. Men tell me women could be less intimidating and perhaps more playful. They say, if women believe music, physical intimacy and body movement of dance is as desirable as a kiss than perhaps they need to tease their male partner and find clever ways to demonstrate their point.  What would you suggest?My novel, The Dance Dragon, that details my own dancing journey is available now on Amazon.

Most people who take dance lessons will tell you the hardest thing to do is to is to walk into a dance studio. I did not laugh when my friend Jane told me it took her nine years. I simply said, wow, as I was truly impressed with her courage. Lots of people say they want to learn to dance, but only a small percent actually try.Like most first time students, Jane did not know anyone when she walked through the door and she had no idea what to expect. She struggled, but persevered. Today, Jane shows up at different studios, dances with both friends and strangers, and supports people who remind her of her past mindset.It took me eight months after my daughter decided to get married to visit a dance studio. Normally, I do not  procrastinate. I wanted to marry Eileen before we dated and officially asked her eight months later. Some men are afraid to commit to marriage;  others like me were afraid to commit to dance lessons. For months I asked myself: how would I learn to dance?  Who would I ask for advice? Where could I go? I had no male friends who took dance seriously. I visited studios online and read the reviews and testimonials but I was skeptical of website claims and social media..As I moved towards the studio door the first time, I had a budget in my head, told myself to focus on finding the right the instructor and and promised myself that after the wedding, I would be done with dancing. I saw a dance lesson as comparable to going to the dentist. I had vague recollections of the person Arthur Murray and the early days of television but assumed he must be dead. The website was not that informative. It provided no resumes or photos of the instructors. I was suspicious, but desperate.Her posture was the first thing I noticed as she approached me and introduced herself. After an exchange of pleasantries, Melissa asked me to dance. She was light on her feet. Dancing is unusual in that it almost instantly required physical intimacy with a total stranger, a person of the opposite sex. Questions raced through my mind. Could I communicate honestly about dance with this stranger? Was I willing to make a fool out of myself in front of her?  Did I really want to follow through with this? My answer to all three questions was yes. I had jumped into the water and after all that effort, I was determined to learn to dance.When I dance with beginner students, they ask me questions about the studio, the people on the dance floor or how long it took me to be comfortable. I remind them that the hard part is over, they are dancing. My advice to them is simply to focus on finding the right instructor, talk to other students first hand about their experiences, and remember that almost everyone dancing came through the door somewhere as a beginner. No one would be critical of them.If you’d like to hear more about my journey into dancing, you can pick up a copy of my book, The Dance Dragon, at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Google Books.

One day I decided to do something I never wanted to do: learn to dance. A year later, I decided to do something else I never thought I could do: write a book . Life seems to work that way. Either we get up in the morning and try to accomplish something new or we take a pass and move on. It is our choice.My interest in learning to dance was event driven. It started with my daughter, Caroline’s decision to marry. I was clueless on the dance floor. My goal was to surprise Caroline with my “dance expertise” at her wedding. The problem was I had been a lifelong dance avoider. My interest in writing a story about my dance experience began because so many people asked “Why do you dance?” I decided it would be easier for them to read my story rather than listen to me talk all night.I envisioned a short story about my clandestine search for a dance instructor, my naivete about all things dance related, and Caroline’s wedding. I knew for certain that I was not the first father of the bride who worried about leading his daughter on the dance floor. Maybe by sharing my experience with others  I could bring a little fun into their wedding experience. When I finished a draft of my story I asked for feedback. I was told I had a sense of humor and an honest voice but that the father of the bride story has been told before. Readers would be more interested in hearing about my real reasons for dance avoidance and the journey of a man into the world of ballroom dancing. My short story evolved into a book that would introduce the reader to the people I met in the ballroom world, my struggles to learn, a trip to rural Cuba and ultimately Washington DC for a competitive dance performance.As I finished my first draft I wondered if I ever truly believed my publicly stated reason that  “I had no rhythm” for avoiding dancing for years. While it is true that I lacked rhythm and a sense of musicality, my real reasons for dance avoidance were based on feelings of awkwardness, self-doubt and embarrassment. As I became more open about the real reasons, I was surprised that men sought me out and asked me questions. Some men told me they tried dancing but gave up, others said they did not have the time, or did not know how to get started. A few were honest enough to mention they feared dance because they, like me, did not want to make fools of themselves. I realized the story of my journey into the world of ballroom dance had an audience and a purpose. If I shared my story truthfully, perhaps some men would learn from my mistake.When my draft manuscript for the book was complete I asked 5-6 people to read excerpts and provide feedback. In a mix of direct, subtle, and brutal ways I was told my book was a research paper not a story.  It had taken me 18 months to write my first manuscript but only several days to accept that my book lacked structure, flow, had too many characters, and was boring.I switched the theme of the book from men who could not dance to the women who helped me learn. Even men who do not dance enjoy watching women who can. I gave the story a clever title playing off everything I learned from the 3,000 women I had danced with and teased the imagination of the reader. I found a publisher who liked the story and thought with tweaks, we could publish. However, the feedback from people more familiar with me or dance thought the story was too choppy. They felt like I was I still holding back and there was no compelling ending. It had taken me a year to create my second manuscript but with that feedback, I dragged the file on my computer into the trash.I decided to do what I originally did not want to do. My third manuscript focused on myself. I shared my emotional ups and downs, the physical contact and intimacy of dancing, the discovery of my own long dormant urge to dance, and the sensations of joy and freedom that ballroom dance provides. The approach required that I  be direct and honest with the reader about my own fear, represented by the dragon in my head, and describe my feelings in words as best I could . I shared an outline of the book with an editor/coach . I asked ten people to read yet another draft of my story. I asked them if they kept turning the pages and whether they would recommend the book. Their feedback kept me writing, I could do better, I had found my inner compass. When the third manuscript was done, I realized it had taken another 18 months.I have experienced firsthand what others have told me but I could never understand until I tried. Learning to dance and learning to write are hard. Writing a nonfiction novel is lonely, you must be selfish with your time, work hard at figuring yourself out, and you can  rewrite a paragraph forty or fifty times before you are satisfied. Dancing is not lonely, but like writing you need to do things over and over to get it right and if you want to learn you must be willing to make a fool of yourself. Both activities have made me think about my two grown children. My daughter pursued a professional track in ballet for 12 years. My son is a journalist, something he aspired to be since he read his first newspaper. I now better understand their own struggles, their passion to pursue a dream, and the effort it takes to focus on and enjoy the experience of a new challenge and accept the outcome whatever it might be.My book, The Dance Dragon, is on Amazon now.Find me on Facebook and Twitter.