Too many mass shootings have happened this year. One is too many—and any number is dizzying and makes everything else seem unimportant. Issues of life and death put everything else in perspective. Sometimes I don’t feel inspired to write. Sometimes I have so many feelings it is impossible to write about them. Why bother?
I grew up in the 1960s in the South . . . in Alabama. Being a child during that decade, I could not fully understand the political or racial issues playing out around me. I heard and saw snippets on the news about Gov. George Wallace, bus boycotts, freedom marches, and segregated lunch counters. Of course, the elementary school I attended was segregated. It wasn’t until my sixth-grade year in 1968-69 that schools in our town were desegregated. There was not a huge change at my school, only a few African American children switched schools that year. The following year the entire city was redistricted which meant many students went to schools they were not expecting to attend. It did not change the school for me—however this greatly enlarged the number of students and included kids who were from other areas of town besides my own. This change included more well-to-do families as well as black families.
We have a window box under our kitchen window. I am sure past owners must have planted lovely flowers there, I imagine the foliage being colorful and cheerful. For a number of reasons I have never planted anything there. The overhang all around our house is four feet deep and anything planted next to our house never gets watered unless I go out and water it. The house siding is board and batten . . . wouldn’t watering something on the house inevitably get the siding wet? Water is not good for wood on the outside of a house.
From the moment in November 2006 when I decided to become a songwriter my life had a purpose and a goal. Although I could dimly see my destination, I was on a day-to-day journey not knowing exactly what was next. Going to Blue Ridge Song Camp was a huge step on that journey.
After my trip to Nashville, for the Song Camp 201 in May 2007, I began voice lessons with Ron Browning. He is a vocal coach who was, at the time, also a teacher at the Nashville Jazz Workshop. In June, he was going to be on the faculty at the Blue Ridge Song Camp. Although I had only had four lessons with Ron, I already deeply respected his opinions and advice. He urged me to attend.
I drove to Nashville on Thursday, March 29, 2007 for the NSAI Songwriter Symposium. The night before I left, I read my pastor’s sermon from the previous Sunday about providence. It convinced me to be on the lookout for providence during my trip—and assume that everything that happened and everyone I met was providential. That idea changed how I perceived the people and events around me.
Every day can be a day of creativity. Many people say they feel more alive and are happier when they are creating. We need to create every day to build our creative muscles. It would be good to just simply dive into some project, but what doubt or fear keeps us from being creative?
I left for Nashville Saturday, February 17, 2007 about midday. For the song camp we were told to bring three songs for critiques but, I had five songs on my CD because I wasn’t sure which ones I wanted to share. As I got to the north side of Birmingham I slid the CD into the player and listened intently.
Being around other songwriters, having classes with pro writers, and hearing live music in classes and concerts was life-changing. Some of the best advice I received was when someone told me, “The only one who’s seen the world through my eyes is me. That is special and unique.”
Staring at a blank canvas or page can be intimidating. Can you make tangible the images, words, or notes in your head? In your mind’s eye? In your imagination? It takes courage to believe in yourself and let your true inner voice be heard.
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