So, it’ s been a year.
When I decided to try songwriting, I promised myself I’d pursue it for a year. It was — more or less — a leap of faith. I had no idea if I’d have what it took to keep it up. I had no idea if I’d have what it took to even be decent at it. I had no idea.
As of today, I look back and I believe I have found my niche.
This is not an easy thing to admit. For a long time, I’d thought I already had “found my place.” I thought I found it in classical music. In jazz. In folk music. And I thought I’d found it in writing, first in technical essays, and later, in short stories.
Looking back, I see a big difference.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: writing was work. As a child, I never imagined that I would become an author. Not until my creative writing prof in college mentioned it had I even considered the option. I put in long hours at the computer working to wrestle the words where I wanted them. Eventually, it made sense… Even though most days felt like I was pulling my own teeth…
Music was always my first love, even when I came to terms with the fact that I didn’t have the drive — or physical prowess — to become a concert musician. The first thing I notice about a place is the sound. The first thing I notice when talking to someone is the cadence and song in their speech. I go through my days listening to an internal radio, and break into song on occasion…
See? Big difference.
Looking back, I realize that every little step led me here. Writing a song feels as easy as breathing. Now I walk through my day listening to lyrics-in-progress, to melodies I’ve discovered in this crazy brain of mine. There’s work and sweat, yes, but it’s not like pulling teeth.
So, today, I look back and realize that this is it. This is worth so much more than one year.
It’s worth a lifetime.