Attractive Gems

When I was nineteen, I was out for a run, and as sometimes happens when my mind is relaxed and wandering, I got an idea. In this case, it was an idea for a song. I heard the words and the melody clearly enough that I was able to sing it to myself by the time I was home and showering. This was new. Though I loved music, and always imagined I’d be able to write it, a song had never come to me so fully formed. When I heard it in my head, it was as if a band and orchestra were playing it.

Though I would soon learn that I was not really hearing all the instruments. I didn’t know what the drums or the bass or guitars and strings should be playing. Instead, I could feel what it would be like to listen to that song when it was properly performed and produced, a feeling so strong that I believed I was actually hearing it.

It was not until I was in my forties that I finally tried to compose and arrange the song. I had recently discovered I could use GarageBand to compose music, writing note for note what each instrument should play. I could also record my voice singing along with this digital band. My first efforts were startlingly disappointing. It was the right melody, but nothing meshed, and the drums were awkward and I didn’t know what the guitars should be doing and the bass was an absolute mystery to me. And then there was my singing voice. I sounded like a banker shouting advice to a client.

I set the song aside and attempted simpler tunes. I loved to compose, and over the years I eventually learned how to use drums and bass and horns, and about seventh chords and counter melody, and even how to sing a bit, at least well enough for what I wrote. I thought of that tune recently and decided to give it another go, and using all that I’d acquired over the intervening decade, I was able to record something that would have pleased my nineteen-year-old self.

My thirty-something year journey to bring the song to fruition is illustrative of the creative process. From the moment I heard it, I knew it was something I liked. But it existed where only I could appreciate and value it. Fortunately, it was this appreciation, which never dimmed, that allowed me to draw to me what I needed to write it. Skill and craft are very helpful, necessary even, but they are nothing without that gem of an idea that needs translating. Nothing, not time or skill or talent, can prevent me from making that idea real other than doubting its value – and even then, its value would remain intact, a diamond buried in the sand of fear.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com