When I Was Little . . .

I promised to tell how this all started,

How I got into writing music,

How I came to enjoy making music so much,

How it became such a part of me that I couldn't stop.

The story begins when I was much younger.

I had a friend.

She was just learning to play the clarinet in her school's band.

I had been taking flute lessons.

We both liked to sing.

The two of us decided that our musical knowledge qualified us to start a band.

Yes, a band -

The kind we listened to on the radio,

Like ZOEgirl, Steven Curtis Chapman, and Nichole Nordeman -

The two of us, with a flute and a clarinet.

Yeah.

It was nice to have such an incredibly active imagination.

Anyway, I figured that if we were going to start a band, someone would have to write some music.

After all, there are copyright laws that would prevent us from singing someone else's music.

I had written poetry before.

In fact, I used to quite enjoy writing poetry.

I figured I would write the music,

So, I sat down at a computer keyboard and typed.

I probably ended up writing about twenty-plus songs,

Lyrics neatly typed,

Melodies stored in my brain, retrieved by reading the lyrics.

Both had come together,

I only needed the one to remember the other.

I was pretty excited to have written all those songs,

So I printed out the lyrics and started singing them to whoever would listen.

After a while, I got the impression that people didn't really like my songs.

Well, maybe they liked them a little, but not too much.

After all, I was just a little kid,

Standing around singing words from a sheet of paper,

A capella,

Interrupting whatever it was they had been doing before I came along.

So I stopped writing.

Yes, that's right.

I stopped.

I didn't think anyone thought my music was any good,

I started to agree with them,

And I stopped.

Somewhere, there is still a file with all of my old lyrics,

Everything I wrote before I stopped.

I don't even know where it is,

Don't remember most of what I wrote.

Every now and then, however,

One of those songs will pop into my head . . .

     Yesterday was a spot on the windshield,
     Yesterday was a bump on the road, . . .

Maybe someday I'll find that file,

Read all of those songs again.

Someday.

Not today.

Well, that's how the story begins,

How I got into writing music.

Unfortunately, I can't tell the whole story in one day.

I wouldn't have anything to write about the rest of the week.

(Well, I'm sure I'd find something.  Still, it's more fun this way.)

So there will be more to come,

Tomorrow.




This post is the second in a multi-part series.  The other posts can be read via the links below.
     Part 1 - #150
     Part 2 - When I Was Little . . .
     Part 3 - Favorite Artists and Favorite Instruments
     Part 4 - . . . And Then it Happened
     Part 5 - The Way I Was Made 
     Part 6 - Faithful from Beginning to End