There's More Than One Way to Sing
When I was a little girl, my brother told me I couldn't carry a tune in a U-Haul. So I hit him.
When I was in my twenties, a good friend told me I was not allowed to sing in front of his child, in case she caught my tune.
When I was a Girl Scout leader in Harlem, I invited some friends to come to my girls' "fly up ceremony." Before these girls became scouts, they had never had the opportunity to swim, to do organized craft projects, or to sing Kum-bay-yah. I taught them every song that had ever moved me in the North Carolina mountains when I was a camper. After the ceremony my friends said, "We can tell you were the one who taught them the songs."
Guess what? I still love to sing. Unapologetically.
When I sing, I get endorphins. If there were a Richter scale of endorphins, and you measured the seismic affect of various things--sex, drugs, rock and roll--it's a no brainer: the music tops the list. There is something about singing your heart out, never mind the tune, that just makes you wiggle and jiggle and tickle inside. It's cathartic: it's spiritual: it's fun.
The good news for me is that I'm not trying to make living from my singing. I'd be pretty thin. I'm a book person. I should still be pretty thin, all things considered, but carbo-lading and Whole Foods' truffled walnuts will get you through the worst of times.
I have an ongoing discussion with a few important people in my life: music or lyrics? Of course, I am a card-carrying member of the lyrics camp. But I think I'm adulterated. I think the music influences my vote more than I'd like to admit.
Sunday was the anniversary of the day the music died. In honor of that, and in honor of all the times I said goodbye to Miss American Pie at my wild French cousins' house and sang along in my notable voice, I just want to say "Let's hear it for the band." It's never just about the lyrics. It's a synergy.
Synergy, synchronicity, serendipity, singing. "S"es abounding in my personal dictionary these days. And the beautiful thing about a dictionary is: you sing it to your own tune. There's no soundtrack. No one's done an orchestration of it. No glee clubs sing it. The words in my heart have a score that only I know.
I keep my tune in a U-Haul. Some--many--have been critical of it. But it keeps my toes tapping.
A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.
~A wise person who forgot to get a good IP lawyer
And, two more thoughts on music: if you are a friend of Bright Sky and you know Patrick, you have to check out his band, the Journey Agents. If you are at all funk based. And, if you have your own band and need to book some gigs in Texas, check out Matthew Wettergreen's free ebook. And if you need anyone to edit your songs, remember that there are lots of lyrics people who go both ways.
Words. Music. Wow. La dee da de dee. La dee da de da.
The writer's life is an endlessly glamorized affair that is riddled with assumptions of one sort or another. Writers are [choose one of the following] dark, tortured, drunks, inspired, touched by angels, different, geniuses, crazy...you name it.