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Three Lessons Learned in 2025

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At the close of this year, I am reflecting on lessons I learned in 2025. As I get older, it becomes more difficult to find new things I learned, versus re-experiencing old adages that I have known for quite a while. However, 2025 did teach me some new things, at least in ways that seem new to me. Because even though I am a bit older, I am still an “emerging” composer, still experiencing “firsts” in my music career. So, here are three lessons I learned in 2025.

First Lesson Learned in 2025

Opportunities come from unexpected places.

We are familiar with the adage, “you reap what you sow” which means that if you plant beans, you will harvest beans, not squash. But this isn’t necessarily the case in art careers. We know that success is not linear. But it also doesn’t necessarily come directly from what we’re working on.

In early 2026, a couple of professional orchestras will perform my work. In January, the South Bend Symphony will perform my piece Daughter of the Stars, for string orchestra. The Arkansas Philharmonic will perform my piece Arethusa in February. I sought out neither of these opportunities. Along the way, I submitted my scores to various calls, but none of the calls involved either of these ensembles. I knew about South Bend because I interviewed their principal oboist, Jennet Ingle, on my podcast in 2022 when I first started it. But I didn’t even know the Arkansas Phil even existed.

While I was quietly doing my thing, Jennet put my piece forward as a selection for a concert she curated. I had no idea until the decision had been made and the orchestra librarian reached out to me to purchase the score and parts!

Then, truly out of the blue, Rob – a friend I had been in high school band with and hadn’t talked to in 30 years! – reached out to me, asking for a score that he could share with the maestro at Arkansas Phil. Completely unbeknownst to me, Rob was on the orchestra’s board of directors.

I am exceedingly grateful to both Jennet and Rob for putting my name and my work forward.

It was a total surprise, because like I said, I was not trying to pursue these opportunities or in any way “make” them happen.

I believe that you have to be doing “the work” in order to have opportunities, but the type or timing of opportunities that arrive can’t always be predicted. When opportunity knocks, you need to be dressed and ready to go as if you’ve been expecting the opportunity all along!

Second Lesson Learned in 2025

Growth can take place underground and unseen – for a long time.

I’m a gardener, and there is a phenomenon with perennial plants. The saying goes, “First year, sleep; second year, creep; third year, leap!” Essentially, when you first put a perennial plant in the ground, you should not expect to see much happening. It takes time, because the roots grow first and establish the plant. That can take a couple of years. You might see a little growth the 2nd year, but it is not until the 3rd year (and sometimes later) where the plant is fully grown and bursts with flowers or fruit.

This happened when I planted raspberries. Raspberries notoriously take over, but it’s not noticeable at first. The first year I planted ten canes. In the second year, twenty canes grew up. The third year, one hundred canes emerged, beyond the fence and twenty feet away from where I originally planted them.

This idea applies to pieces, too, but the process can take longer. And, like plants, the pieces need tending.

I wrote Daughter of the Stars in 2018.

I recorded it and submitted it to various calls for scores. The North/South Consonance premiered it in 2019. It won 2nd place in the 2020 American Prize for Composition (pops/light music division.) The pro recording I made was presented at the online Society for Composers Inc national conference when it was held online during the COVID shutdowns. I placed it on the Texas Prescribed Music List. It was performed at the 2023 Georgia All-State Festival. One high school group took it to Carnegie Hall when they participated in a festival there. I’ve made a few sales online through MyScore at JW Pepper, but because of the way things are done, I have no idea who purchased them or if the piece even got performed.

It also got rejected a bunch of times.

I saw a little growth, but I had no idea how much was really happening. The performance by South Bend Symphony is a big deal because, to my knowledge, it will be the 1st concert to include my work where an audience member must buy a ticket to attend.

I wrote Arethusa in 2023, which wasn’t as long ago. But it has faced bigger hurdles. Many times, the piece did not fit the available instrumentation in a Call for Scores, so I could not submit it. And the ones I did submit it to? Rejected, rejected, rejected. It won 2nd place in the Reno Pops Orchestra 2024 Composer’s Showcase, but the performance fell through. Then more rejection.

On the surface, nothing was happening. Nothing.

This only made Rob’s phone call and the resulting upcoming performance by the APO so much sweeter. It will be the first performance of one of my pieces be a full orchestra.

You can’t give up. It is very hard to look at bare soil for a long time. But you must keep believing that because you have been faithful to plant and water that the seed will grow.

Someone might even come along and help you water it!

Third Lesson Learned in 2025

If you want to be an artist, you must do what’s good for your art.

This is probably a “reinforced” lesson, not a new one. But it is relevant, none the less.

Every time I write a new piece, I have another plant in my garden. They each need attention. Are they getting enough water, enough light? Are weeds growing up and threatening to smother them? I keep nurturing my pieces by making sure I submit them to Calls for Scores, that I continually seek out performances, that I keep mentioning them to people who could perform them. I can’t forget about them just because I added a new piece to the catalog.

Maintaining my creative environment is also important. Is the soil good for growing plants?

Just over a year ago, I moved out of the “city” further into the “country.” Instead of being in a townhouse amidst a lot of stores, cars and traffic lights, I’m now in a small house on a half-acre. It takes me longer to get to church and school, but the drive is worth it.

Now, no matter what direction I look, I can see mountains. I find the landscape very inspiring, and I believe it helps me be more productive.

Is it a coincidence that these opportunities have shown up since I moved? Julia Cameron, who wrote The Artist’s Way, would say no. She calls this synchronicity. I did something for my art, and “the Universe” rewarded me.

I hope these lessons I’ve learned from 2025 inspire you in your artistic journey. Don’t give up. Keep nurturing your art, even when you can’t immediately see growth. It might pop up where you aren’t expecting it, like the raspberries on the other side of the fence far from where I planted them.

What creative projects are you working on? Let me know in the comments!

Is “Practice” a Dirty Word?

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I recently read a post on Substack by Ted Gioia (of The Honest Broker), who writes on music and culture and is a past faculty member at Stanford.

His article a few weeks ago outlined a few complaints he had about music education, specifically in the realm of private lessons, and I felt they needed a rebuttal. So, here it is.

Ted believes that kids lose interest in music lessons as they get older because there are inherent problems in the way that music is taught. I will not disagree completely with that idea, but I will make a caveat that it depends on the kid.

The biggest complaint I have about Ted’s arguments however, is that he makes claims that do not make sense when comparing music to sports. Many of my students have straddled participation in sports and music in elementary school but, in high school, decided to go the sports route. If Ted’s complaints about music education were correct, kids would also quit sports for the same reasons.

Let me explain.

This is Ted’s first complain, in his own words:

“(1) The first problem is that they’re called lessons. Music-making is fun, but music lessons are something very different. The first change I’d make is eliminating the word lesson from my vocabulary. I’d get rid of the word practicing too.

And fortunately we already have a better word—it’s called playing. You play your instrument, and the experience is one of fun and playfulness.”

Yes, we play music, and sports enthusiasts play sports.

But I played on the school basketball team in 8th grade, and basketball practice was called practice. And we did boring things like run laps around the court. And we did hard things like agility drills. And, yes, they were called drills.

We didn’t do those things because they were “play” or because we found them “fun,” We did them because we trusted our coach to make us better players, and he said we needed to do these things if we wanted to get good and win games.

And when kids practice scales and arpeggios and etudes on their instruments, it is because they believe the teacher when they teacher says these exercises will make them better players.

The problem is not drills or practicing or hard or boring things. Practice is not a dirty word.

It’s about whether or not the student believes that these things will get them to where they want to be. Maybe some kids just don’t want to get that good and play at a level that demands this kind of practice.

I quit basketball. I didn’t care enough and music was more important to me.

This is Ted’s second point”

(2) Music carries the heavy baggage of the entire education bureaucracy, and this makes everything boring and burdensome. As Paul Graham has rightly pointed out, the single biggest impact of early education is to convince students that hard work is pointless and should be avoided at all costs. Too much of homework and testing is designed solely for the purpose of convincing a teacher of your competency. The idea that you might work hard for your own benefit is never taught in school, and many people never realize that important fact.

Music lessons suffer because they rely on similar metrics, and are often integrated into our bureaucratic educational system. So even something intrinsically fun (like music-making) starts to feel burdensome.

I honestly have to say I don’t even know what he is talking about here. What metrics? The metrics of practicing a lot so you can win an audition in the local regional or state-wide youth orchestra that you find fun to be in? I would say that kids in music DO learn that they get personal benefit from learning music.

That is, as long as their teacher gives them some agency, and most do!

Kids who learn the pieces they want to learn or work towards goals they want to achieve realize they are getting themselves there with hard work and proper guidance.

Ted’s 3rd complaint:

(3) Parents are part of the problem—maybe the biggest part. Suzuki, the great music education innovator, realized this early on. He found that parents imposed all sorts of negative attitudes on to their children. They yelled at them to practice more. They sat in judgment at recitals. They had vague ambitions about how their children’s performances would enhance their own status. Etc.

Is this not also a problem in sports? How many times have we heard parents scream at their kids for not catching a ball or making a mistake on the field? How many times have parents ended up in the news for making a scene at a kid’s sports game? Perhaps it has died down in recent years (or maybe others news has become more important given the political climate…)

But it is ingenuine, in my opinion, to claim that this is a problem in music when it is a problem in all categories of life. Sure, kids that feel pressure from parents may want to quit anything. But why is this a problem in music education? Couldn’t this also be why kids want to quit school or sports or working for the family business?

Ted’s complaint #4:

(4) The endless round of recitals, auditions, and competitions create a perfection-driven culture that diminishes—and often kills—the sheer joy of music-making. Ethnomusicologists have studied many societies where everybody participates joyously in music-making—but that only happens when you don’t have auditions and competitions to weed out poor performers. If the goal is to enhance your inner joy and satisfaction, you would do things very differently.

Endless round of recitals, auditions and competitions? I suppose when the entire year is considered, there is always something to be preparing for, whether it is a spring recital or early fall auditions for local ensembles or late-fall auditions to All-State or early-winter applications to summer music festivals.

That’s IF – and a huge IF – the student is playing at a high level and wants to get into these ensembles and festivals and so forth. It is certainly not a requirement that the average music student do all this competing!

And if the teacher requires it, time to find a new teacher!

This is a parent problem if they don’t find an appropriate teacher for their kid.

That said, all the preparation for competitions is a great preparation for life. For adulthood.

There are always deadlines at work. Does everyone want to quit their job because of them? Or do some people understand that there is an ebb and flow and some weeks or months are extra stressful because of looming deadlines and accept it as part of the job?

But, even more – aren’t SPORTS full of competition? Isn’t that the WHOLE POINT of being involved in sports – to try to win? People don’t just get on the field and run around aimlessly. Even if it is a good-natured game where it doesn’t matter who wins, the teams do try to win.

To say that music is all about competition is also terribly ignorant. There are many, many ensembles that are “no audition” ensembles. Community orchestras, bands and choruses for youth and adults can be found in most places.

They are one big team “winning” by learning and performing music together.

One of my favorite things about music is that no one is left on the bench. The whole ensemble plays together. If you are in an ensemble, you are always with the ensemble, even when you have measures of rest, even if you are not the best.

(OK, I know, I know. Depending on the ensemble, some pieces do not use all the forces. So let’s just think one piece at a time.)

And, let me be frank. I have been in groups where some people are not trying to improve (sports or music or group assignments in school or group projects at work.) Those people are wasting everyone’s time.

We should all be in competition with ourselves to be a better person than we were yesterday.

Competition is not a bad thing, in and of itself.

Ted’s complaint #5:

(5) The ultra-intense hype on music lessons as building blocks of high educational achievement just aggravates the situation. Sure, I believe all the hype about the links between music-making and improved academic performance. Music probably does activate and nurture the same part of the brain you use for math and science. You probably do get better grades if you’re a focused, dedicated musician. But this kind of attitude treats the music itself as a negligible byproduct, instead of celebrating the intrinsic joy of music-making.

If you learn music for this reason, you will never get the greatest benefits from it, which can’t be reduced to a GPA or SAT metric.

NO ONE is telling little 6yr old Johnny, “Dear, you need to study piano so you can grow up and ace your SATs.”

The argument for the academic benefits of music are aimed at adults, because we’re trying to keep funding for music education in public schools. Even if this is the reason parents put their kids in music lessons, they are not trying to explain this to their little kids who would have no idea what they’re talking about.

And if it is the only reason why parents are keeping their children in music lessons when their kids have no interest, see point #3.

Finally, Ted’s complaint #6:

(6) The Western classical music tradition is amazing, and I cherish it every day of my life, but an educational system that just focuses exclusively on scrupulously playing note-for-note compositions written by people who died long ago is a mistake. If you want to convince people that music is stagnant, you couldn’t find a better method. Let’s keep Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, and all the rest—I love them dearly; but let’s also embed them into a larger practice that is alive and vibrant.

I have to mention here that Ted is a jazzer. So, there is a bias here against the classical approach to playing every note exactly right the way the composer wrote it.

That said, there is some truth here. Classical music is still alive and well, but the system has focused on the music of dead, white men instead of what is happening now, and instead of broadening the variety of historical composers’ work.

However, that is slowly changing. Every day, new ensembles are formed that focus on performing new and lesser-known historical works. Organizations exist, like the Boulanger Initiative, that work to bring attention to women composers or composers of under-represented groups.

I find that Ted’s 6th point is two-fold, though. One point is about the “dead composers.” And the other point is about “playing every note exactly right.”

Here, we have to be careful not to denigrate the focus on playing every note scrupulously well. While I think it is important to protect the minds of young people against perfectionism, the exactness of classical music is incredible mental training.

Paying attention to so many details is a very high-level skill, and it is something that is demanded in many fields. We want our surgeons and engineers to have that level of precision!

And, classical music is not the only “fun” area where precision is judged. Think about gymnastics or figure skating where competitors are judged on how they land a jump.

So, again, it is not right to point these things out as problems in music education when they are part-and-parcel of many areas of life including other “fun” things like sports.

Not only are these things not real problems, many of them are incredibly beneficial.

The fun is in figuring out the puzzle. The fun is in the problem solving. The fun is in conquering what you can’t do today. The fun is being able to say, “I can do that.”

Music lessons help kids with this.

The question is whether or not kids want to study music, and whether or not they are with the right teacher. Don’t force them to study music if they’re not interested. And find them the right teacher if they are.

Guest Post: Shifting Gears – Driving Over Mountains & Driving a Music Business

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The following is a guest post by a new acquaintance and fellow musician, W. Paul Pulsipher. He suggested a collaboration, part of which involves swapping blog posts, and I said, “Why not?” So, here it is. Paul’s essay is a testimony of how his adventures in pursuing his goals in music business have parallelled his faith journey. You can find his contact information at the end of the essay.

The last several years of my musical career have taken some unexpected turns for me. I’ve been playing piano for over 30 years, writing music for almost as long, I do amateur guitar, a little vocals and percussion. Anyone who’s been doing music for as long as I have should know by now to expect the unexpected when you are trying to accomplish something you’ve never done before. After you’ve learned to drive and you take your first big road trip you notice things about the journey that you never would have if you were only the passenger. The same thing has happened with me recently in both long distance driving and in trying to drive my music business forward; and before I really dive in, let me clarify there will be a lot of “we had plans and then God had better plans” throughout this.

When I began my Associates Degree in Music Recording Technology at Salt Lake Community College, I found out that I would need to take two music business classes in order to complete the program. I thought, “great, that’s what I want to do anyways.” At the very beginning of the first one when we were talking about the financial, social and personal impact of starting a music business, I thought I would just dive in head first and see if I could swim. I registered a new business name with the State and just got busy trying to apply the marketing skills I was learning in that class right away. It took a while to gain any momentum and I learned through trial and error (more often error at first) about volume, what a good sales pitch looks like and how to balance catering to the masses while still staying true to my own artistic expression. I learned from a conversation with a Youtube star that gone are the days when you can just approach a talent agent and say, in a manner of speaking, “hey, sell me!” You have to build up your own solid content, followers, subscribers on social media, or whatever else you think you would want an agent to help you sell and then go and basically say to them “I have tons of awesome content for you to use to help sell me and make something from it as well, let’s team up!”

So that is what I started doing. You can find out just how much work I’ve done in that department with the links at the bottom of this page. Fast forward about two years as I graduated from SLCC with a newly developing skill set in composition, recording, mixing, production, songwriting and all that stuff. At first I was confident this was how I wanted to continue, and be done with school. I had spent a long time in a prior season on my life proselytizing the Christian faith, knocking on doors, learning how to approach complete strangers and relate our collective life experiences to any desired subject matter, so surely I could work hard, get into the good old “pounding the pavement” habit and grow my professional presence there in Northern Utah. This is where I begin to get to the “God had better plans” part of this.

After finishing at SLCC, my wife Collette had asked me if I had any intentions of completing another two years to finish a bachelors. In response I kind of poked around with no serious intention of continuing on with more school, but, again, God had better plans than me. You know how it goes with Universities. You send even a whimsical email to a school just kind of poking around to see what they offer, and once you’re in the system, you are “in the system” and they don’t stop emailing you. Well SUU sent me one of those emails and one of them happened to be about their marching band. I had sort of a pleasant, nostalgic laugh about it at first because I was the Pit section leader in my high school marching band about 20 years prior and we won state two years in a row back in the day. I forwarded the email to Collette joking that if we ever when there that might be fun. Her response kind of shocked me. She said she felt the Holy Ghost very clearly say we were supposed to go there! 

What!? I was kidding! *Looks up* Really, God? Um… okay I guess! But You’re going to have to make this happen financially because we absolutely do not have the funds to make a move like that anytime soon. It really shocked us both because she loved her job teaching pre-school and did not want to move. I took a leap of faith and registered for fall classes at SUU and, thanks to one miracle after another, a lot of faith and support from family and friends and donating a lot of plasma, we made it down to Cedar City, Utah. We barely made it by for the first little while. Collette’s new job actually ended up falling through because of a really stupid, careless lie from the hiring crew, so we had to rely on welfare type services to get us through our first few months while she found a more sustainable income (which she did) as I continued school in fall of 2023.

It was shifting gears socially, professionally and geographically. But we made it! But during my first two semesters at SUU, things took a turn that actually made me really nervous me at first. I had entered their relatively new Commercial Music program with the intention of getting into their Masters of Music Technology afterwards and then moving back up to Northern Utah where we already had established a strong social and musical network we could easily return to. In my first few semesters of conversations with Dr. Tebbs (head of Commercial Music there), my intent to enter that Master’s program came up one day in his office. Among other things, he mentioned that his observations of my learning style made him think I would do better in an in-person learning environment rather than the online program they had. He was quick to clarify “don’t get me wrong, we have a really good program here, but I wonder if it’s really right for you or not?” After some deliberation, he sort of began to wrap things up by saying, “well, regardless of what you do if you even get a masters degree or not, I think you would do really well professionally in Nashville.” I was a little blown away by his confidence in my abilities and, upon my doubting that out loud, he doubled down and said Nashville would love my Contemporary Christian composition and songwriting style. Well, I was thankful for his confidence, but mentally brushed it off again. But then I walked out of his office and felt the Holy Ghost say very clearly, “I told him to say that.”

Again, I looked up again and thought “What?!… are we doing this again?! Well, okay, but once again You’re going to have to make this work financially because, once again, there is no way we are in a financial place to make this happen on our own any time soon.” This was not just a 300 mile trip within the state. We’re talking about a distance more than 5 times that over the mountains and to a place where neither of us knew anyone at all. I talked about it with Collette and, once again, she got a first impression that surprised her, too, that we were supposed to move in the Spring of 2025 right after I graduated. So we trusted, exercised faith and prepared the best we could. I continued to work on my business and schooling through the next summer (of 2024), got all my Gen Eds out of the way that summer, and got quite a few course overrides with the Music Department and the Honors office to stack several classes on top of their prerequisites, with about 10 classes each semester that fall and spring to graduate by Spring 2025. This was important because she had also gotten an impression from the Holy Ghost a month or so before I finished at SUU that her last day at her job (as a cook for 150 kids a day) was supposed to be May 16th. The only time before this where we had received an exact date like this from God was when we were married… in 2020… during COVID… when every place we wanted to get married was closed on May 22 (our anniversary date). God made that work, too, the place we were married opened up 2 weeks before our planned date and it worked out! I figured He must have a plan to make this work out, too.

Graduation was fantastic. I graduated with Honors, member Phi Kappa Phi, Summa Cum Laude as a part of the very first class of Commercial Music Graduates from SUU. I had found out among all the graduation celebrations and Honors banquets and events. etc. that most of the other Commercial Music grads also had plans to head to Nashville, so no pressure there! But I learned that when you act in faith, God responds. About two weeks after graduation, we still didn’t see any way financially to make such a huge move possible, but then Collette suggested we just act in faith and start packing, even if it’s just stuff we don’t really use a lot. So I did. I began boxing up books I knew I wasn’t going to read any time soon and then crazy started happening! And when I say crazy, I mean it in a very wonderful but stressful way. Things got a quick shove from “whenever” to feeling like “let’s do everything RIGHT NOW!” That very night when I boxed up those books, we got a call from someone who asked to remain anonymous who made an offer I could hardly believe. They said they had stumbled upon some financial resources they didn’t know they had, thought of us, and knew we were trying to find a way to move to Nashville. They basically said “we will cover all your moving costs.”

Once again,. I looked up again, feeling something like “You knew all along, didn’t you?” May 16th was about 2 weeks away at that point so we had to move fast! I won’t go over the whole story, but let’s just put it this way. Getting everything else packed up, my business ready to move, Collette set up with a new job, finding a place that could get our housing application processed fast enough and everything else was a total whirlwind. God made it possible, so it was time to do a huge gear shift both personally and mechanically over the next 3 weeks.

Followed by a series of even more complications and associated miracles from the Lord than I have time to discuss here, we’re in Nashville now, but here are a few key lessons I learned.

1. When God tells you He wants you to do something on a timetable you think is impossible, believe me, He will make a way for it to happen when you act in faith.

2. If you are really serious about wanting to see God work miracles in your life, you need to be ready to accept that your own greatest ideas are most likely not going to be the same as His best ideas.

3. You can make all the plans for your life you want, but when you’re really dedicated to your music and discipleship to Christ, He’s going to ask you to do things that rarely align with what makes sense to you, and believe me, His plans are always better than ours. You just have to be open to making very unexpected changes.

When you are on the gospel path in music, just be ready to shift gears when you least expect it.

For those who want to hear any of the fruits of the Lord’s work through me, click here or look me up on Spotify under W Paul Pulsipher. If you live near Nashville and want to collaborate in person, fill out my contact form at pulsipherproductions.com

Arting According to Conviction

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I could feel the flat affect on my face while my composition professor was talking to me about my new piece. He didn’t like my ideas. It wasn’t an issue of technique, but personal opinion. In his estimation, they just wouldn’t work.

I sat there not responding. I didn’t smile or nod. I didn’t comment. All his ideas were bouncing off me and sticking to him.

After a bit, he realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to convince me of his opinion, and I was resolute to try my ideas whether or not he liked them.

I’m glad I stuck to my guns.

The piece in question is my most experimental to date. It is a guided improvisation of sorts, with very minute and gradual shifts within the whole tone scale. The instrumentation is flexible. There is no set tempo or rhythm, and the form of the piece follows a narration. The score is essentially useless, except for the three pages of performance notes, more like game rules, explaining the notation and how to move through the piece.

It’s almost a musical version of Stone Soup. I provided the “stone” – the idea, and the performers bring what they have to add to it.

The truth is, I didn’t know if it was going to work. How it would “taste”, how it would sound.

I was just going on a hunch, by intuition. I had a general sense of it in my head, how I imagined it would turn out. But while I could engrave the score and parts on the computer, it was impossible to use the software to create a mock-up of the piece.

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    I am very happy with how it turned out, and I received positive feedback from both performers and listeners. I have already submitted it to three different calls for scores because I believe it is good enough to get in front of new music ensembles.

    In the process of conceptualizing and rehearsing the piece, I realized how much it not only involves a different approach to playing music, but how much it changes how the ensemble works together.

    I have a background in jazz, including playing in combos, so I am familiar with what it means to listen to another player, to respond to their licks, to fill in gaps, when to become more prominent and when to back off. Listening to what is happening in real time is paramount to a successful jazz combo performance.

    I don’t want to give the impression that classical musicians don’t listen to each other. Of course they do! But most of the time, the actual music that is played doesn’t change based on their listening.

    My piece, though, requires players to be open to making adjustments to what they are playing in response to what others are doing around them. Is the narrator taking more time in a segment than you anticipated? Then you need to fill the space with more sound. Is the other string player now using the technique you were planning to use? Switch gears and try something different. Ultimately, the ensemble works together to come up with how they want to perform the piece. I have given the general instructions, but the specifics are up to them. Every iteration of the piece will be different. Different individuals, different instrumentations, different approaches to the improvisation, different interpretations.

    My favorite aspect of music has always been its collaborative nature. When I was eight years old, I began learning clarinet and joined the school band because I wanted to make music with other people. Prior to that, I was taking piano lessons but practicing by myself, though I found meaning in that, was not fully satisfying. Music, to me, is at its heart communal.

    With today’s technology, it is possible to create music completely alone. You can make a track of all electronic instruments. You can record yourself performing. Everything can happen in your own room.

    But I believe something is missing in that approach. I believe that music-making is a situation where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts and is best done in partnership with others.

    When I wrote The Night Sky is Always Changing, I was able to maximize on my conviction that music making is collaborative and communal, by handing more autonomy over to the performers for what they will add to the piece. Not every piece I write will be this loose, but I am definitely inspired to try something like it again.

    Another way this piece reflects my conviction is in the experimental nature of the music. I believe the definition of beauty is very broad. As a Christian, however, I have come across some who share my faith but believe the definition of beauty is very narrow and limited to tonality. In their view, anything else is dishonoring to God.

    I disagree, because I believe that there are aspects of the world and our own personal experiences that cannot be fully or accurately expressed through tonality.

    Outer space is one example. The pictures I see taken with the Hubble Telescope and others are so far outside our everyday experience. Mind-blowing, stupefying, majestic, transcendent. Truly awesome.

    How can that be honestly reflected in tonality with a predictable harmonic sequence and a singable melody? It is my conviction that it cannot. The night sky explodes with wonder. So, the music must break out of convention as well.

    There is no way my music can match the sublimeness of space, but I do think the piece captures the mystery of the unknown in the outer reaches.

    You can hear the premiere of The Night Sky is Always Changing below:

    There are many writers and musicians I would like to follow, but I cannot read their work without a subscription. There are only so many I can afford, and I know I am not the only one overwhelmed by appeals for subscriptions. So, I have decided NOT to put my writing behind a paywall.

    However, if you would like to show appreciation for my work through a financial contribution like you might tip a busker in the train station, any amount is greatly appreciated! You can do so here: https://buymeacoffee.com/heatherniemisavage

    In Praise of Old Ladies

    heathersavage1

    I began writing this blog post three years ago. But as things often go, life got in the way, other topics became more urgent or easier to get out, and this one went into the draft pile. Since then, though, I’ve accumulated more to add to the story, so waiting was worth it.

    In 2022, my good friend, Jerry, was 89 years old. She’s a composer, too, and I was fortunate enough to see her at a conference. She had quite the tale to tell about her travels. The first leg of her flight was delayed, causing her to miss the second flight. By the time she arrived at her room in the overpriced airport hotel, it was well past midnight. She had to be up at 3am the next morning to get the earliest flight to her destination, where she picked up her rental car and drove straight to the conference. She only missed the first hour.

    That’s a lot of determination.

    Did I mention she was 89?

    After a couple of full days of walking across campus from venue to venue, she was still up for going out for a late dinner with friends to cap off the weekend, as long as I did the driving in the dark.

    That’s a lot of energy. Did I tell you she was 89?

    She is now 92, but she hasn’t really slowed down.

    Jerry’s enthusiasm for life isn’t just in the amount of energy she can maintain. It also shows up in her career. She still invests in learning. She embraces new ideas. She is not deterred by new technologies. I saw her at an online conference in January. We email regularly, and she told me about some recent coaching she had received from another composer less than half her age, and how much it had helped her grow her composition career. In the last few years, the number of performances and commissions she has received has grown tremendously!

    She is generous with her time and knowledge, too. She has told me about workshops, conferences, organizations, websites, and other things that will help me move forward as a composer. She has given me tips on some techniques related to composing. In turn, she has also been eager to hear what I have to share, asking me to comment on her in-process pieces and where I find public-domain poetry.

    She loves to collaborate. She has teamed up with several undergraduate vocal majors to write art songs for them.

    Jerry amazes me. Her zest for life is inspiring.

    Since I began writing this blog post, I have met more women around the same age – other musicians, in fact – who blow my mind with their tenacity and vivacity.

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      I have a new student, Dorothy. I am teaching her how to use Sibelius. She is 92 years old! At the end of our first lesson, she remarked, “The world has changed so fast. I’ve got to catch up!”

      Instead of complaining about how things aren’t the same as they were back in “her” day, she sees it as her responsibility to change and grow with the world.

      When the person who was engraving her compositions could no longer do the work, she decided it was time to learn the computer software herself. She is going from pencil-and-paper to computer in her advanced age. Yet, people less than half her age are moaning about switching from one notation software to another (Finale vs. Dorico.)

      (By the way, I Googled her and discovered that she gave a public piano recital at age 90. Just wow!)

      Then there’s Helen. Though she has slowed down a bit in the last year and no longer gets to church every week, she still sings in the choir when she can. Even though she sings from a wheelchair, her voice is remarkably clear and strong for someone so old. She is a retired church music director and, for a special treat, conducted the choir on her 100th birthday!

      Three years ago, the impetus for this post was the death of Estelle Harris at age 94. As I started reading the list of roles she had played (I was most familiar with her roles in Seinfeld and Toy Story), I started doing the math. Wait a minute. She was how old when she did that??? She was seventy-one when she began her role as Mrs. Potato Head.

      They say age is just a number. And it’s true.

      But we have to make sure this doesn’t remain just a saying.

      It’s important to find and model ourselves after those who are living out this truth, who are not letting age determine their identity, value or accomplishments, who are living with a zest for life that is almost other-worldly.

      These women are in decent health, but they don’t move fast. Despite this, their minds are on fire! And they are determined to maximize whatever opportunities and abilities they currently have.

      It’s as if they are living in the present so much, the present never ends.

      Obviously, not everyone lucks out to have great mental and physical health at such an old age. Yet, the fact that these three 90+ year old women who are tackling the world like they are still twenty tells me that this zest for life is not pure luck.

      They didn’t develop this mindset in their later years. They already had it, which I believe has enabled them to continue in it.

      As Michale Scott wrote in The Warlock, “The day we stop learning is the day we die.”

      These women, in their 90s and older, have not ceased learning and exploring.

      Let us emulate them to the greatest extent possible.

      And for those of you who have to switch from Finale to another notation software, take a cue from Dorothy and determine that it is on you to catch up to the changes. If she can do it, so can you.

      There are many writers and musicians I would like to follow, but I cannot read their work without a subscription. There are only so many I can afford, and I know I am not the only one overwhelmed by appeals for subscriptions. So, I have decided NOT to put my writing behind a paywall.

      However, if you would like to show appreciation for my work through a financial contribution like you might tip a busker in the train station, any amount is greatly appreciated! You can do so here: https://buymeacoffee.com/heatherniemisavage

      Be Yourself, But Not Like That

      heathersavage1

      A while back, I entered a composition competition. Shortly after, one the judges, who I personally know, went on a slight rant on social media about the use of Papyrus as a title font.

      The argument was that it’s kitschy, overused, and communicates that the music within is “less than.”

      It also happens to be the font that I use for my titles.

      Before you judge me, hear me out.

      I am aware that there is a level of disgust (from some people) about the use of Papyrus.

      They complain about the movie Avatar using this font – a movie that came out over fifteen years ago. A decade-and-a-half is a long time for someone to hold onto a hang-up about a font.

      At the same time, I have received compliments about my font.

      But, yesterday, in a meeting I was warned by another composer that my font gets mixed reviews.

      It’s divisive, for sure.

      Knowing this, I have looked for another font – multiple times. But I have not found another I like that is available across all the platforms I use. Sure, I could create something that I then have to graphically insert into my scores.

      But why should I do that to please other people?

      The judge I mentioned above said something about Papyrus being fake hieroglyphics. But he was wrong. Papyrus was the material hieroglyphs were written on. This is important, as I will explain.

      I chose Papyrus because it best communicates me and my music. It communicates something ancient and natural.

      Most of my music is inspired by extra-musical sources, primarily related to my (ancient) faith, literature, and the natural world. My brand archetype is “philosopher”, and I approach life through a metanarrative lens.

      My piece, Eidolons, takes its title from an ancient Greek word. My piece Arethusa is about a story from ancient Greece. My piece From the Four Winds draws its name from a phrase in the Bible. My piece Mountain Heartleaf is inspired by a species of wild ginger. These are just a few examples.

      Papyrus is a perfect fit.

      We are told to be our authentic selves. Then, we are told, “Well, don’t be that way.” That way is kitschy, uncool, overused and outdated.

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        Let me ask you a few things.

        1. Have you ever listened to and enjoyed a piece of music, only to wonder whether or not the publisher of the score used a good font?
        2. Have you truly judged a score by its cover? (If so, why? Did you not look at it or listen to the music?)
        3. Have you examined other scores, especially choral works? Do you realize how boring most covers are?
        4. Have you looked around at book covers and noticed how overused many covers are, especially for non-fiction titles?
        5. What is the music really about? How the cover looks, or how it sounds?

        When I see the titles of other scores, they feel bland to me. They don’t call to me. That doesn’t mean I won’t examine the score or listen to the music. However, I personally like to make my score covers a little more decorative by using the Papyrus font with some shadow.

        If that turns someone off, I can’t control that. If they see my cover as lame and assume that the music contained within is also lame, without giving it a look or listen, then they are not “my people.”

        But my guess is that some will like my font and understand it communicates that my music connects to something beyond ourselves.

        I have given this a lot of thought, and despite the insecurity I sometimes feel when people warn against the use of Papyrus, I’m going to keep it.

        I’m going to be myself.

        And, you know what? It hasn’t hurt me too much.

        In my meeting yesterday, I was told that I needed to highlight more of the good stuff buried in my CV, in particular the pieces that have been performed in peer-reviewed settings.

        Like Eidolons, which was recently performed at the UNK New Music Festival.

        My pieces have been performed in peer-reviewed contexts several times.

        And I get sales on JW Pepper.

        It seems the title font is not a problem, after all.

        A Plant-astic Piece

        heathersavage1

        Last summer, I was commissioned by Gabe Porter (Fr. horn) to write a piece for woodwind quintet about a threatened or endangered plant in North Carolina. Since I am an herbalist and love plants (rather am obsessed with plants), I eagerly accepted the opportunity.

        I chose the “Mountain Heartleaf” (Hexastylis Contracta) species of wild ginger.

        Wild ginger is an herb native to the woodlands of eastern North America which has a scent and flavor similar to the Asian ginger found in grocery stores. It has a history of use among Native Americans and early European settlers, but there are also warnings it could be toxic.

        I have never used wild ginger, but I have grown it.

        Common wild ginger grows fairly quickly, but other types of wild ginger, like the Mountain Heartleaf grow very slowly and require more specific growing conditions, which is why it is rare. The Mountain Heartleaf species grows only in the mountains of Eastern Tennessee and Western North Carolina, and there are fewer populations of it in WNC.

        Back to music.

        All of my music is inspired by extra-musical ideas, mostly philosophical or literary.

        Writing about a plant is different, yet also the same.

        It’s impossible for music to directly represent a physical reality. If I were to paint a realistic picture of wild ginger, with any skill it would be recognizable as wild ginger. But how does one represent a plant in music?

        To do this, I decided to approach the plant from more of a philosophical perspective, asking “What is its essence?”

        What makes this plant different from other plants? What are the components of the plant? What characteristics do they have? How does the plant grow? Where does it grow? What are its qualities? What vibes do I get when I consider these aspects of the plant?

        I used two pitch class sets to write the piece: the first five notes of the major scale, and the first five notes of the minor scale. Using extreme dissonance, extended techniques, or electronics did not seem to fit this modest plant.

        Following are the program notes I wrote to explain how my music relates to five aspects of the plant that I used for inspiration. Due to the determined length of the commission, each section lasts about one minute.

        Prelude: Conditions of growth. The Mountain Heartleaf lives in the deciduous forests in mountainous regions of Tennessee and North Carolina populated with Mountain Laurel and Rhododendron. The opening chorale establishes the rich, dense harmonic landscape of the piece.

        Perpetual Permeation: Rhizome. The Mountain Heartleaf spreads across the forest floor by a rhizome, creating a ground cover. A constant eighth-note pulse permeates and propels this scherzo-like movement.

        Overlapping and Variegation: Leaves. The leaves of the Mountain Heartleaf are heart-shaped, slightly variegated in their color patterns, and overlap each other, shading the forest floor and keeping it moist. A five-part canon provides overlapping and variegation in sound between the instruments.

        Exquisite Simplicity: Flowers. The flowers of the Mountain Heartleaf are understated, subtle, and elegant, often hidden by the leaves. This movement borrows from Satie’s Gymnopedies, which I believe are the epitome of exquisite simplicity.

        Vim and Vigor: Hot Herbal Energetics. Because Mountain Heartleaf is threatened, it should not be used, but it shares properties with other species of wild ginger*, and the root has a similar spicy taste to the Asian culinary ginger. The last section of this piece is a fast, energetic finale fitting for a plant with “hot” energetics which help to activate and enhance the actions of other herbs when blended with them in medicinal formulations.

        *Before using any wild plant, be sure to do thorough research regarding benefits and risks, and make sure you have a proper ID and are using an appropriate species.

        I loved working on this project, and now I want to write a set of pieces about plants for woodwind quintet!

        Here is a video of the premiere of Mountain Heartleaf. I hope you enjoy it!

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          Teach Your Students To Study Scores

          heathersavage1

          I am accompanying a few undergraduate students for their end-of-semester “performance assessments” (aka juries.)

          I’ve noticed a pattern, but I’m curious how widespread this problem is. So, if you are an accompanist, or an applied teacher, share your thoughts!

          Students know that they need to send me scores so I can practice the piano part, but three out of four students sent me the wrong music.

          One student sent me a score that was clearly “home-engraved” with only block chords in half notes, so that the piano was doing nothing except supporting the harmony.

          Being well-familiar with the work of Vivaldi, I knew it wasn’t right.

          “Where did you get this?” I asked.

          “IMSLP” was the answer.

          Two other students sent me complete scores, not piano reductions. They were string orchestra pieces, and I could have hacked my way through reading an open score, but I couldn’t do it in principle.

          Again, they had been found on IMSLP. (This is not a cut on IMSLP. I love IMSLP and find it to be an invaluable resource.)

          The problem is that students think that IMSLP is where they are going to find scores to give to pianists.

          After telling them all they needed to provide real piano parts, they went back to their teachers for help.

          It seems they are not being taught 1) what the proper music is to give to pianists or 2) where to find the music, such as in the school music library. It appears that what was sent to me did not first pass inspection with the applied teacher.

          Most of all, it is obvious the students have not looked at the piano part or studied the score.

          They are unfamiliar about how the parts fit together, when they are playing in parallel motion or in counterpoint. They are surprised by changes in harmony or mood. They don’t know when the piano has the melody and is acting as the orchestra in a concerto.

          This is something that the applied teacher should be teaching during lessons. The applied teacher should provide or direct the student to the piano score from the beginning. The applied teacher should guide the student through a basic analysis of the piece. discussing harmony, key, mood, secondary dominances, form, and the lines of each part. The applied teacher should prepare the student for how to work with a pianist.

          As it has turned out, in addition to accompanying, I am also teaching some theory, form & analysis, and doing chamber music coaching.

          Now, as a composer, I can geek out on that all day.

          But I shouldn’t have to in a rehearsal, because it does not reflect real life. In real life, rehearsals should be strictly about performance details, like making sure everyone is breathing together, coming in at the right time and agreeing on how to navigate tempo changes.

          In a school setting, the students may get four rehearsals with me, but in the real world, they might get one rehearsal with their pianist. Maybe two. Especially in a chamber music situation, musicians need to come to the first rehearsal knowing not just their own part, but how it fits in with the other parts. They need to know what to expect the music to sound like.

          There’s no time for guessing, there’s no time for figuring it out on the spot.

          Sure, music students learn score analysis in theory class, but there is still a gap in understanding when the applied teachers do not show how these theory skills apply directly to preparing pieces for performance.

          Playing an instrument involves far more than technique. Applied teachers, please teach your students to study scores.

          Why Musicians Should Not Work for Food, Drinks and Tips

          heathersavage1

          Recently, I came upon a post on Facebook in which a local restaurant owner suggested that musicians could come and perform. While the restaurant owner “couldn’t pay,” he said the musicians would get a meal and could collect tips.

          I countered this man’s post and said no musician should play for free, and I got a lot of flack – not only from the restaurant owner but also from some other locals who said it was perfectly find and it was the musicians’ “choice” whether to accept a gig that only paid food and tips.

          No matter what I said, they continued to argue, even saying that musicians should consider it “building community.”

          So, I decided to flesh out all my thoughts here in this post, making my points to other musicians, so they have a clear understanding of why they should not play for “food and tips” and the far-reaching implications if they do.

          Musicians, you are worth far more than food, beer, and tips.

          Recorded music is ubiquitous.

          In my opinion, recorded music has cheapened music. Unfortunately, this problem started long before any of us was even alive, and there is nothing we can do about it. Not only do we have the radio, but now music is streamed online and musicians only earn a fraction of a cent for each stream.

          What does that have to do with restaurants?

          If they want music to add ambiance to their dining room, all they have to do is pipe it in through the speaker system. And it is cheap.

          Plain old, recorded music piped in is easy to get and cheap.

          Live music is special.

          It is NOT easy to get, and it should NOT be cheap.

          If someone is playing music in public, I am assuming they have learned how to perform. That means years of practice. They have probably spent money on lessons. They have definitely invested money in instruments and gear. If a band is playing, they have spent hours of their own time rehearsing without pay.

          Musicians have already spent their own money to become musicians, the same way any other business invests money to start up.

          And business owners expect to make money from their business.

          The problem is that other people – like this restaurant owner and the other locals -are not seeing musicians as the businesspeople they are. Instead, they are seeing them as doing something “fun” that doesn’t deserve real payment.

          Below are some arguments I have heard about why musicians “should” play for free, and my response.

          Argument 1: Musicians can “get practice” performing for an audience

          My response:

          As I said above, musicians have already invested time and money into learning their craft and rehearsing together. Most musicians have probably already performed in front of friends and family, whether at private parties or recitals or other community events.

          If a musician/band needs to get more public practice, that is what open mics are for. Open mics don’t pay, and that is fine, because they are for practice. And they are also not an entire three-hour gig. At an open mic, you only get fifteen minutes to do your thing.

          My husband will sometimes play open mics for two reasons. First, he is trying out new material. Second, he is essentially “auditioning” at a new place and wants to get to know the person in charge of music at a venue.

          You should never carry the weight of a full gig for “tips.”

          Think about this: don’t most employers pay their employees during training? Why are musicians different?

          Even so, it is better to compare musicians to tradespeople who have gone to school and paid for their training before starting in their field. Hairdressers and auto mechanics do not graduate and then expect to work for free as if they are still “training.” Neither should musicians.

          Argument 2: Musicians should perform for the sake of “community.”

          My response:

          Community is important. But, in a community everyone should be taken care of, including the musicians. Which means paying them fairly. Community should not happen at the expense of musicians.

          Sure, there are times when musicians may decide to play for free, such as at a fundraiser. My husband and I have both performed for free at such events.

          But be careful.

          If an organization is going to pay its employees to be at an event, the musicians should also be paid! It’s one thing if everyone is volunteering and donating time and resources. It’s quite another when the musicians are expected to play for free while others are paid to be there.

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            Argument 3: Musicians will get “exposure.”

            My response:

            People will claim that musicians will get “exposure” and will somehow “make it” because a random person discovers them in some random no-name venue.

            Bullshit.

            That is some serious pie-in-the-sky thinking on the venue’s part that somehow they are special.

            (Sure, there are some places that might have a reputation for being the hot spot where people are noticed. But, there it is – they have a reputation. AND – guess what – musicians are often noticed during open mics. If I was a scout looking for talent, I’d go to a lot of open mics where I can hear many different acts in one night in one place!)

            Meanwhile, the musicians looking for “exposure” are providing a real service to the venue, adding to the atmosphere and enjoyment of the clientele, and increasing the traffic – and the revenue – of the venue.

            Thus, musicians are putting money into the wallets of the restaurant/venue owner, but they are not lining their own pockets.

            Don’t fall for these arguments.

            Now, lets talk about the reality of food, drinks, and tips.

            I have worked in food service. My very first job was as a busser at a seafood restaurant when I was thirteen, and in college I was a shift manager at a cafeteria on campus.

            I’m not going to claim that restaurants are a high-margin business. They are not. There is a lot to consider besides the cost of ingredients and paying the staff. There’s a lot of costs in the building, licensing, insurance and liability, etc.

            But the cost of food is, comparatively, not very high.

            Even at retail prices, a restaurant meal costs about 3x what it would cost you to make it at home. And restaurants buy ingredients at wholesale prices, which makes the cost even lower.

            That means, if you are given a $15 sandwich with fries, it cost the restaurant less than $5 in ingredients.

            Drinks – even alcoholic ones – have an even bigger margin. Sodas cost pennies. Beer is cheap.

            So, you get a meal and a couple of drinks? Congratulations, you were paid $10 for your three-hour gig.

            Does that sound worth it to you?

            Now, for the realities about tips.

            The amount of tips doesn’t change depending on the number of people in the band. It depends on the number of tables and customers in the dining room.

            Servers at a restaurant normally get a percentage of the bill as their tip. The current average is 18-20%. It is not unusual for a meal out for 2 to come to $50 or more. So, a server can reasonably expect to earn $10 or so in tips from serving that couple.

            Musicians don’t make that much. They get a few dollars, if they get tipped at all.

            Restuarant and even bar customers don’t automatically expect – or feel the need – to tip the musicians. Rightly, they believe that the venue is actually paying the people they are bringing in to perform.

            Even if customers do tip, they are not tipping based on the bill. They tip according to whatever they feel like or whatever they might have leftover in their pocket.

            When I was a busser in 1989, I got a percentage of the tips of the waitstaff. But waitstaff do not share their tips with musicians.

            It is a complete “luck of the draw” if the customers will tip the musicians.

            Often, they don’t.

            In my husband’s experience, many people will request specific songs for him to play. After which, they don’t tip.

            The other night, my husband learned that a couple at the venue had gotten married earlier that day by a Justice of the Peace. He played the Wedding Song to celebrate them. No tip.

            This is how it is.

            Some people will love you and give you $20. Other people don’t give a damn that you did anything special. And there’s no predicting it.

            Based on the last year, in our area, tips max out around $70 a gig, regardless of the number of musicians performing.

            Someone might think that is OK pay, but it is not.

            When you think about the time setting up, the time playing, and the time breaking down – ALL of which is work, not just the performing part – tips alone will not pay $15 an hour. A musician would be better off working at a retail store.

            It’s even worse when that $70 is split among four band members!

            This is all while the venue is making more money because the live music is drawing in more people.

            It’s not acceptable! Tips alone are insufficient.

            In summary, it is abusive to ask musicians to play for just “food, drinks, and tips.”

            If musicians take these types of gigs, they ruin it for every other musician.

            Let’s imagine that a band believes they are “in training” and should only accept tips.

            Restaurant A gets them to come play.

            Restaurant B finds out and says, “hey, I don’t have to pay for musicians, I can just get bands-in-training to come play.” So, they stop paying musicians.

            Word gets around, and the trend spreads to all the other restaurants in the area. Soon enough, only “bands in training” get work, and all the professional musicians can’t earn money.

            Then, when all those “bands-in-training” think they’ve gotten good enough to the point of asking for money, there are no paying gigs. They ruined it for themselves, too.

            Then, it’s no longer a “choice” to play for tips. It becomes that, or nothing at all.

            Musicians, it’s time to demand real payment and stop accepting only “food, drinks, and tips” for services rendered.

            Stepping Into the Light

            heathersavage1

            Today is the day of my graduate recital in music composition.

            One hour of music written by me, performed by myself and twenty-four other musicians.

            While I will share the stage with them, I will not be sharing the program. Every last name listed all the way down the right side of the page is mine.

            It is a momentous occasion.

            Earlier today my husband and I were wondering aloud to each other why this seems like such a big deal. It’s not the first time I’ve had pieces premiered and performed. Yet, this feels different.

            In some ways, it feels like the culmination of an artistic project, because the process of getting ready for the recital requires choosing music, finding musicians, deciding on the order of the pieces, writing the program notes, reserving the hall, running rehearsals, and printing and folding the programs. It’s a lot.

            But this recital feels like more than that.

            It feels closer in weight to my wedding day and the births of my two children. Not just the culmination of a project, but a life-changing event.

            However, unlike the other life-changing events, this one is all about ME. I’m not sharing it with my husband, or my children. I am the sole focus.

            Not just for five minutes during a concert shared with other composers.

            A full hour that is wholly mine.

            I am being birthed.

            I am coming out, and my audience is waiting for my arrival.

            I am not sure I would have understood the enormity of this moment when I was younger.

            Although I did not do a recital as an undergrad, I was quite familiar with them and attended many. Recitals were a big deal, but they seemed more like a requirement than a MOMENT.

            But they are, indeed, that MOMENT.

            In a college musician’s life, the graduation recital is a presentation to the world that one has crossed the line into “professional.”

            I’ve been a “professional” composer for some time, as I have made money from composing, both through commissions and score sales. So, for me, this recital has more personal meaning than professional.

            And that is because I don’t have to share.

            I have been sharing since I was almost two years old, when my sister was born (and I don’t remember anything from before then!)

            As a mom, and as a pastor’s wife for fifteen years, I put myself aside a great deal.

            And, unfortunately, for most of my life, I have experienced having my thoughts, ideas, and concerns dismissed. Sometimes simply because I was a girl/woman. Other times because I was in unhealthy relationships where I didn’t have a voice.

            But today, I do.

            Not only do I have a voice through my compositions, but the performers are there wanting to play, and the audience is there eager to listen.

            To me. To only my music. For a full hour.

            I am walking onto the stage that is mine for this night.

            I am taking up space, stepping into the light.

            I feel the transformation happening, and everything is all right.

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