In order for you to better understand my little land of illusions, I thought I should tell you just a bit more about myself, and how these stories came to be...
From the time I can remember, I was surrounded by music...both of my parents had wonderful voices, and were quite active in the church choir. At the tender age of nine, I took up violin lessons, and then progressed through the trumpet and french horn, before finding what would be my number one love for the next 15 years or so ~ the guitar. I started with an old Sears special during the same time I was learning the trumpet. While both my folks were adament about me practicing my trumpet lessons, I do believe there was probably some sense of quiet relief when I would slink off to tinker with my "new toy". Within just a matter of weeks I had memorized every song in the the little book that came with that first guitar, and I was thirsting for more.
As I had finally matured enough to make my desires known, I convinced my mother to pay for guitar lessons the year I entered the eighth grade. I was now taking french horn in school...but my loyalty was to those 6 strings. And during this year, I discovered a new passion...writing songs. Now mind you...we are talking eighth grade here...I was no Carole King or James Taylor...but oh how I loved to write!
After a year, it was obvious I was hooked, (and most likely equally as obvious that I would never hold the first seat in the band), so with some most gracious encouragement from my guitar teacher, my mother agreed to another year of lessons ~ with a catch (isn't there always a catch?). It was obvious to EVERYONE that my desire was to write music, but my guitar teacher informed my mother that the only way for me to ever REALLY learn to play the guitar was to persue classical studies. Of course, all I wanted was to learn more and write more, so I was willing to go along with anything at that point. And my mother, recognizing my passion, decided that if this was my destiny, then a new and proper instrument was in order. With that, I got my shiney, new, full-sized, classical guitar. What ensued was 5 years of classical guitar lessons, hours upon hours of practicing, and....notebooks full of songs. You see at this point, I was starting to fancy myself quite the lyricyst (ahhh, the modesty of the young...sigh), but I was also starting to write other things as well...mostly abstract lil pieces reflecting the teenage mind.
Well, after two years of violin, one year of trumpet, one year of french horn, and six years of guitar, I had done about all the practicing I could stand!!!! So I headed off to write myself into oblivion...spilling out songs almost faster than I could get them to paper. (Sadly...many have been lost over the years, as I moved around a lot in later years.) AND, I began performing... whereever I could get an audience. It was clear to most that I would never make a living at this new found hobby, but I certainly enjoyed watching people's faces as they listened to, and absorbed my words. It was during this time that one of my dearest friends (and greatest supporters) took it upon himself to bless me with a brand new, round-belley, 6-string, Ovation. I was very hesitant to except such a grand gift at the time, but he simply said "Please...take it. The music that you make with it is the only thanks I will ever need".
I left my home state at the age of 25 to follow my job, and embarked on a brand new adventure...life. Along the way, my music and my guitar began to take second seat to the other goings on in my life. What had been a daily 2-4 hour ritual, slowly began to fade into a weekly, then occasionally, then a rarely touched activity. However, long after my guitar had found it's home in a corner, and my music in a box, I continued to have the longing to write...the ache, if you will. Which brings us up to the last few months...
Shortly before the holidays, I found myself starting to dabble again ~ a short poem here, an equally short song there. Then one night, when my angel was having trouble falling asleep, I started to tell her a story...was just making it up in my head as I went. She was absolutely mesmerized, and drifted off shortly after I finished. I was so exhilerated, that as soon as I was sure she was sleeping soundly, I rushed to my computer to write the whole thing down. The amazing part was I remembered every single bit of it, down to the most minute detail. I gave it to her the next day as a momento, and she was simply "bowled over" that I could have possibly recalled it all enough to get it to 'paper'. Well friends...that was the start of it all. You see, ever since then, my passion has been writing short stories. Yes, I still miss my music now and again, and once and a great while still pull out my guitar. But by far, the most fullfilling for me these days, is the writing. No longer do I think of myself so much as a musician, but rather now, a painter of words. I will never be a prize winning author, nor do I aspire to be. And I must admit, it takes a lot longer to find the ideas for the stories than it did for my music. However, nothing brings me greater joy than being able to weave a tale in such a way that the reader becomes a part of the story. Sometimes it works...sometimes it doesn't. But I am having one hellava ride trying!
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Write to me at everblue2u@yahoo.com
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