Sweaters on Pinterest and other knitting geekery, books, writing, simple comforts, and other joys of autumn. Here’s what’s been inspiring me.
It was an innocent enough comment, I thought.
I "followed" successful New York Musical Theatre composer and lyricist Timothy Huang on Twitter. When he "followed" me back, I sent the thank you message I send to everyone, with the added comment "I dream of writing Broadway musicals."
And he called my bluff. He wrote me back. And he said, "May I ask what steps you are taking towards realizing your dream?"
I don't know why he asked that... With further exploration of his web presence, I found out he seems to be a bit of a coach at heart. Maybe even a teacher. And he might have heard a hopeful dreamer whispering in the dark, and wanted to see just how serious she was.
Maybe not. But as soon as I read it, I knew it for what it was--a question that required an honest answer. A question that I had been avoiding the answer to for myself. The spotlight was suddenly on my excuses, and I couldn't hide them from myself any more.
I got angry with myself. Because Candace and I have been working on Queen of Persia for FOURTEEN YEARS--but not really. We worked on it for short, concentrated bursts over a span of fourteen years. And had those bursts been "concentrated" not only in effort, but in time elapsed from each other, we could possibly have not only one published play, but several by now.
Thus rang the thoughts of self-condemnation in my head. Followed quickly by the well-practised excuses. "... The kids were too young... I've been too busy... I was home schooling... I've been learning how to write music/tell stories/write musicals better.. I've been too busy investing time into my 'investment capital' business, which leaves no time for the creative stuff..." And on and on.
But "what steps am I taking towards realizing my dream?"
Not enough. That's all I could come up with.
Several years ago, when I had gotten tired of constantly being frustrated at the slow pace I was advancing in each of my various activities and projects, but knowing that I really couldn't give up much more than I already had at the time, I had an epiphany:
A sweater gets knit one stitch at a time. As long as you keep making stitches, the sweater will eventually be finished. Dresses get sewn one step at a time. And novels get written one page at a time. Or one sentence. Or word.
Progress may be slow. But as long as progress is being made, things will eventually be accomplished.
But have I been making steps towards getting Queen of Persia onto a stage? Not really. Not for about four years, now. If that sweater only got one stitch every four years, or even a few rows in that time, it would take a lifetime to complete.
And getting a musical finished and produced takes a lot more effort than knitting a sweater.
"What steps am I taking towards realizing my dream?"
It's funny, because for the last week or so, a voice has been niggling in my brain that it is time to finish. It's time to move forward with this dream, to really begin the career that I have dreamed of since I was in college. Yesterday, I emailed Candace and asked her about a possible next step, and told her a couple things I was thinking of doing, just kind of testing the waters. Testing, because I'm still a little afraid--not of the work, but of my own lack of resolve. Will this be the time that I will follow it to the end? We are SO. CLOSE. Kind of. Not really. Where do we even go from here?
This morning, with that simple question asked by a complete stranger, the lid was blown off the container of my fears. I sat down and composed an email to Mr. Huang that actually did outline the steps that I have known to do but have been avoiding for four years. When I was done, the anger at myself was gone.
In its place is resolve. It IS time. If my pastor and church elders could give me their blessing to sacrifice an entire winter of going to church in 2010 so that I could compose from morning to night that day (at the time, the ONLY niche I could carve out of my schedule to do so), holed up in my freezing cold bedroom (which is where the piano was then), then I owe it to them to finish it. If my husband was willing to sacrifice his Sundays with me, taking over sole responsibility for child care so I could compose undisturbed for one day a week for six months, then I know (for this reason and so many others) that he is behind me 100% on this project. I owe it to him to finish it. If my co-writer can keep reminding me and encouraging me and being passionate about this project, after fourteen years and eight kids between us and moves and misunderstandings and remaining friends through it all, I owe it to her to finish it.
And if, after fourteen years, I still want this so badly that when I allow myself to think about it, to dream it, to feel that flame in my heart that I try to ignore most of the time because the heat would burn and bring me to tears (like right now), then I owe it to myself to finish it.
There is no other dream I have (with the exception of seeing a world where the poor and orphans are cared for properly) that brings me to tears. I don't lose sleep over what knitting patterns I will write in the next year. I don't burn with frustration that my next novel isn't progressing as quickly as I would like. The only dream I have yet to accomplish that leaves my gut twisted with unrequited desire for it is to write music for a living. And specifically, to get Queen of Persia to the stage.
What steps am I taking towards realizing my dream?
Starting tonight, I will be working on the revision Candace and I started in 2012. And continuing on my list of steps from there.
With one step at a time, the journey will finally reach completion. I can't see the end of the road right now, but at least I'm finally walking on it again.
Thank you, Mr. Huang. It was an innocent enough question. But it was exactly what I needed.
Dreaming of pursuing my passions, and what recently happened on the music front.
(Note: This was originally combined with a recipe post, but I chose to separate them to make the recipe post more relevant. To remain authentic to where I was at the time of writing this, I did not change any of the original wording of the post. While I may have a better understanding of the background of movies such as RENT now [circa 2016], this post reflects where I was when it was originally written in 2006.)
In college, one of my favourite classes was Jazz Choir. One of my favourite classmates was Kim Denis. (Kim, are you reading me? Did I send you my blog? I'll have to e-mail you and check.) Kim ADORED the play Rent, which I believe she had seen in New York before her year-long tour with Up With People. And I believe our Jazz Choir ended up singing "Seasons of Love" in no small part due to her exuberant recommendations of the song. If she wasn't part of the reason, she was definitely over-the-top excited when the instructor pulled it out. (A lot of things with Kim are over-the-top. It's why I love her so much.)
Well, I loved the song. I had no idea what the musical was about, but as a die-hard musical lover, I knew I wanted to see it. Especially since Kim loved it so much.
Last night, my wish was fulfilled. I don't want to ruin it for anyone who hasn't seen it yet, but I will touch on a couple of points:
- I was surprised to discover that the lyrics "the way that she died" in the theme song (from all the trailers, "Seasons of Love") was actually referring to a he.
- The music was sensational. But they could have at least found someone who could sing for the movie, right? *sarcasm dripping.* Seriously, everyone in this movie was an amazing singer, and from a musical standpoint, I have no regrets in watching it.
- There was a little too much PDA between homosexual couples in it for my tastes. Okay, any would have been too much for me. I know that no matter what I say in the rest of this point, I am going to offend someone, or already have, so I'll just say it. I love homosexuals. I have friends that are homosexuals. I also have friends that pirate CDs, gossip, tell "little white lies", and can probably be condemned "guilty as charged" of many of these crimes and others at different points of my life. However, I don't have close friends who flagrantly flaunt (10 points for alliteration on "fl") their sins, demanding that they be considered as right, simply because someone is doing them. I know that it is only humans who rate sins ("What Suzy did when she cheated on her taxes is much worse than what I'm doing, so I am still doing okay"), and that God views them all the same. How could I ever condemn anyone else for what they are doing, when I commit so many blunders myself each and every day? I guess I just don't feel I need to have those things shoved in my face, marring an otherwise wonderful entertainment event.
While typing this last point, I felt convicted by the Holy Spirit: So, I found "Rent" distasteful because it involved same-sex kissing, but I still enjoy watching many other movies that include swindlers, con artists, murderers, and many other vices? Have I ever written a diatribe about these subjects? Yikes! Ouch! I get the point! Perhaps I have become more desensitized than I thought. Although, as I general rule, I try to avoid movies with excessive amounts of gore, and gore is still my least favourite part of any movie that includes this, I am rather fond of watching movies such as, say, "Ocean's 11" or other hi-larious con movies. So, wrong-doing portrayed in a humourous way is now okay? What kind of double standards do I have, anyway?
OUCH! I said. STOP IT ALREADY!
I am obviously going to have to re-think some of my other movie choices. Or, be more careful with what I say. Or, decide what kind of standard I am going to apply across the board. Hmm. Too much food for thought.
I didn't know when I started this post that I would start having to sweep out the dark, cobwebby corners of my mind and values. Grey areas can become so comfortable--you tend to lose focus on black and white in the soothing, warm fuzziness of the fog that obliterates them. Sometimes, grey is the real colour, but sometimes, grey is only black or white covered with apathy and neglect. The question is, which is which?
If I was smart, I would probably delete the whole second half of this post. But, in an effort to maintain this newly-discovered honesty with myself in this area, and at the risk of losing at least half of my readers, I will post it anyway. Please don't send TOO much hate mail my way.
I forgot to mention earlier: I did like the theme of the movie, which was "No Day But Today." Good reminder to live every day to it's fullest.