A New Direction

Have you ever had something that you wanted so much that you couldn't even acknowledge that you wanted it?

It turns up as a hobby instead, not the thing you want to do full time.

It becomes a lost love, nestling within nostalgia, it's joy clouded in a thin halo of sadness.

Or it lives within a story that this kind of want is not possible.

There was a time when the act of composing itself was that for me.

I supported myself teaching singing, guitar, songwriting, violin.

I told myself that I was still a composer, but no-one could earn a living from writing music.

I told myself that this was the way the world was and who was I to change it.

I told myself that I didn't want it enough to make it work.

I told myself that I wasn't the kind of person who could make a career like that work.

To pop that bubble, well, what a load of bullsh*t.

The crux for me came when I was 32 weeks pregnant with my daughter (see pic). The pregnancy was a difficult one. I struggled to breathe, my blood pressure was 'midwife-gasping' low, I had a toddler and was I teaching over 100 children a week within 2.5 days on an instrument that I *hated*.

Every medical professional I talked to kept telling me to rest and relax. What a useless phrase that is! I'm freelance, I have a child, I have commitments - relaxation is nigh on impossible!

And then the time came for the reports. 

For those 100+ children. 

I wrote a report for every. single. one. of them.

And despite a good hourly rate, despite valuing each child and loving watching their progress, despite fabulous employers and great schools...

I realised I wasn't paid enough for this sh*t.

I did the last report, handed in my notice, went on maternity leave early, and decided never to teach in that way again.

It was time to start composing again.

And yet, three years later, I find myself having a new revelation.

I only allowed myself part of the dream.

"Composing is enough! Just the act of writing music for a living is enough! I need nothing else!"

Once again, I call bull.

I've spent the last couple of years pushing a belief that I will be a great film composer. TV. Media. Anything. It can pay well, so it's the right direction for me. Right?

All the while conducting a secret love affair with song. 

Cherishing classical song commissions, sneaking off to create an album with my favourite poet, obsessing over Lin-Manuel Miranda's latest genius, sighing over early music vocal works, selling my vocal scores, dreaming about writing operas, musicals and Disney songs.

The revelation dawned on me last weekend, during Suzy Ashworth's Quantum Shift event, that despite throwing everything into composing for a living, I was still holding myself back. 

I was still not allowing myself to want and pursue the thing that I want so much. 

I remember exactly when I made the decision. I had been batting the thought away for months.

But I was sitting at the piano. I was writing a song for mine and Jo's album, Lemon Verbena, during the Quantum Shift breaks.

I was speaking to a friend.

And I got so angry.

I got so angry that I was denying myself something that brought me so much joy. 

That I would run towards the anxiety and the fear, when Song was just sitting there saying: 'I'm right here, lovely'.

I cried out to my friend:

'I love doing this! I want to write songs! I want to write for voice! I want to create music on my own terms!'

And immediately something lifted.

So here I am.

Links

To listen to my songs, click here.