A Thousand Songs Unwritten

I used to write songs all of the time.

Start them.

Finish them.

I wrote my first official song for the 8th grade talent show. "Put Your Hand In Mind". The lyrics were as cheesy as the title, but it was mine, and I was proud.

It was followed by "Please Don't Bring This Day to an End." I wrote it in place of a speech as the class valedictorian and president. Yes, Troy...have I mentioned that I was class valedictorian? Come on...let a girl hang on to her (grade school) glory days.

I wrote a few in high school as well and performed them at talent shows and even a baccalaureate. I accompanied myself on the piano, too. "Tell Me How You Feel", written for a heartbroken friend our freshman year followed by...uhm...another song that I can't remember the name of. And then, who could forget "Oh I Wish I Had A Boyfriend," co-written with my fellow single pal Jenny during gym class.

I didn't write much during college. I didn't have a piano at my disposal and hadn't yet learned how to play guitar. Majoring in music made music something I had to do...not something fun to do. And I found other ways to occupy my free time that didn't lead to anything constructive at all.

Ahhem.

I also wrote a few silly songs in my post-college years inspired by too many trip to McGurks. I wanted to be one of those Irish guitar-wielding geniuses with their clever lyrics and catchy melodies. After a few black and tans, I, too, felt as though I could play as well as the Irish Brigade with my original diddies. In reality, I fell short. Quite short.

The last song I wrote was eight years ago for our wedding. I surprised Troy at the reception and played along with the guitar. I was nervous, he was shocked, I mastered four chords and all was well.

There was one common thread in all of these songs. Outside of the obvious, overt CORNINESS of every single line and every single lyric...I sat down to write a song and I finished it! And I had the confidence that someone else wanted to hear it.

So it's been eight years since I've finished a song. But I've started hundreds! I'll think of a catchy chorus or interesting rhyme, write it down on paper, chart the chords. And then as soon as I hear it come out of my mouth, I deem it pure rubbish. Nonsense. Mediocre. Lame.

I'm not sure what happened. It's not as though marriage or children has made my life less interesting. Maybe less heartbreaking...but much more interesting :)

I think that I've grown up over the past 8 years. I've learned that I'm not going to be a famous singer/songwriter. I'm not going to write music with the ease and hypnotic pull of John Mayer or Norah Jones. I can still only play five chords on the guitar. And my piano is wasting away in the garage.

Yep, I've grown up.

But I think I've grown up too much.

You see, earlier in the week, as I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep...a song popped in my head. Much like it has a thousand times before. But this time, I kept repeating it. I imagined the harmonies. The drum beat. The chorus, the bridge.

And the next day, I still remembered it.

And the next.

And it's been in my head all week.

And I like it.

So...today, I'm writing this post purely for selfish reasons. To challenge myself publicly to finish it. And not only finish...but sing it for someone, even if just my boys or God above.

To be that big-banged 8th grader again with no fear of embarrassment over the words or simplicity of chords.

Hold me to it! And I encourage you to do the same.