I have been writing songs for about two and a half years now. To be exact, I wrote one song for a class around four years ago, but I didn’t write anything anything after that one for about a year. Then, for some strange reason, I started again in the fall of 2010. Some of the songs come to me almost fully formed, others begin as snippets of melody that gradually change into longer forms. Some of the snippets of melody come to me in the car, while I am commuting to or from the next subbing job. Some have words right away; for some, I struggle with the words over and over again.
Some of the songs come to me with a rhythm that I struggle to write down. I used to think that I was pretty good at rhythm, but have lately discovered that that simply isn’t true – at least now. Maybe I was better at rhythm when I was younger.
When I started writing again in the fall of 2010, most of the songs I wrote were sad and painful. My music teacher encouraged me to branch out a bit, setting objectives such as writing about an abstract idea, a funny incident, or an inanimate object. One of my best songs is about the chairs in my living room.
My husband has never liked music. He has tolerated my interest in singing from the time we were first dating to now. I don’t blame him for not being interested in my song-writing. It just isn’t an interest or understanding of his. What I do blame him and my children for is making fun of my interest in music. He and they joke about having to go to my recitals or concerts.
My older daughter is the only one of the two “kids” who has heard any of the songs that I have written. Both she and her sister listen to music a lot – practically all of their waking free time. The younger one goes to live music concerts near and far from where she lives. Both have wide interests in music.
So, why are they so disdainful of my music? The younger one has never even heard a single song that I have written. She has heard me sing – and she may not like my voice, but she hasn’t heard any of the songs I have written. Other people have told me that, at least the Chairs song is really good. But, when they were home for the holidays, the fact that I offered to sing it for her was treated as a big joke.
They didn’t know that I cried myself to sleep that night. One of my best songs is about the anger and hurt I felt at their rejection. The Song You Won’t Hear.