Write LIke I Play the Piano
Here’s a confession. Whenever friends or family ask me what I’ve been up to, I lie. I tell them, Nothing much. Playing with Little James, chilling out reading, studying (insert whatever latest uni degree I’ve enrolled into). They are always white lies, intended to redirect the conversation away from what I’ve been actually doing. Which is writing. A lot. Like every spare moment of the day I can steal.
Over the years, I’ve worked out that people who are not writers don’t have much to say when I tell them I’ve been writing. In fact, it’s a sure way to land an awkward pause in the middle of the conversation, which the other person tries to cover up with questions like:
‘So when is your novel coming out’ (cue awkward laugh)
‘So what’s your book about’ (cue eyes glazing over when I give them my elevator pitch)tiger shark tank Lego
If they’re an old friend, they might say, ‘‘Are you STILL working on the same novel? What has it been now? Five years?’
Yes, five years and counting. Writing is a time-sink.
To be fair, so are other art forms like ballet, painting and playing the piano. I bet my sister, who is a brilliant musician, has never been asked, ‘How long have you been playing the piano for now? Thirty years? When are you going to be a virtuoso concert pianist?’
I’ve learned a long time ago that not all art forms are valued equally. Society values learning to play a musical instrument, regardless of whether performing at the Sydney Opera House is the end game. For writers, the craft of writing isn’t valued, only the publication and commercial success of the manuscript.
Once upon a time, I was a semi- decent pianist. I played two to three hours a day, and achieved my diploma for piano performance in my teens. Even though I hated the piano, I practiced with a sense of focus and intention, something which I lack in writing.
And yet… There are striking similarities between the two crafts.
Every day, I turn up and glue my bum to the piano/computer seat and play/ write for a couple of hours. I never jumped up in the middle of playing a piano piece to check out what’s happening on Instagram. If only I could achieve this level of concentration when I write.
Warm up exercises. I never launched into Rachmaninov’s Prelude in C# Minor without playing scales first. Maybe, instead of jumping into that complicated scene where my protagonist has to learn to drive a spacecraft with a handful of terrible physics terminology (like quantum perspectofier. Yes, I really wrote that into my manuscript. Random word generators are the worst), I should work on some simple writing exercises.
I didn’t pass my diploma in piano by learning on Youtube or practising hard on my own. I had a decade of very expensive piano lessons from music masters. Last year, I was having a mental struggle with whether or not to pay for an expensive mentorship at the Australian Writers Mentoring Program. I was doing okay with my writing but I was at the stage where I was ready to tackle Rachmaninov‘s Prelude and I knew I didn’t have the technical chops to do this. I wrestled with the decision as I transferred money from my bank to pay for my son’s gymnastic classes… then transferred more money to pay for his dancing lessons… then chased him around the house to get him to sit down at the piano with me so I could give him his piano lessons…
That’s when it hit me.
I drop at least $200 a month on extra-curricular classes for my son. My parents spent thousands of dollars on piano lessons for my sisters and I, and none of us are professional musicians. If I gifted myself professional writing lessons, no one would need to chase me around the house to make me practise. I would be the BEST, KEENEST student ever. Why is it that I feel guilty investing money in myself, and yet I would drop money for classes my son doesn't really need or want?
After that light bulb moment, I contacted the Australian Writers Mentoring Program, and as I am writing this, I am in the middle of completing a second mentorship with the brilliant Margo Lanagan. I have no regrets.
Here’s a little video I made of me playing the piano for fun - I'd planned to practise the piece for a couple of months so I could play it perfectly before posting, then I realised that this is a post about process, not performance. So here I am, rusty as hell, relying on deep muscle memory to force the notes to the surface.
Wishing y’all a happy 2023. May you enjoy the process of your creative endeavours, keep chasing your artistic dreams and don’t worry about the endgame.
