Perfection is impossible, but we strive for it. Never do we walk along the beach looking for broken seashells. We seek perfectly shaped sand dollars, round and unblemished by the sea. Practice makes perfect. This old proverb dates back to the mid-1500’s.
As a kid, I hated to practice the piano. But I did.
That metronome bored into my brain – tick, tick, TICK! My teacher banged on the piano when she played, shaking the floor and vibrating the bench where we sat thigh to thigh. No matter how well I played Waltzing Matilda at home in the living room, I couldn’t replicate it in her garage turned piano studio… She made me nervous, and she smelled of eggs.
I recently attended a writing seminar in Eureka Springs hosted by writer Crescent Dragonwagon. Fearless Writing in the Ozarks. It was an Aha(!) event—part writing, part therapy, part slumber party. The class is different each time, based upon the dynamic energy of the people involved. We drafted off one another like race cars. One story led to another. And another.
I left Fearless inspired with new ideas, new skills. But perhaps the most important thing I realized was writing takes practice, like any other worthwhile endeavor—training for a marathon, stretching into a yoga pose, playing a musical instrument.
Making straight A’s in English or writing a decent haiku in 7th grade doesn’t exempt me from practice.
Writing practice is writing every day without a purpose. Writing for fun. Writing something no one will ever see. A poem, random thoughts, observations, a Christmas list. Anything. Just show up. For fifteen minutes. The mind becomes free and clear to do ‘real’ writing.
Today is Day 20 of my practice. Already I find I don’t need a gimmick to motivate myself to practice write. Practice writing motivates me.
Yesterday my closet exploded as I excavated last year’s crumpled Christmas wrapping paper. Moving a box overhead, sheet music rained down. Piano sheet music—White Christmas.
There was a time I practiced playing that song…
Our piano has been silent for years, more of an object d’art. It currently displays my nativity scene. Maybe I’ll start practicing the piano again too?
Maybe.
And–part slumber party. You nailed it!
I used to run marathons. During active training, I’d run sometimes five hours straight to prepare. Boy, did I practice. I knew I’d never be a great runner, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to get over the finish line.
Now that same analogy applies to my writing. Practice–daily, consistent, day in and day out practice–will get me over the finish line, over and over again. Since I have a bit more writing talent than I did running talent, it will not only get me over a finish line, but also improve my work. After all, talent is nothing without practice.
That insight would not have come to me except for Crescent’s Fearless Writing workshop. And I would not have met you, either :)!
Thanks Laura! I had NO talent for the piano. I’d like to think my writing has more possibilities than my piano playing:)) And I was never much of a runner…
No one ever made me suffer through piano lessons, praise be! Though I love to listen to piano music.
And this may have been a definite advantage of moving so much as a child:))
You could take piano lessons again!! Maybe I could too! NOT
NOT is right.
Oh those dreadful piano lessons! I never did enjoy it and didn’t get much past chop sticks.
🙂
I was a piano major! Uncountable hours of practice that paid off in a music-teacher career. All my old Christmas music sits on the piano waiting for … oh, heck, it’s there for decoration. Perhaps when I get everything else done, I’ll sit down and play–if I still can. Since I retired, I haven’t touched the blond oak Baldwin studio upright I bought in 1960 to teach piano lessons on. Now writing’s another thing. I’ve just now written. Love you/your writing.
Please share the haiku from 7th grade, want to see how the young version thought compared to present version!
Do it, play that piano. It’s never too late to pick up an old skill, dust it off, bring it up-to-date and get some more fun out of it. Maybe you can even share a video of your highs and lows of playing with us *grin* Enjoyed the cyclical nature of your write.
I did attempt to play White Christmas soon after this post. If only I had been videoing! The best part was seeing Annabelle, my one year old white Schnauzer, race upstairs, frightened to death by the noise suddenly coming from the giant black box – the box she had never heard speak until that moment. She stayed upstairs trembling for quite some time and took a wide berth around the piano the remainder of the day… My playing was that bad.
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