While searching for a career that would meet my criteria, I occasionally performed my music in small concert arenas. Very small. Places like my living room, or the tailgate of a pickup truck in someone's driveway or a parking lot. Well, word-of-mouth advertising (my younger sister being the main contributor) forced me to find a larger venue for my performances. It just so happened that my older sister had purchased a sandwich shop and needed someone to run it for her. What a perfect arrangement! I could serve up sandwiches for lunch and a little music for those folks who stopped in for a cold one after work.
I was quite overwhelmed by the reception I received from people who weren't even related to me! This limelight took me back to those days of talent shows and my mother's adulation. I was really in the big time. The group of regulars I had acquired would insist that I play at least three songs before serving up each round. Wow! If they liked me this much, maybe I should try and branch out a little. Maybe find a place that would let me play for an hour or two, without stopping to make a sandwich. I somehow managed to convince the owner of a local establishment that specialized in wine and local art that I had enough talent to entertain their "higher class" of clientele. I played for free, of course, but that didn't matter, I was getting the exposure I needed.
Judging by the response I had been receiving up to this point, I was on my way to fame and fortune for sure. Could this be it? Could this be the career I was looking for? Probably not. It wasn't very noble, and it seemed kind of selfish. I enjoyed it too much for it to be a mission from God. I'd better keep one eye open for my real purpose while I enjoyed this gift I had been given.
It was a gift. I did recognize that. I always knew that I wasn't the one writing the songs. I couldn't even read music for crying out loud! The gift was for me, though. It was God's way of letting me keep my sanity. It was the only way I could expel those pent-up emotions that would, otherwise, fill me up till I exploded! As long as I was writing and singing, those voices in my head were quiet. The fact that other people actually enjoyed hearing about all my trials and tribulations put to music, was just a bonus. I didn't quite understand it, but as long as they were willing to listen, I was willing to play.
I eventually convinced other establishments to allow me to set up in the corner and sing while their customers enjoyed a little libation. Sometimes, I even got paid. People would stroll in and out, on their way to here and there, and occasionally notice me in the corner. After awhile, they started showing up just because I was in the corner.
Every once in a while, someone would request a popular song written by someone else and performed by some famous singer. A little embarrassed, I would reply, "I take requests, but only if it’s something I wrote!" They would laugh and let it go, but I, on the other hand, wondered what the heck I thought I was doing, trying to be a performer without any real material. What a relief it would be when my real calling came along.
I began to develop quite a following. I had a mailing list and sent out newsletters and calendars of my upcoming performances to my growing list of fans. They were all certain that I was going to hit the big time. I got caught up in their enthusiasm. Before I knew it, I had slipped back into my old habits of setting goals and putting time limits on them.
"I'm going to make it before I'm thirty!" That, I thought, was plenty of time.
Of course the occasional naysayer would show up and try to burst my balloon. You know, the guy with all the experience that's been there and done that, and says "You can't get there from here."
"You have to pay your dues before you can get anywhere," I was told, by someone who had been trying to make it for twenty-five years.
"I thought I had," I said. "Where do you think all this material came from?"
With a very cynical look on his face, he said sarcastically, "In the music business, I mean."
Now, that hadn't occurred to me. Maybe I didn't know enough about the music business. Maybe I needed to take a step back; figure out how this whole thing works. Maybe I should get some advice and direction, take control. Maybe I needed a plan. Maybe I wasn't . . .
. . . on my way.