Voice
A baby grows up in the woods with the squirrels and opossums and birds. Without someone, preferably a human, to set an example, to teach the child something about communication, that baby will learn to make noises, but not recognizable ones in the form of words and sentences laced with meaning.
Similarly, Regina wants to be a concert pianist because she happened to see someone play a piano on television during Macy’s Christmas Parade one cold winter day. So she’s gifted with a Steinway Baby Grand from her generous parents on her third birthday, and begins to immediately hammer away at it day after noisy day. No teacher, no mentor, no sheet music, not even a CD player blasting Valerie Tryon or a radio station tuned to a popular classical radio station for inspiration. “Keep practicing; you’ll get the hang of it,” her father tells her. “Oh, aren’t you doing well!” her mother says, beaming. Then on her fourth birthday the boy next door visits and teaches her to play chopsticks. Her parents are proud—their child is a prodigy.
At age eight her cousin, Tom, introduces her to Ray Charles, and she picks up a few bars which she tries to imitate, but fails to a large degree. At twelve, she hears a John Tesh piece, “Barcelona,” and begs to begin piano lessons, but the Steinway has to be sold, her parents tell her, to pay for her older brother’s skydiving lessons. Regina is crushed. Her dreams are put on hold, and she settles for a cheap keyboard from a cheap department store the following Christmas. But she doesn’t give up.
Before much longer Regina is playing pop and rock and folk and jazz on her cheap keyboard, and her parents rethink the piano lessons and the Steinway. Tom no longer needs skydiving lessons because he has two broken legs from his last lesson, but Regina is beyond hoping her dreams will come true so doesn’t hold her breath. Instead, she begins to check out books from the library: “How to Become a Concert Pianist in 10 Easy Steps,” “Careers in Concert Pianistry,” “Concert Piano Playing for Idiots” and other such engaging tomes. She flies through them all in no time and soon has to request books from larger libraries than the New York City Public Library where she has become a regular patron. But she is still denied lessons and, worse, she has never heard a recognized concert pianist play even a sour note on an off-key piano.
The day finally arrives when, at age forty-four, Regina decides it’s time to step out and make her own decisions, follow her own dreams. It’s time to hire a teacher. Her mother is opposed, worried about retirement, and her father just wants his baby to play chopsticks for him one more time.
Regina buys tickets to hear Richard Goode at Carnegie Hall at the prodding of a friend. She doesn’t want to leave her mother for an entire evening but decides it might be worth the risk. After all, Mother’s hearing is going and she will be fast asleep while Regina is gone anyway. It’s a special night so she dresses especially nice, somehow finding herself in the pre-concert Meet & Greet line, then face to face with the eminent pianist. She fumbles around, not knowing what to say, but it is enough; she has been inspired by the mere sight of him, the touch of his ethereal fingers.
When the concert begins, Regina is swept away as in a vision, exalted to the third heaven, dreams she meets the Apostle Paul, and realizes at that second she must become what Richard Goode is, or life just won’t be worth it.
For the next days and weeks and months, she works hard (she hired the teacher), listens and learns, and begins to “get” it. Whenever a new concert is announced, she immediately buys a ticket and sits as close to the front as possible. Each time, she is swept away as in a vision, exalted to the third heaven, dreams she meets the Apostle Paul, and realizes at that second she must become what the pianist is, or life just won’t be worth it.
After listening and learning for months and then years, after hearing many experts do their thing, after working hard to perfect her own skills, she finally begins to get comfortable with her cheap keyboard, but at the same time she has been eyeing a Steinway much like the one she had as a child. Due to cost, however, she puts it off. One day, one fated and glorious day, she passes a Steinway store in New York City and says to herself, “It’s time. I know what I’m doing and I know what I want.” She buys the piano and pays on it monthly with her job as a janitor at Carnegie Hall (this is how she could afford to attend all the piano concerts).
Regina has found her voice. Regina finally calls herself an aspiring pianist. A few years later, she gives her first recital. And at age sixty, she enthralls and captivates a very large audience, whisks them away as if in a vision, exalts them to the third heaven where they dream they meet the Apostle Paul while realizing they too want to accomplish something as magnificent and awe-inspiring as the lady on the stage.
Regina has come home.
___________________
Writing voice is coming home after all is said and done.
Writing voice is who you are when you’re sixty and qualified.
Writing voice is pecking away on a Steinway with your favorite pen and transporting a discriminating audience to the third heaven. And whether or not they meet the Apostle Paul isn’t important; they’ll want to do what you do. They’ll want to live a life like that, a life of accomplishment. This is writing voice. This is Regina’s legacy.
A baby grows up in the woods with the squirrels and opossums and birds. Without someone, preferably a human, to set an example, to teach the child something about communication, that baby will learn to make noises, but not recognizable ones in the form of words and sentences laced with meaning.
Similarly, Regina wants to be a concert pianist because she happened to see someone play a piano on television during Macy’s Christmas Parade one cold winter day. So she’s gifted with a Steinway Baby Grand from her generous parents on her third birthday, and begins to immediately hammer away at it day after noisy day. No teacher, no mentor, no sheet music, not even a CD player blasting Valerie Tryon or a radio station tuned to a popular classical radio station for inspiration. “Keep practicing; you’ll get the hang of it,” her father tells her. “Oh, aren’t you doing well!” her mother says, beaming. Then on her fourth birthday the boy next door visits and teaches her to play chopsticks. Her parents are proud—their child is a prodigy.
At age eight her cousin, Tom, introduces her to Ray Charles, and she picks up a few bars which she tries to imitate, but fails to a large degree. At twelve, she hears a John Tesh piece, “Barcelona,” and begs to begin piano lessons, but the Steinway has to be sold, her parents tell her, to pay for her older brother’s skydiving lessons. Regina is crushed. Her dreams are put on hold, and she settles for a cheap keyboard from a cheap department store the following Christmas. But she doesn’t give up.
Before much longer Regina is playing pop and rock and folk and jazz on her cheap keyboard, and her parents rethink the piano lessons and the Steinway. Tom no longer needs skydiving lessons because he has two broken legs from his last lesson, but Regina is beyond hoping her dreams will come true so doesn’t hold her breath. Instead, she begins to check out books from the library: “How to Become a Concert Pianist in 10 Easy Steps,” “Careers in Concert Pianistry,” “Concert Piano Playing for Idiots” and other such engaging tomes. She flies through them all in no time and soon has to request books from larger libraries than the New York City Public Library where she has become a regular patron. But she is still denied lessons and, worse, she has never heard a recognized concert pianist play even a sour note on an off-key piano.
The day finally arrives when, at age forty-four, Regina decides it’s time to step out and make her own decisions, follow her own dreams. It’s time to hire a teacher. Her mother is opposed, worried about retirement, and her father just wants his baby to play chopsticks for him one more time.
Regina buys tickets to hear Richard Goode at Carnegie Hall at the prodding of a friend. She doesn’t want to leave her mother for an entire evening but decides it might be worth the risk. After all, Mother’s hearing is going and she will be fast asleep while Regina is gone anyway. It’s a special night so she dresses especially nice, somehow finding herself in the pre-concert Meet & Greet line, then face to face with the eminent pianist. She fumbles around, not knowing what to say, but it is enough; she has been inspired by the mere sight of him, the touch of his ethereal fingers.
When the concert begins, Regina is swept away as in a vision, exalted to the third heaven, dreams she meets the Apostle Paul, and realizes at that second she must become what Richard Goode is, or life just won’t be worth it.
For the next days and weeks and months, she works hard (she hired the teacher), listens and learns, and begins to “get” it. Whenever a new concert is announced, she immediately buys a ticket and sits as close to the front as possible. Each time, she is swept away as in a vision, exalted to the third heaven, dreams she meets the Apostle Paul, and realizes at that second she must become what the pianist is, or life just won’t be worth it.
After listening and learning for months and then years, after hearing many experts do their thing, after working hard to perfect her own skills, she finally begins to get comfortable with her cheap keyboard, but at the same time she has been eyeing a Steinway much like the one she had as a child. Due to cost, however, she puts it off. One day, one fated and glorious day, she passes a Steinway store in New York City and says to herself, “It’s time. I know what I’m doing and I know what I want.” She buys the piano and pays on it monthly with her job as a janitor at Carnegie Hall (this is how she could afford to attend all the piano concerts).
Regina has found her voice. Regina finally calls herself an aspiring pianist. A few years later, she gives her first recital. And at age sixty, she enthralls and captivates a very large audience, whisks them away as if in a vision, exalts them to the third heaven where they dream they meet the Apostle Paul while realizing they too want to accomplish something as magnificent and awe-inspiring as the lady on the stage.
Regina has come home.
___________________
Writing voice is coming home after all is said and done.
Writing voice is who you are when you’re sixty and qualified.
Writing voice is pecking away on a Steinway with your favorite pen and transporting a discriminating audience to the third heaven. And whether or not they meet the Apostle Paul isn’t important; they’ll want to do what you do. They’ll want to live a life like that, a life of accomplishment. This is writing voice. This is Regina’s legacy.