July 27, 2006
Time to finish long-delayed project
There are many projects I’ve started and abandoned over the years, and for the most part, I don’t feel bad about them. The things I’ve finished are the things I wanted to complete, and I’ve found a way to get them done.
But then there are the pieces on which I’ve spent a good deal of time, and yet they remain undone. If you define yourself, as I do in part, by your creative work, these things loom over you like the battlements of a ruined castle — the castle you erected yourself, and the one you always promised yourself you’d move into.
And so this week I’m trying to finish the last movement of a trumpet concerto I’ve been writing on and off for years. I sketched the first part of it in 1997, according to my records, and I did a lot of work on it around 2000, at which point a family crisis intervened and I put it aside.
Last year I got back to it, and completed two movements, and came up with enough material for the finale. But this year I’ve had so many interruptions that it’s remained two-thirds done for the first half of this year. And so this week, I’m vowing to buckle down and get it done; the only way to complete it now will be to schedule my free time very carefully so I can wrap it up. I’m optimistic, and I know I’ll feel wonderful when it’s complete at last.
It’s a funny thing, but finishing a big creative project isn’t about how when I’m done, it’s going to change the world. That’s not what it’s about for me. It’s about finishing something I promised myself I’d finish; what happens to it after that is sort of beside the point.
I think this is kind of odd, really. As a longtime resident of newsrooms and a onetime music school student, I’ve talked to many creative people. I’d have to say that most of them are interested in getting the novel or poem or story done, or the flute sonata, or the album of really great songs that will finally mint your disillusionment over your breakup with your nasty ex into the common coin.
But not me. If I meet my own deadline and standards for the piece, that will be enough. If I get fortunate, and I get some performances, so much the better. But the hard part will already have been over.
I don’t know whether other part-time creators out there (and there are lots of us) feel the same way, but I’d be interested to hear about it if you want to post something.
In the meantime, I’ve got an hour or two of composing to do.
Posted by at July 27, 2006 8:43 PM
Alex:
Thanks for your post, which demonstrates the generosity of spirit and sheer joy in creation I've found on both your website and Notes from the Kelp.
You're quite right; it's about passion. I once interviewed Seymour Barab for a story not too long ago, and we were talking after I'd gotten what I needed for my piece, and we started talking about composing.
He listened to what I had to say about what I was writing at the time, and then he said: Well, you must need to do it. And he added that this was critical for being a composer, even if it was part-time.
As you say: every deadline really is self-imposed. I'm on a completely different career track with my music than I am with my newspaper work, and it's exciting to be at a virtual office in my head where these things need to get done.
Anyway, I've got the final continuity draft for the last movement under way, and tomorrow I've got a day off, which should help me get even further.
So thanks again for writing, and best of luck to you on all of your musical projects.
All best,
Greg Stepanich
Bravo to you for setting aside the time to finish the piece! How wonderful.
As someone who does this wacky composing thing full time, I can tell you that my impetus and inspiration are, under the best of circumstances, the same as yours: just get the damn thing done, for the sake of having finished it and for having communicated emotions which need to be shared.
We compose because we must; because we feel we have something to say that a string of notes can get across to another human being. It would be disingenuous to compose "art music" for any other primary reasons. Which is convenient, since "art music" doesn't tend to shower its creators with other pesky, distracting reasons, like, um... fame and fortune.
The beauty of being a composer is that regardless of whether a deadline is self-imposed or the result of a pressing commission, no one is holding a gun to our heads to do this work: it's our choice. Our passion. And thus, every deadline really is self-imposed, and just meeting our own demands is the primary incentive. If other people's demands get met along the way, too, well that's just great!
Happy writing!
Alex
