Heather S. Ingemar's Blog, page 35

'Tis the season of giving…

…And therefore, I would like to give to you a free copy of my single, "Wait for You.". It will be available for download off my Bandcamp page through the rest of the month.

Also, please feel free to share it amongst yourselves, family, friends, etc. All my work is released under the Creative Commons license (see the sidebar), because I believe — not only that anonymity is the enemy of creativity — but that music and art is something to be shared. Art keeps us human. Art gives us a sense of place, a sense of belonging, and fosters a sense of community. How can art do that when it can't be shared?

To make a tall soapbox short, all I ask is that when you pass my work along, tell people where you found it. (hint, hint)

These next few weeks are going to be busy, so if I don't check in, I wish you all a lovely holiday season spent in the company of those you love.

Blessed be.

And yet more hobbies…

It's been a year

So, it' s been a year.

When I decided to try songwriting, I promised myself I'd pursue it for a year. It was — more or less — a leap of faith. I had no idea if I'd have what it took to keep it up. I had no idea if I'd have what it took to even be decent at it. I had no idea.

As of today, I look back and I believe I have found my niche.

This is not an easy thing to admit. For a long time, I'd thought I already had "found my place." I thought I found it in classical music. In jazz. In folk music. And I thought I'd found it in writing, first in technical essays, and later, in short stories.

Looking back, I see a big difference.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: writing was work. As a child, I never imagined that I would become an author. Not until my creative writing prof in college mentioned it had I even considered the option. I put in long hours at the computer working to wrestle the words where I wanted them. Eventually, it made sense… Even though most days felt like I was pulling my own teeth…

Music was always my first love, even when I came to terms with the fact that I didn't have the drive — or physical prowess — to become a concert musician. The first thing I notice about a place is the sound. The first thing I notice when talking to someone is the cadence and song in their speech. I go through my days listening to an internal radio, and break into song on occasion…

See? Big difference.

Looking back, I realize that every little step led me here. Writing a song feels as easy as breathing. Now I walk through my day listening to lyrics-in-progress, to melodies I've discovered in this crazy brain of mine. There's work and sweat, yes, but it's not like pulling teeth.

Big. Difference.

So, today, I look back and realize that this is it. This is worth so much more than one year.

It's worth a lifetime.

Shatterproof will be… late

I haven't forgotten, I swear. Shatterproof will just be a little late.

Stay tuned!

My own little journey

Come away, come away with me

We'll see the world beyond the trees

Come away, come away with me

We'll be like birds upon the breeze

~"Gypsy Song"

It's wintertime now, and that means I'm taking a hiatus from regular performing to start work on the new album, "Let Me Go." It's about time. I've been planning on it since before I finished "Fledgling."

And yet…

Part of me feels a bit like I've already outgrown "Let Me Go."  Part of me wants to go play — go explore new musical territory — instead of hunkering down to preserve what I've got and where I've been, though it is a necessary step for posterity.

Part of me wants to find a captive audience and cajole them into helping me find what works, what doesn't, and what road I should take.

Part of me knows it's a solitary path best explored by myself, because I know what I like and the climb is bound to be rough.

I'm impatient, however; I want things done NOW, and I keep having to remind myself that there's time enough for everything… And everything in its own due time…

The Wonderful World of Strings

I felt like I wanted something different, and so the other day I changed strings on Sparrow. My GHS silk & bronze lights were about shot after all the performing I've done, so it was time, anyway.

Bear doesn't care what strings I use, so long as I let him sleep in Sparrow's case for more than 30 minutes at a time.

Now, I've always been fascinated with nylon strings. Perhaps it has something to do with my predilection for antiquated music. So this time, instead of replacing Sparrow's strings with another set of steels, I decided to try a set of "folk" nylons.

There was a little bit of work to be had before I could even tune up. I had to take some fine sandpaper to her nut to widen the string slots, especially the three highest strings (nylon strings have a heavier gauge than steels).

And the verdict is still out, although I am finding they are growing on me:

They aren't so hard to tune — when I'd tune before, it always felt like I might break a string because the tuning pegs turned so hard. Now they tune nice and light.
They sound great for mellow strumming on medieval and early Celtic music.
They seem to tune up nicely with a capo.
I reeeeelly like that I can play with my bare fingers and not tear the ends of my fingers off doing it.

I'm not entirely sure, however, if they fit *my* music. And they buzz a little bit if I get too exuberant in my strumming (nylon strings vibrate in a wider arc than steel strings do, due to the nature of the materials).

If I decide to keep them, at a later date I may have to have some fret/nut/neck work done on Sparrow to make them play even better. For now, though, I'm going to leave them on (yes, I'm cheap). Maybe by the time the next string change comes around, I'll have made up my mind.

Other hobbies

This is what I've been working on these last couple weeks:

That second pic is a little on the blurry side, sadly; it's much prettier in person.

Thankful

Today (and all the other days of the year) I am thankful for many things:

That I live in a country where I am free to pursue happiness in whatever way I choose
That even though I am female, I live in a country where I am able to pursue these things
That I can sing and make music
That I can write
That I can think
That I can feel
That I have a wonderful family who supports me, emotionally and psychologically
That I have healthy cows, happy dogs, and loving cats to make me smile on days when I feel down
That I have — not one — but three very awesome jobs
That I am rich — not financially, but in quality of life
That I have learned many new skills this year
That I am stronger now than I've ever been, that I have gained the confidence to withstand most of the hurts I am handed
That I have been able to touch individual lives with my music, my writing, and my creativity

Tomorrow, I hope you all have something to be thankful for, and I hope you can share it with those you love.

Best wishes,

~Heather

No Shatterproof installment on 26th

Since most people are likely going to spend the weekend with family and friends, I am postponing the next installment of Shatterproof until December 3rd.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Shatterproof VII: A Hard Place

[image] He cleared his throat.  "Luce's underlings will track you here.  I've got a safe house lined up, but we'll have to keep you moving for at least a couple of weeks – to be sure we've given them the slip."  The napkin in his hands turned into chaff.

"What?" I shrieked, standing quickly and knocking my chair over.  "You're not going to do anything about Dad?"

"I promised him I'd look after you –"  He hesitated, then reached for my arm to calm me, to sit me back down like a child.

"If we wait, he could be dead!"  I jerked my arm free of his touch.

Collin opened his mouth to argue with me, but took a breath instead.  "No," he said.

I glared at him.  "What?  I thought you knew my Dad – doesn't that mean anything?"

"Leslie, you can't be serious!" he said.  "If you go looking for Dr. Harlan, it's a trap!"

I regarded my babysitter carefully.  "It's my choice to try," I said.

He was on his feet, kicking at the air, doing an angry dance on the linoleum.  "No way!  I made a promise, and I intend to keep it – to do anything else is suicide!"

I shook my head.  "He's my Dad. If you won't help me, I'll do it myself. I'm not afraid." It was a lie, but I wasn't about to let him know that. He stopped his angry dance to scowl at me as I started out of the kitchen.

"Leslie, wait."

I turned and stood with my arms folded. Collin leaned back on the small counter. He hung his head, and for long moments the faint noise of commercials permeated the silence.  "I know someone we can talk to," he said at last. "We can at least get some information before going on a hair-brained goose chase."

"Great," I replied, bending to right my fallen chair.  "When do I get my gun back?"

He watched me from the corner of his eye.  "As soon as I know you won't shoot me.  Again," he said.

"Only if you don't behave," I replied sweetly, batting my eyelashes for good measure.

* * *

(This piece is part of an ongoing serial story. You can catch up on the plot via the Serials page. If you liked this work, please consider purchasing one of my other stories, or some of my music for your collection. )