Heather S. Ingemar's Blog, page 40

Summertime

It's finally here: summertime.

The hay is being swathed, and my evenings and weekends have been filled with hay-hauling, hay-moving, hay-stacking, and that wonderful smell of fresh-cut grass (only sweeter). I wake up in the morning and my shoulders and back and fingers ache from the labor-intensive job of moving little square bales of cow food for the winter. The bales from this first cutting (first cutting because winter hung on so long — normally we'd be on second or third cutting right now) are light enough I don't mind the stacking, and at the end of the day I'm not so dog-tired that I can't sleep.

I haven't gotten a whole lot of music-making done, although I have been noodling with my own work. Husband said a lot of my music is more guitar-oriented (with the exception of "Wait for You" — that one's an ukulele song through and through), and after taking a step back and listening, he's very right. So this weekend, I purchased a small-scale acoustic guitar. The one I'd had since I was ten was WAY TOO BIG and rather uncomfortable to play, so that's why I decided on a small-scale "travel" guitar. It's supposed to arrive today and I'm excited. I also ordered a soundhole electric pickup for it — which I hope will fit! — so with any luck I can play it live.

Life is busy. Thunderstorms repeatedly rage and run across the foothills here and I can't help but think I'm a little like them — so filled with movement and doing that am unable to sit still…

Good food, good music, and good friends

It feels like it's been forever since I managed to attend a jam night with my musician buddies, so last night was a welcome diversion!

There were more musicians than patrons at the brewpub, and I had so much fun! Too much fun, really. It was almost like coming home, in a way, after having been so busy between farming and performing — everyone was as happy to see me as I was to see them. (Whether they like it or not, they're like family to me. ) And the music! It was "high and mighty" (as they might say in Irish circles) until well after 10pm, and quite possibly after 11pm.

Even though I'm really dragging my feet today, I still have a smile on my face whenever I think about the trading of tunes, camaraderie, and awesome musicianship from last night.

It truly is amazing what people can accomplish when they get together.

 

Loving that feeling

I love that feeling when every revision makes the words more and more *right* and the melody takes shape before you've even had a chance to pick up your instrument.

As you may have guessed, I finished another song last night. As with most of the songs I finish, I'm rather fond of it! It's about leaving — the good kind that's so hard to do. The kind of leaving that you do when you need to go out and pursue your dreams — the kind of leaving that everyone should do at least once in their life.

I always approach my songwriting from the same direction I approach my fiction writing: "what's the story here?" Even the ones that are very personal, or the ones that have just a tiny grain of personal in them. This one — I'm calling it "Let Me Go" — was no different, but oddly enough, I think it's got a good underlying message for all parties involved in this situation. Sometimes, you have to let go. Sometimes, you have to pursue your dreams. All too often, we get stuck in the "safe" and in the "comfortable," when we really can shine if we allow ourselves to take a little risk.

"Let Me Go" (cc) July 2011, Heather Stearns

Because I'm leaving

And I don't know when I'll return

And I'll miss you

But there's so much

More I've got to learn

And watching me walk

Right out that door

Is gonna be the worst

Damn thing I know

But if you love someone

You gotta let them go

So let me go

A comfortable quiet

I find lately that I haven't had a lot to write about, though I've been very busy. On the other hand, I've almost finished another song, and been thoroughly enjoying my recent performances, so it's not like I haven't been doing anything creative…

I guess I've just been… enjoying life.

Before the show

I don't get nerves. In terms of getting up on the stage, I'm rarely what you'd call "anxious." So long as my equipment and gear are in good functioning order, I have no fears, no worries, and no concerns.

I do, however, get very excited.

Tonight I'm performing again at Dayton Wine Works, and it's going to be a blast. It's a beautiful, sunny day — which will make for a lovely sunset — and I'm looking forward to sharing a bunch more of my new (original!) music with everyone who shows up.

See you tonight!

"Fledgling" coming soon!

I got four songs recorded the other day for this, and I have a few more to do. Then, it's cleaning up the tracks, mixing, and it will be done!

Can't believe it's actually going to happen…

The world from the stage

On stage at the Laht Neppur Ale House, June 25th. This was a SWEET show!

Everything looks a little bit different from the stage. Sure, it's still Earth, and it's still a restaurant/bar/pub/auditorium/etcetera filled with people, but it's a little different.

When you're on the stage, the room has a certain… energy. It can feel "hot" or "cold," not so much in terms of physical temperature, but in terms of how much you have to put into your performance. Excellent audiences — vibrant, enthusiastic, listeners — have the power to make a room completely "hot." It's easy to play for these people, because they give feedback as strongly as you perform. If you're playing a jiving song and totally cooking at it, they're going to give you applause, whistles, appreciative whoops, and the like. If the room is "cold," where the audience is not really listening, not paying attention, it makes it very hard to play. You put out everything you have and get nothing back. (This is when musicianing is haaaarrrrd wooooork, and please note that by "cold," I am in NO WAY referring to rude or belligerent crowds. That's a whole 'nother kettle of fish.)

I've played for "hot" and "cold" rooms (it's almost a guarantee when you sign on for this musician thing), but I've never had both in the same night at the same establishment…! It was a very unusual experience, and just goes to show that the tenor of a crowd can — literally! — change in an instant. It's a very strange phenomenon to come up against; to one minute be completely cooking, then to come back from a break to feel like you're playing in a fishtank of murky water…

This is why it's important to keep a level head. Many musicians I've met over the years would throw a fit about this kind of stuff. They'd play one song and storm out of the establishment because they aren't getting the "attention they deserve." Maybe they're right, but it's still no excuse to get in a snit. IMHO, you DON'T sign on to be a musician if you don't get any enjoyment out of playing, period. So what if you don't have a rapt, captive audience? You still enjoy playing music, right? So play!

"At the end of the day, it's the music that matters most." ~Bill Ochs

Destiny, luck, and success

I have been thinking a lot about this lately. It seems I'm not the only one.

Toward the end of her article on writerly jealousy, author Maggie Stiefvater talks about the idea of luck and destiny in the publishing world. How there is this prevailing sense that you have to be in the *right* place at the *right* time or you won't make it. She goes on to talk about how rather than leaving her career as a writer up to chance, she considered it an inevitable possibility.

Inevitable.

This is what gets me. I agree with Ms. Stiefvater. These sorts of things have nothing to do with "luck." I have over 20 years of musical experience under my belt. I have spent at least five years studying writing, and at least another five more before seeking publication. It's blood, sweat, tears, determination, grit, and — as my Grandfather would say — moxie, that have gotten me where I am. Anything worth doing takes time, and work, and perseverance. You have to have faith in yourself, you have to have the determination to get it right. Get those ducks in a row? Success will find you. It might take weeks, months, years, but if you keep. at. it. things will eventually fall into place.

Anything worth doing takes time, work, and perseverance.

An open letter to Yahoo! Mail

Dear Yahoo! Mail:

I have been a loyal member since college. I have touted your usability, your excellent spam filters, and your prompt technical support staff. After bouncing between email providers, you have fulfilled every email need I ever had. Your service has been the best, and I have recommended you to countless others.

So why do you insist on alienating me? Sending me arm-twisting emails to get me to upgrade to a new version of your webmail which, I can assure you with utmost certainty, will most likely NOT work on my antiquated machine? Not kosher, my Yahoo! peeps. I have no other Internet option but dial-up, and it takes plenty long enough for my connection and my faithful Dell to load your Mail Classic, and yet you insist I must upgrade?

You may think me paranoid, or frivolous, or un-techy, but I bravely tried your new version when it was in Beta testing, and I spent over two hours — yes, TWO HOURS — waiting to even see my Inbox.

Dear Yahoo! Mail, I do creative freelance work when I'm not manning either of my two day jobs. That means answering, sending, and receiving myriad emails in my evening hours. It is unconscionable that you would dare to take that from me. That is like tying a boxer's arm behind his back. That's like asking a concert pianist to play Rachmaninoff's most difficult concerto one handed. It is hard for me to believe that you would develop a product that handicaps users such as I. One of the first rules of web design is accessibility — and you should strive to develop sites that are proven to work on all Internet speeds and monitor resolutions. Surely your developers remember this from Web Design 101?

Sadly, it appears you have forgotten. And I am afraid, my dear Yahoo! Mail, that if you persist in this ill-conceived plot, I will be forced to withdraw all my recommendations and take my own membership elsewhere.

Sincerely,

A creative freelancer and adamant email user.

The best part of my weekend

The best part of my crazy-busy weekend? When my young nephew (who is really into tractors and trucks) asked me where the engine was located on my ukulele…