Competition, defeat, and learning to move on

If you've been following my Facebook feed in the last couple weeks, you'll know I had been preparing for a big talent competition in Oregon. Yesterday, I competed, performing two of my own songs ("Walk with Me" and "Let Me Go") for a panel of judges and a park full of people.

Unfortunately, I didn't make the cut.

It has been ten (eleven?) years since I was last in a talent competition, and I'll say this: it's an entirely different ballgame when you're playing your own music instead of things other people wrote. If you get docked covering a song by another artist, it's luck of the draw. Maybe they didn't like that artist? Maybe the piece didn't fit you? Maybe the piece wasn't a good fit for the audience? All reasonable conclusions. This time, I played two of my own songs, and no matter how you try to distance yourself, to be objective, the fact that it was your own music makes defeat more emotional. Even though you try to be rational, it still feels like a personal affront.

I spent last night doubting my ability as a musician, as a songwriter, and as an entertainer. I, in my neurotic Pisces fashion, kept re-hashing every moment of my performance, wondering if the outcome may have been different had I played a different instrument, had I chosen and rehearsed different songs.

But that's not the point.

The point is, this is life. I've known all along that not everyone is going to enjoy my music — be it classical, jazz, Celtic, folk, or my own material. As my husband so aptly put it, "You can't please everybody." And he's right (as he usually is). There are types of music I'm simply not fond of — how can I expect everyone to be on board with my choice of material? The point is, I can't. And why should a competition be any different than anything else?

At the end of the day, I write and play the types of songs I want to play. This weekend reminded me of that. Music is art, and art shouldn't be created for money or fame or other, similar reasons (thank you again, Honey, for putting it so beautifully). Fundamentally, music should be created because you love it, because you get enjoyment out of putting something of beauty into the world.

I am a singer-songwriter, and I play and share my music because I love doing it. I needed a reminder of this, and ultimately, I am glad to have received one.