How Do You Get To Carnegie Hall?

May 2, 2008

It's the old joke, right? Somebody stops a pedestrian in Manhattan and says, "How do you get to Carnegie Hall?"

The pedestrian says, "Practice, practice, practice."

My youngest son, Sean, had a 4th grade concert on Tuesday. When we got to the auditorium at the high school, we seemed to have an opening act--2 or 3 adult musicians were off to one side playing violin and viola and cello.

As it turned out, one was a professor of violin at the University of Michigan and the two ladies were string education majors. Oxford Schools has a strong music program, but they don't have an orchestra program... until now. So they were there to announce that Oxford was starting a strings program in the 5th grade next year and the professor gave a little talk and then the two ladies played a couple tunes. They were great.

The professor commented that when you first get a violin it sounds like this: and then he played a creaky, squeaky bit. And commented that typically after 7 or 8 weeks you wanted to throw the damned thing away. But that it took a lot of hard work and time to get as good as the ladies who were about to play.

I've been a musician of sorts for most of my life. I started playing piano at the age of 8, began saxophone when I was in 5th grade. And now I'm taking guitar lessons after a nearly 20-year hiatus from actually making music. At one time I taught both saxophone and piano.

I really do understand that there's a learning curve and I really do take my understanding of this to my study of guitar. I do understand that a little bit of work over a long period of time will have significant benefits. I know the value of repetition and rarely get bored with it. I understand that when I have a problem with a particular section of music, the thing to do is to isolate that section and repeat it slowly over and over and over and over again. I do understand that, yes, it takes time, but you do improve. I understand that improvement is usually incremental, but sometimes you do take leaps. I understand that listening carefully to music and other guitarists is part of the educational process.

I have noted, however, that aspiring writers don't seem to get this. I think it has something to do with being taught to read and write in first grade. So by the time everyone's an adult, they figure they know all they need to know about writing. That the only difference between their writing and a professional writer is the professionals are getting paid. (A not insignificant difference).

Sometimes they're right.

Most of the time they're wrong.

There is a big difference. And most professionals writers have put in their time. They have written a million unpublished and probably unpublishable words. They have figured out how to rewrite. They have figured out that when there's something wrong, they need to work on it to fix it. They have figured out that there are different techniques involved in good writing and they don't always work in the same situation. They have written a lot over a long period of time. They have read a lot. They have read critically, reading why Dickens works, why Stephen King works, why Lee Child works, why some other writers get published, but maybe don't work. (I'm often surprised, though, when, for instance, I hear all the criticism of someone like King or, more recently, all the criticism about Dan Brown and "The Da Vinci Code." Particularly from already published writers who are having a seriously case of green envy. "He's a hack," "his characters are wooden" etc, etc. But they're missing the point. Read Dan Brown and don't look at his failings as a writer--okay, go ahead, but try to make sure you don't do the same things--but look at Dan Brown's books and figure out what he does right and why his books are so successful. Maybe it has to do with pace, with texture, with the scope of the story. I, for one, find the concept of a treasure hunt where the clues are hidden in great historical paintings to be a great one; that it also ties into one of the most potent religious controversies based around one of the world's major religious doesn't hurt either).

Anyway, that's how it's done.

Oh, and that guitar? It's a Taylor. I play a very old Hart. It's a nice guitar, but not a great guitar or probably, even a good guitar. It's an adequate guitar. (Which is perhaps appropriate, being merely an adequate guitar player on a good day). Yesterday, on the way back from my guitar lesson, I stopped at a local music store just to check it out, bought a capo, and test-drove a couple decent Taylors. (Decent meaning they were in the $700 to $1000 price range). Awesome. I came right home, got out a glass canning jar, put it on my desk, stuck a piece of tape on it and printed: NEW GUITAR FUND and threw $5 in it. It's good to have a goal.

Cheers,

Mark Terry