Before I was even born, my mother was playing music directed towards her womb so I could hear. My mother used to sing at church, and for hours a day she was in our basement, playing and singing in front of a beat-up upright piano. The keys were jagged, and they would cut you if you weren’t careful. She taught my brother and me how to play.
So when it came time for me to choose my instrument, I took up the drums. I had a couple of bands as a kid, and I even went to college for music at Stetson University. They had a great program, but they were mostly a classic program with a very strict and small jazz program. Well, I wasn’t into that at the time — now I love classical — and during college I realized, suddenly, I didn’t want to make a living out of music. I didn’t want it to be the only thing in my life. One day, I will tell you the story of a great professor, Dr. Michael Raymond, who changed my life and made me want to be a writer.
I hated the music school at Stetson. I liked the people, but I hated the program. And it was a top-notch program — just not for me. I wanted to play the drum set, and I wanted to play the set LOUD. I used to go into the drum room, and one of the teachers used to complain that he couldn’t concentrate. So I quite to become a writing major, which is eventually my chosen path.
But even though music isn’t what I wanted to center my life around, it still plays an integral part of my day and my writing. Let me explain. Continue reading “Music in My Life and Writing”