There's a piano in this story, but you have to bear with me.
Think of the seconds that come to mind.
Second helping. Second chance. Split second. Second chapter. Second time around. Second to none.
And then there's second place. Second rate. Second class. Second best.
I'm the second child, but only by a freak accident of timing. My twin sister beat me by a mere 15 minutes, and bequeathed to me the eternal grade-school memory of being labeled by substitute teachers as "Walker No. 2."
It could ruin a person psychologically. I've thought of that many times since first seeing the great movie Amadeus. It's hard to empathize with the tortured but somewhat smarmy Salieri, who aspired to be Mozart. He, with some poetic justice, was condemned to be just himself.
And my poetic justice is that also. Despite my mother's dream that I become a serious pianist, I am a competent amateur. I am not a professional, nor was I meant to be. I will do to swell a chorus or two, no stage lights, please.
Anne Tyler has said that she writes as though no one will ever read it. I play as though no one will ever hear it. I play for the beauty of the instrument and the sounds it's capable of making. I play for myself.
There's great freedom in the number two. It liberates you from the anxiety of having, always, to be first.
Think of the seconds that come to mind.
Second helping. Second chance. Split second. Second chapter. Second time around. Second to none.
And then there's second place. Second rate. Second class. Second best.
I'm the second child, but only by a freak accident of timing. My twin sister beat me by a mere 15 minutes, and bequeathed to me the eternal grade-school memory of being labeled by substitute teachers as "Walker No. 2."
It could ruin a person psychologically. I've thought of that many times since first seeing the great movie Amadeus. It's hard to empathize with the tortured but somewhat smarmy Salieri, who aspired to be Mozart. He, with some poetic justice, was condemned to be just himself.
And my poetic justice is that also. Despite my mother's dream that I become a serious pianist, I am a competent amateur. I am not a professional, nor was I meant to be. I will do to swell a chorus or two, no stage lights, please.
Anne Tyler has said that she writes as though no one will ever read it. I play as though no one will ever hear it. I play for the beauty of the instrument and the sounds it's capable of making. I play for myself.
There's great freedom in the number two. It liberates you from the anxiety of having, always, to be first.
There's a word for a purveyor of art who creates for some imagined outside audience, instead of for the inner soul. That word is "hack." Unless you do it to please yourself first and foremost, that's all you really are.
ReplyDeleteGreat observation. And there are a lot of them, even among published writers.
ReplyDelete