Becoming a Composer.  Part I

The first piece I ever composed required considerable work.  I had to find a blank sheet of paper, get a ruler, and make parallel lines in sets of 5 to create properly staffed manuscript paper.  I used a pencil.  I also used a pencil to write down my notes.  So everytime I erased a note I erased some of the ledger lines.  The notes were very large and looked like little globes.  Still, a piece of music did eventually appear, and I called it Moon Shadows (I was only 7 and had never heard of Cat Stevens and his hit song, "Moon Shadow").  I was to debut it at a group session of summer school music students.  I had it memorized so didn't bother to bring it with me.  When it was my turn I simply went to the piano, sat down, and stared at the keyboard.  My face felt very hot, and I was embarassed.  I turned and looked at my piano teacher and her colleague, and then I looked away.  Finally, my teacher asked, "Have you written something?"  "Yes," I replied, and continued to stare straight ahead at the piano.  "Would you like to play it?" she asked.  Finally, I decided I would. 

     I put my right foot on the pedal, sat up properly, and played Moon Shadows.  It was in 3/4 time, and followed a pretty basic melody line with simple left-hand chords. I should add here that I had been studying for only a year, and so my knowledge of music structure was primitive.  For example, it was written in C major, not because I liked the sound of that key but because I had unwittingly come to the realization that it didn't require using black keys (except for one F-sharp I had included, which looked more like a tic-tac-toe grid.)           When I was finished I folded my hands into my lap.  The other students clapped.  "Why didn't you want to play it, Suzanne?  It was very good."  I smiled shyly, said "Thank you," and sat down. 

     Not only does this little story relate a fond memory of mine, but it also demonstrates how we evolve over time.  From this first music-writing experience, I went on to continually craft and explore new music styles, idioms, and generally more advanced theoretical concepts.  These stories will come later.  For now, this is my first composition.  Smudgy ledger lines.  Squiggly treble clef.  Perfectly neat time signature. Big round, very black-filled notes, and a mountain range with a moon rising above it that framed the title. 

     My next piano composition would come seven years later.  In the meantime I became a serious classical pianist, and my days were filled with attending school, practicing piano, music competitions, and music theory and history.  Piano became my life.  My success story.  My sense of being.  When a profound hearing loss took away my ability to perform: when the music I heard was only internal, music composition would become a new sense of being. 

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