Hi everybody. I'm 46, and I work as a technical translator and a fiction writer, and I also hold a M. of Sc. degreee in Applied Physics. When I was 11 I tried to get piano lessons at the municipal music school. The queue was long, but one day the phone rang and I was so happy! I had played the recorder for years but piano was my dream instrument and I envied my friends, who already had pianos and took lessons. I used to sit next them and listen while they were practicing.
So I ran off to my first lesson, without even owning a piano
but my parents promised to buy me one of course. The first semester I was very enthusiastic and proud and I made quick progress, quicker than my friends. So, I was talented, yeeha.
Then ... the usual story. Interest faded, progress diminished. I practiced less and less and my teacher was disappointed. But you see, I don't know how to quit. Literally, I don't know how. So I kept on taking lessons as long as I was allowed to be in municipal music school, and at my last lesson, at the age of 19, I wept bitterly. After all, I had loved to play the piano. I just regretted that I had not practiced more ... Still, I had also decided that a career as a professional pianist was not for me. I realized that I would never have the patience to practice that much, or the nerves to perform anyway, and I also had other plans for my life.
7 years later I bought myself a digital piano, a Yamaha Clavinova. It was one of the first models on the market, and I loved it. I could play with headphones on which meant that I "could practice as much as I wanted" ... well ... sometimes I did, sometimes I didn't. What has annoyed me during the years after that, is that I not just didn't make any progress; in fact I got worse and worse. The most advanced piece I ever played in music school was Clair de Lune. I never reached beyond that level. In fact, I never learned to play Clair de Lune properly either. And so the years went by, with me learning absolutely nothing new.
Some years ago my old interest in music woke up again. First I went to some rock concerts and enjoyed it a lot. Then, due to some odd circumstances, I started going to classical concerts again, and I realized that I loved it. More than ever, actually. It was like I, at the age of +40, had developed musically a lot since the teen years - even though I was in the audience now, not playing myself. (Yes, I tried sometimes, but it sounded so terribly crappy.) I got to know a very talented concert pianist (Tengstrand) and I became "a fan" and a faithful listener, but I simply cannot be a fan of a living musician, nor anyone. I was a fan of ... the music itself. Suddenly the music started to touch me in a way it had never done before. I could sit in the audience and cry because the music triggered such strong emotions in me, like love, pain, sorrow.
Finally I started to wonder what those musicians had, that I apparently had not. Obviously I could ENJOY the music and hear the subleties as good as anyone else. Actually I had rather good knowledge of music, at least far better than my friends who all were into popular music. I asked myself whether I should remain a spectator, sometimes smiling like an old lady, saying things like "once, in my youth, I also played the piano ..." or do something else.
Late 2011 I took the brave decision to be serious once more, just give it a last fair try. So I started practicing again, with the first modest ambition to sit at the piano 20 minutes a day. It went rather well, actually. Or, at first it was like a cruel parody. My hands were stiff, it sounded awful, sometimes I had to mute the sound because I could not stand the noise ... And so the neverending voices from inside:
"This will NEVER work, why not listen to a CD with a GOOD pianist instead of torturing yourself?"
"You lack something, girl. Just face it."
"There is an upper limit for you. No matter if you practice for 100 years, you will never learn this and that."
"You suck. You suck. See, another error, you always make errors, and you always will."
"And here we lost concentration again, just like you used to do. Thinking of something else while you're playing - what's the point?"
But I made progress anyway. I started to regain my old "skills". Then we got serious family matters (illness) and Real Life simply forced me to abandon piano playing for a while. During summer 2012 I started playing again, and I was happy to realize that I had not "lost it all" again.
Then the passion finally hit me. After all these years, I fell in love with PLAYING. I am still a crappy piano player but I don't care, I just love sitting there, playing and practicing. Some months ago I bought myself a new digital piano, this time a Yamaha Baby Grand. (Acoustic? Please, not in this little house. No way, unfortunately.) I adore it, and my children complain a lot in these days: now you're playing the piano again, Mummy. You are ALWAYS playing the piano!
Yeah, cuties. I always do, because that is what I love to do. Finally I'm learning new pieces, finally I'm developing. I also found this site, that was very helpful to me. From here I have got some valuable advice, free sheet music and the link to "Fundamentals of Piano Practice" which gave me some insights in what I have done wrong during all these years. Well, I am not a good piano player, but I certainly have made all the mistakes there are to make, and such an experience is not a bad thing either. You wanna know what NOT to do? Just ask me ...
Right now I work with music by Beethoven, Chopin, Debussy and Bach, plus some popular music songs. My biggest dream is to play the Appassionata Sonata, the greatest sonata I know. Well ... at least I don't think it is impossible anymore. Give me a few years, and I will make it ...
OK, so you got a lot of rambling here, but what else to expect from a novel writer ...
Topic: Introduction