I have nothing new to bring to the table.
You’ve got bands, musicians, writers, influencers, speakers. They’re saying what needs to be said. In this age where no one wants a “normal” job, everyone wants to do what they actually like, what they really do enjoy, and get paid for that. They want to be their own boss, they want to get paid for sharing their own opinions in a way that pleases them.
And it works for some. People (like me) listen and follow these people. Giving money so they can create videos on YouTube, buying albums, reading books, hitting the follow button and upping these people’s numbers. Why? Because they’re real and living a life you wish you were to be totally honest. And there’s something so refreshing about people being human and so far from flawless when you’re able to hear about someone so “perfect” making mistakes. It’s relatable and it helps you feel like you’re validated, not horrible for not being perfect.
But if that’s so, if there are people already writing their feelings for others to relate to, if others are already sharing their lives and making a living by it, then where’s the need for more?
What could I possibly bring to the table that hasn’t already been said? Could I even say anything as well as the others before me? What makes me special? Different? What makes me stand out?
I have such a passion for smaller artists. The ones who work hard and pour their lives and time and energy and heart and darkest thoughts into their work. Their passions and emotions are raw and evident in their work, in their art. They sing the songs with more passion than anyone in the audience. They dance more than anyone in the audience.
And because they do all of that, those small artists can become one of the biggest bands ever known. A name everyone knows the name of.
Whether it’s music, books, art, design, anything. I am immediately 100% more likely to buy or look into it if I know it’s a smaller artist starting out. Because if you were them, and this was your love, your ultimate joy, wouldn’t you want others to support you? To listen?
Maybe part of the reason I throw myself at artists, into fictional worlds, maybe the reason I dress in all black and paint my face at concerts, the reason I let it consume me pretty much, is because I know I’ll never be able to do it myself. To create it myself I mean.
I’ll always be the one watching. The one supporting. And there is nothing wrong with that, absolutely nothing. Without the supporters there wouldn’t be anyone to support. They wouldn’t be publishing a second book, they wouldn’t have the opportunity to play a show in your hometown, they wouldn’t have been able to make a website for a really big company, they wouldn’t have been able to open their own shop. Not without the people donating, the people giving time into their creativity.
I love supporting, I truly do. There’s a pride that comes with it, especially when you truly love the band or the writer. When you’re completely immersed in their world that they’ve created, you’re IN it. Because you can love the idea of a thing, but unless you find that you relate to it, you’ll never have a passion or love for it like the person next to you who does relate.
I go to concerts when I am in over my head in their message, in their lyrics, in their sound, in everything they do. I find that I am easy to impress, but harder to keep around. I consider myself a very loyal person, but because I’m just so darn emotional I have to ration who I give that loyalty to. If I throw it at every song I like, it won’t be the same when the song that I LOVE, the song that makes me cry on sad days, comes on.
I so wish I could create that way. I’m not sure how they do it and that’s part of the magic for me. I look at musicians like wizards sometimes. I stand there, eyes wide, goosebumps on my arms. Wondering how they feel what I’m feeling, and how they put it into something I can HEAR.
The fact that someone can sit down, and write what they’re feeling in words.
Then they can take those words, and whisper them, scream them, draw the words out, or say them quickly, showing you just how urgent their thoughts are. They don’t just say or read them, they put their heart into the words.
Then they take those words, and find sounds that compliment them. Or sounds that are anything but complimentary, telling you a different story entirely. They layer sound over sound until a chaotic beat explodes over and over to show the urgency and scattered feeling of the story they tell.
Or they use soft piano keys, maybe a deep bass line that quakes your bones.
And finally, they take it to a stage. They stand and play those sounds, they sing the words they wrote, they scream along with every person who stands in front of them, screaming the words back at them. They move their bodies in time to the beats, encouraging everyone else to not just hear, to not just sing, but to move. To let everything out, to scream, to move the emotion right out of you.
That’s powerful. That’s unlike anything else you’ll ever experience.
Writers can create fictional worlds, ink on paper bringing new languages, names, and races to life. They make the stories so believable, adding history that goes back thousands of years, until you find yourself believing it enough to have very serious discussions over lunch about these characters and the choices they’ve made, the choices you hope they don’t make.
They know how to twist your thoughts into not seeing that the man you’re reading about is actually the villain. They know how to dangle plots over cliff edges, leaving you with your heart in your mouth hoping that this person who only exists on this page of paper, will live to fight another day.
You’ll find yourself crying when something awful happens, when a loved one is saved, or when true love wins.
Those stories are ones we carry with us. We tell them to others, we share them with others, and tell them that when they read that story, they’re reading a part of our own self. We grow THAT attached to these false stories that we adopt them to who we are.
How can someone do that. How can anyone else even attempt to add or compete, when the people that have done it, have already DONE it. How can they be topped? How can anything even come close?
What could I possibly add? I have no talent for songs, for music. I can be the one moving, I can be the one screaming, but I can’t create that magic. Only feel and long for it whenever I am without it.
I can’t create worlds that home people we grow to love and hate.
I only have me. My thoughts. My hates and my loves. And why would anyone want or desire ever to know any of that? Why would anyone desire to know me?
But I am so in love with the idea of that kind of freedom. To connect people to emotions they’ve felt but could never quite pinpoint.
That’s the magic I wish I had.