Last week Monday, I talked with two professors at Dordt. One, Dr. Ben Kornelis, I never had for a class. I played under his conducting as a member of Chamber Orchestra. He directs the choirs, and on the few occasions we joined them, I interacted with him directly. And when I had my jury audition to perform my senior recital, he was one of the three “judges” who formally accepted me into the music performance minor program.
This morning I interviewed him about upcoming concert honoring Dale Grotenhuis, retired music professor and extensive composer and arranger of choir music. This afternoon, I stopped by two of the choir rehearsals (Choral and Kantorei) to take pictures for the story. Dr. Kornelis introduced me, calling me a “good musician.”
I squirmed when he said that because, frankly, I don’t consider myself a good musician. Having only been playing since I was 13, I have always felt handicapped by inexperience, not to mention a lack of discipline in my practicing. But, I did receive a scholarship to play violin at Dordt. I did take two semesters of college music theory, two semesters of music history and seven semesters of music lessons. I did perform nearly an hour of music for a senior recital in front of about 50 or so guests, who turned out despite a wicked blizzard that night. I did work my way up in the ranks of the first violins to assistant concertmaster (for one semester, anyway). I now hold the respectable position of fourth stand of the first violin section in an orchestra that includes some of this region’s quite talented musicians.
And yet I still feel like I’m scamming people. “I’m not really that good,” I want to tell anyone who compliments my playing. My rhythm is terrible. I rarely count out measures. My intonation is inconstant at best. Ask my husband, who has to suffer through my random practice sessions stationed in front of our intensely out-of-tune, half-functional piano (which I don’t play, thankfully. But at 100 years old, it’s a sweet music stand).
Now that I no longer have structured rehearsals twice a week, along with weekly private lessons, my playing has degraded to a rather irritating level that is neither good nor bad, but a depressing sort of mediocre.
Last week Monday night, I learned I will be assistant concertmaster for the Sioux County Oratorio Society’s accompanying chamber orchestra. When I was first handed the music, I was given a second violin part, which was utterly acceptable to me. As I was paging through the music, I looked up and saw a separate music package with my name on it in the hand of the person distributing the packets. I asked if the music I held was the right set, and she hurriedly switched it, apologizing for the mistake. Turns out I’m not only a first violin, but first stand. Gulp.
Then at noon, in between these two interactions with Dr. Kornelis, I ate lunch with one of my most influential English professors, Dr. Mary Dengler. My husband, also an English major, had been invited to present his own job history— post graduation—to a group of English students. A combination of the poor traveling weather and flaky fellow invitees resulted in my husband being the only one of three invited panelists who attended. And—being a Monday during midterms—only one English student attended. After the panel, my husband, Dr. Dengler, and this student went out to lunch, and I was invited to join.
It was a nice time, catching up with Dr. Dengler, and sharing my own post-graduation job experiences (Well, the only one. I still hold my first job). She told me two of my papers, one on Leslie Marmon Silko’s novel, “Ceremony” and another looking at Milton’s “Paradise Lost” and Dante’s “Inferno” were truly excellent. (Of course, the later paper received a very blah grade because I totally botched my footnote formatting. Duh.).
For whatever reason, I felt I could accept this compliment. I’ve been trying to figure out why. Is it because I am a professional writer now? With writing there is no hiding behind a group, no blending in with the section. My mistakes are fully exposed, but then, so too are my successes.
Earlier this month I was given the Jay P. Wagner Prize for Young Journalists by the Iowa Newspaper Association. It’s the first year for this award, which is given in recognition of community news efforts.
At the INA awards ceremony, they read this big long intro about my contributions to the Sioux Center community and the newspaper, how I’ve handled different topics and challenges. It was strange. Surreal. And again, I felt inadequate. I still don’t know why I received the award. Unlike the three other young journalism awards they handed out to Iowa writers, there were no feedback comments on my writing from whoever it was that judged the entries.
I think, more than affirmation, I crave the critique of those better than me. Sure, it’s nice to have people who don’t really understand what I do (whether it is writing or playing violin) tell me they like my work. But, it’s from the “masters” that I want to hear from. Hearing Dr. Dengler tell me my writing was good, that I could accept, because she does know good writing.
What drives me to continue writing and continuing to try to become a better writer? What motivates (or doesn’t motivate) me to play the violin and become a better violinist?
From the times I’ve had to take time off from NISO, I can attest that without a motivation to practice violin, I rarely do. So, if I didn’t write professionally, if I didn’t have the requirement to produce so many stories, articles and columns, would I write at all? Would I be able to write anything like I am right now, if I hadn’t been working for the Sioux Center News for the past three years?
Thus, my inspiration for restarting a blog. Mainly to ensure that, outside my work, I keep writing. From the length of this entry, I at least can do that.
Writing blog entries that are actually worth reading, that could take a while.
