Working on a wind quintet has been proving to be tremendously difficult over the past few months. Writing for smaller ensembles is tricky — everything is exposed, and you have nothing to hide behind (read: no string section.) Any part that's even slightly off becomes painfully obvious, even more so during listening to a computer playback. But that's not the main problem.
The problem was in my head, in my thinking, in my approach to writing music over the last little while. You see, writing music used to be a fun thing, invigorating, and energizing when you are writing something you love. Over the last few months, writing music, especially this quintet, had become a chore that I had to force myself to do. It's not an enjoyable thing when you sit down and nothing is coming, and you have to force the music out of you. Many a day I found myself sitting down with the only goal of filling the page with notes, even if that meant that the quality suffered a little. Sure, I can fill a page with notes, but that doesn't mean that the music is any good. It doesn't mean that my heart is in it. In fact, much of the music that I wrote in this way became rather neutral to me — I neither really liked it, or disliked it. And this is an alarming thing for a composer. Nothing is more discouraging than not being able to produce something you love. So while in turn, pages were being filled with notes, the fire of creativity was slowly beginning to fade.
Perhaps this is why this has been my longest-duration piece to complete. At any rate, the current method of working wasn't working, and it was time for a change. Here's a little mantra I came up with, something that I have to tell myself every time I sit down to create:
"I would rather write one bar of good music than 50 bars of half-good music. I am not going for quantity — I'm going for quality. Today, if all I write is one bar of good music, I will have achieved my goal."And that's what happened: one day last week, I sat down, took my time, and wrote one bar of good music. And then another. And another. And I kept going as long as I was able. Granted, I did not fill the page, but the music that was on the page was something I could stand behind, and most importantly, something that I enjoyed. Let me tell you a little secret this helped me realize: it is easier to keep going — to keep writing — if you are building off a solid idea rather than a shaky framework that you're not really that sure about. I think that any artist's best work comes when they are working on something that's close to their heart, and carries tremendous meaning for them. I know I have benefited from reducing the desire to fill space, and rather focussing on creating something I love.
