By Robin "Red Hot" Kaye
A few years ago my husband and I went on a double date with my dear friend, Hope Ramsay and her husband to see my first David Wilcox concert. We sat in the front row and I was so amazed by this man’s guitar playing, I found myself paying as much attention to his hands as I did to his words and music. I left the concert thinking that David Wilcox was quite possibly the happiest man on the planet. Never before had I seen someone so thrilled to play songs he’d probably played a million times. After the show, Hope and I spoke to him and I was so touched by his words and the reverent way he talked about his music, his writing, and his life, I found myself in awe of his home-spun existentialism.
Since my first David Wilcox concert, I’ve become a huge fan. Today I was hard at work but feeling uninspired so I turned on my David Wilcox playlist and did my best to find my joy. I remember being so moved by David, during his concert, I felt as if I was meant to be there. I was desperately in need of inspiration, and spending a few hours watching a gifted performer, listening to him talk about how he writes, what he writes, and why he writes it, was exactly what I needed to feed my starving muse.
I left the concert with my head spinning—I counted four blog topics I couldn’t wait to explore. But the thing that really touched me again was the way David Wilcox played with such delight. He walked out on stage carrying a guitar and wearing a long-sleeved navy blue sweater, a pair of faded jeans, and the most joyful expression I’d ever seen—he practically glowed. Before every song he’d tune his guitar and gaze into the rafters with a look of pure exultation, I was envious. David Wilcox had exactly what I’d been searching for. I want to feel that same elation I saw in him when I work. If someone should see me writing at Starbucks, I would hope to look half as happy as David Wilcox looked every time he started playing a song—as if he was thanking God for the gift of his talent, his guitar, and every single person in the audience. I want to learn what it takes for someone who writes and performs for a living to find so much joy in what was probably just another day on the job?
I’m taking a lesson from David Wilcox and finding my joy. I love writing. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do for a living. I wonder if lately I’ve gotten so bogged down in the business end of writing, that I’ve missed the magic that happens when I’m creating. I am going to step back and rediscover why I feel the need to create characters, the world they live in, and the emotions that drive them. I want to experience the joy that comes from losing myself in a story. I want to figure out how to gather and store the drops of magic so I can swim in it every now and then. I want to look up at my ceiling fan and instead of seeing the dust gathering on the blades, be blinded by the light of inspiration. I want to be the woman at Starbucks writing on her laptop computer who makes everyone wonder what she’s doing wearing such a radiant smile. I want to walk into my office every morning eager to create a world of happily ever afters. I will do that. I’m inspired.
So please tell me, how do you find your joy?
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
By Robin "Red Hot" Kaye
Posted by Robin Kaye at 3:06 AM