Some people have asked me if my stories ever evolve into something different than I was expecting. Or if my stories ever change as I’m writing them. Sometimes they do slightly, other times quite a bit.
Did you want to see what the changes for one story look like?
I give you To Give Hope
I come from a musical loving family. At least on my mom’s side. My grandma played the piano when she was young and she sang in different choirs even when she was 90 years old. My grandpa doesn’t play any instruments or sing, but he loves music. When his hearing was better he regularly attended concerts at churches and music halls. He would make the three hour drive down to our home to attend concerts and music performances first with my brother, and then later with me. We attended so many concerts from world renown performers: strings, piano, brass, orchestra, trios, quartets, vocal, etc.
I, myself, play the piano and violin and I sing, so I greatly enjoyed attending the concerts with my grandpa.
There was one evening in particular. We were sitting in the front or next to the front row (as we did most concerts) and I was watching this string quartet play. I don’t know which group was playing, but most, if not all, of the players were older gentlemen with gray hair. I remember sitting there listening to the music swirl around me and wondering if the players had grandchildren who got to hear “Grandpa” play.
Soon my brain was forming a story of the little girl who grew up listening to her grandfather and his friends play. To her they were just “Grandpa’s quartet”.
A week or so later I started writing. But the story didn’t start the way I thought. You see, like Clara, I had been dealing with some of the same struggles in my writing. But once I started this story, it all came quickly.
I could easily picture “Grandpa’s quartet” and a family of musicians. I named Clara after Clara Schumann. And finding the perfect name for “Grandpa’s Quartet” was so much fun as I searched for different words in different languages to find the right sounding name.
I had heard the notes of the birds, the wind in the trees, the storms and passion all played on the strings and keys of the instruments in the concerts I had attended. I’d heard the laughter bubbling up, the sobs of sorrow, the lullabies, waltzes, marches, and tender love. This was a story of hope. Of hope in the middle of despair and confusion. The Hope that never fails.
And there you have it. The story behind this little short story.
Have you attended any concerts? Do you play any musical instruments? What is an instrument that you love to listen to?
I love the piano (I used to play when I was a kid), and I grew up singing in a homeschool choir. Those were fun years 🙂
Aw, yes, the memories of being part of a musical group when you were younger are so great!