January 10, 2024

Trying too hard didn’t help

Posted in music and writing tagged , , at 7:45 am by Rebecca Hein

In the previous post, I told how I went to a cello lesson so frustrated with the sound I was producing that I flung the bow onto the string, expecting the usual substandard sound. I was fed up with battling the disparity between the beautiful tone I heard in my head and what actually came out of the cello.

But at that lesson, my teacher leapt to his feet, smacked his forehead, and said, “That’s the best sound I’ve ever heard you make, and you weren’t even trying!” Thus began my journey of exploration toward serendipity in cello playing.

I spent hours tossing the bow onto the string, and trying other things aimed at traveling toward serendipity. Eventually my sound production improved, and I never forgot how important it was to retain an accidental approach to at least some component of my practicing.

Next: How did this carry over to writing?

December 27, 2023

What I’ve learned about trying too hard

Posted in music and writing, Tone at 2:34 pm by Rebecca Hein

I’ve applied to my writing an important discovery from one of my most intensive periods of cello practicing. From about age 16, I practiced 2-8 hours per day, depending on my schedule.

That ultra-focused stretch of practicing occurred when I was 25, studying for my master’s in cello performance at the Northwestern University School of Music. I’d been working on tone production—and was becoming so frustrated that I could hardly think.

I could tell I was stalled and, one day I was so disgusted with my lack of progress that when I arrived at the week’s cello lesson, I yanked the cello out of the case, flung my bow onto the strings and pulled.

The cello emitted a huge, bell-like note, but I was too agitated to notice.

“Did you hear that?” I asked my teacher. “How could it get any worse?”

Next: But was it worse?

January 18, 2023

Listening to your writing

Posted in music and writing, Revising, self-evaluation tagged , , at 3:15 pm by Rebecca Hein

You can learn to evaluate your own writing. This is one of the most important skills I learned from my best mentor, the late Ron Kenner. He was an excellent freelance editor.

I was struggling with revisions, not seeing what should be changed or, if I did see it, not knowing how to rewrite it. Ron, knowing I was a cellist, said, “When you’re playing the cello, you can tell when you’ve played a wrong note.”

I agreed.

“When you read through something you’ve written, you’ll also notice where it feels and sounds wrong.”

Sure enough, those passages jumped out at me as not being quite right. And, as I listened to what I was writing while revising, I could also tell if something was right or not.

You don’t need to be a musician to be able to detect weak spots in your writing. All people have a sense of what rings true and what doesn’t. You just have to believe in this ability and search for it within yourself. This process may take some time, but it’s important to persevere.

Eventually you’ll notice that your writer’s “ear” is sharper, and that evaluating and revising are easier.

November 2, 2022

What makes a masterwork, and how I discovered this

Posted in Harmony, music and writing tagged , , at 8:57 am by Rebecca Hein

Part Three: Beethoven’s Violin Concerto

I majored in cello performance, inspired by so many classical composers. I’d been playing music and listening to it for more than three decades when I experienced a moment of revelation, listening to the Beethoven Violin Concerto.

In Martin Buber’s I and Thou, I’d recently read, “This is the eternal source of art: a man is faced by a form which desires to be made through him into a work. This form is no offspring of his soul, but is an appearance which steps up to it and demands of it the effective power.”

Intuitively, I felt that this was correct. Therefore, if this “appearance” has a form and shape of its own—somewhere out there in the ether—the composer, painter, or novelist has to sense that form and shape. Then, the closer the match between this invisible form and the creative artist’s rendering of it, the more compelling the final product is.

To me, this solved the question of why the Beethoven Violin Concerto is deep and perfect. Beethoven achieved a nearly exact match between what that piece is supposed to be and the piece he composed.

October 5, 2022

Why waiting for productivity works

Posted in music and writing, Right Brain, Uncategorized tagged at 1:35 pm by Rebecca Hein

Part Two: Experiments in cello teaching

When I encouraged my cello students to let their minds wander while they were playing, they began to experience playing in new and different ways. Alice, who had long struggled with keeping a steady beat, was playing for me at a lesson, and I noticed that her usual rhythmic irregularities were absent. When I asked her about this, she reported—with wonder and excitement—that the beat had spontaneously begun inside her; a huge, pulsating orb.

Musicians think of this as an advanced skill, and perhaps it is. But it’s surely more accessible to students than we think, because look at what Alice achieved.

Next: The right brain and writing

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