Writing Lessons from Piano and Theology

My parents paid for my piano lessons for a decade of my young life. I loved the delight of developing my skills to make music with my fingers enough to endure all the hours of tedious repetition and even my inevitable stage fright from biannual recitals and testing.

At some point in my late teens, I acquired a copy of the first set of Beethoven’s piano sonatas. He was, and is, my favorite composer and I had long delighted in hearing others perform the works of this master of harmonics and passion. Now, I got to browse through his works for myself, trying out music I had never heard in my life.

It struck me that there was nothing between me, a modern young American, and the mind of Beethoven himself except for the typesetter and printer. It was nearly a spiritual experience to realize his thoughts were being brought to life for my ears through my eyes and fingers.

Reading the Bible is not that dissimilar. Although we have the added intermediary step of needing a translation from the original language into our modern tongue, the process is much like that of transferring a musical score. There are remarkably few links in the chain from the original Author’s thoughts and my comprehension.

This is the power of books.

Pushing through the Slog

I once read a book designed for theology students encouraging them in their spiritual life. The author wisely pointed out that the very process of studying the nuances of the Bible has a tendency to kill its spirit, leaving only the letter. As soon as I read it I realized how much this observation reminded me of what it was like to study a piece of music.

Sightreading is messy, slow, and uneven, but it’s music. There is so much delight in hearing new melodies, rhythms, and harmonies! But when I started practicing, working out the kinks and matching my style to the original version, it got dry. Only after weeks or months of effort did I gain enough skill to discover the music had come alive again—this time as it was meant to be performed.

Writing often feels like this.

The first idea is so exciting it can be hard to sleep until the rough thoughts are saved somewhere. But then the hard work of fleshing the ideas out sets in. Many of us find this process so laborious we end up letting our manuscripts get dusty in a file folder somewhere only we know or, worse, self-publish a half-baked book well before it’s ready.

But just like with music or theology, it is only when we are willing to keep going through the “messy middle” of our writing project that we end up with a result that makes the world a better place.

A Good Mentor

The only reason I ever pushed through the discomfort and drudgery of learning a piece was because I had caring parents and an amazing piano teacher. Anyone, even a pastor, who wants to have a deep and living relationship with their Savior God stays connected to a local church and under preaching that calls them higher.

A writer nearly always needs this same kind of support.

If you need help getting your own writing project out of the weeds and reaching its full bloom, an editor can help. With developmental editors like me, it’s never too early to bring one in. We love the raw ideas and know what it takes to get it from “Eureka!” to “Five-stars!”

You don't have to be Beethoven or a theologian to have a story or idea the world needs to hear. Each of us brings something unique to the world that was only given to us. Whether the rest of us ever find out what your particular gift is or not depends on whether you are willing to push through to find the music again for us.