Writing music used to be a passion of mine. Playing guitar and singing my own lyrics came naturally. It was a creative outlet.
Sometimes writing came easily. Words would flow on the page. My fingers, seemingly with a mind of their own, playing just the right chords and notes. Other times it was a struggle. I would sit down with a lyric or chord progression in my mind, but there was no magic happening.
In college I could sit for hours messing around on the guitar with my roommate. We never wrote anything of significance, but it was fun and almost meditative at times. Often without much thought, just exploring musically.
I couldn’t tell you how many songs I wrote. Most of them didn’t make it past the first play. There were probably only half a dozen that were good enough to play more than once or record with my awful onboard laptop mic.
My favorite was one that I wrote for my wife and played at our wedding. That was one of those that just came to me effortlessly. It’s been so long I’d probably have to relearn it.
I rarely pick up the guitar now. Not that I wouldn’t love to. It’s just not a top priority to me right now with work, family, and so many other responsibilities of adult life. So it sits in the corner, untouched.
One of these days I’ll have to try it out again.