My Mother is a Musician

My mother is a musician. I grew up in a house full of music. From a very early age I was made to play an instrument. I hated it. It wasn't that I hated music, it was that I hated being forced to play something that I didn't want or care about. For years I said that music had no part in my life. I said that I would never take pleasure in making music. I truly did not think that there was a single instrument in the world that I would enjoy preforming on.

Well, as young children often are, I was wrong. I had not experienced enough life to know that there are more ways to make music then by playing an instrument.

Every day when I sit down to work my fingers begin to create a rhythm of their own. They fly away across the key board, typing and clicking, making a music that isn't just heard but seen as well.

This is the kind of music I am in love with. The constant click and beating of the keyboard mixed with the different shapes and letters that appear on the screen makes me understand for the first time the love that my mother had for music. It makes me appreciate that music is everywhere. It is in the playing of instruments, the click of a writer’s keyboard, the different colored paints of an artist's painting. It is everywhere. You simply have to have the ears to hear it or the eyes to see it.

 

Reviews

[Random Peter]

Ok, a very nice story, I may say. Now, what would you like from a reader to think of? Writing a story is not just writing it or telling some events. You need to create a question or answer one.
The story on its basic is good, you are very clear of what you are talking about. In my opinion, you need to expand it a tiny little bit at the end and tell us what music is for humanity (just an advice)
In total, awesome
98/100
~Peter

[JennaP]

Thank you very much!!! I will make the changes that you suggest. They most certainly will add to it. :-)

[Amaya Sullivan]

Cute story. I agree with Random Peter. As a reader, we want a picture to be painted. Elaborate into the struggle of your mother making you learn how to play the instrument.

What is the instrument you had to play? Show us how you felt during those mundane practices having to to play the same piece over and over again.

I remember practicing my clarinet over and over again after school. Going home, doing homework, completing chores, then I had to practice the same songs over and over again. It was stressful breaking reeds all the time, cleaning the instrument, having to mess with the cork grease. I can still remember its musky smell! It was stressful lugging the case back in forth to school. I was glad I didn't go with the saxophone.

Expound on how much you hated the piece. We would love to see that struggle.

Keep Writing!

Amaya Sullivan

[JennaP]

Thank you very much! I'll expand it as soon as I can. :-)

[Amaya Sullivan]

Great to hear! After re-reading my review, the clarinet wasn't meant as a re-write of your story. It was an actual account of my childhood. Just to clarify. ^_^

I would love to read the new version. ^_^

[JennaP]

Thanks!!! I'll hopefully have some time tonight to rewrite. :-)