I’ll admit it: I absolutely love songwriting competitions. I love researching them, I love entering them, I love being named a finalist in them, I love performing in them, and I would imagine that I would even love winning them. That last assumption is theoretical for now, as I’m a three-time finalist and zero-time winner (save for that lyric competition I won in American Songwriter Magazine).
I also must admit that I truly hate songwriting competitions. I hate selecting which song I think will be “best” or has the strongest chance of impressing the judges. It makes me evaluate my artistic output in a way that rarely feels good. I hate the rollercoaster of emotions that comes with the competitions. I hate having my creative artistic output judged and ranked and ordered. I hate being up on stage as they announce the winners, and starting to feel like one of those actors who gets nominated for numerous Oscars over the years, only to come up short time and again, but gets really good at clapping and smiling for others. And also, I hate losing. Not just songwriting competitions. Anything. I’m super competitive. So yeah, songwriting contests totally suck.
So why do I do keep entering them? Several reasons. Starting with my ego. I really want to win. That would be so fun. The prestige, the cash prize, the bragging rights forevermore….bring it on! I also strongly believe in the music I’m writing, and the quality of it. And I do think some of my songs are “good enough” to win competitions. But now, having participated in two wonderful competitions this summer (Wildflower! and Red Lodge Songwriters Festival) I’ve come to relish the best part about being named a finalist - meeting other (usually very talented) songwriters. I’ve made dear friends this way, and have been turned on to some exceptional new music.
I remember seeing flat picking guitar god Steve Kaufman perform one day, and after the impressive show, I was left with this strange mix of being in between two worlds: Part of me was inspired and wanted to go practice the hell out of my guitar. But another part of me felt defeated, knowing I would never be able to do anything close to what I just witnessed, and this part of me never wanted to touch my guitar again. Thankfully, the first part won out, after I got my ego out of the way. Comparison is such a bitch.
Whether it’s songwriting, golfing, gardening, paddle boarding, or engaging in any other of my favorite activities, I do them for one reason only: because they bring me joy. I simply love doing them, and love the way I feel when I do them. And to that end, I hope I never lose the joy and magic that happens through songwriting. And yes, I’ll still probably slip into comparing myself to other artists and feeling momentarily terrible about myself from time to time. But one of the many gifts of age is wisdom, and I’ve gotten quite effective at minimizing the amount of time spent in self-pity.
When I slow down and connect back into myself, there is zero doubt that I have a bazillion more songs inside of me. In fact after thirty years as a songwriter, I still feel like I’ve only scratched the surface. Maybe I’ll win a contest some day, maybe I won’t. It doesn't really matter. But I aim to meet some fantastic new people and have a damn good time every step of the way. And if I can do that, I’ve already won.
