Day one-Lost and Found in Nashville
First day in Nashville, I wake up late, totally disoriented and foggy. I feel jetlagged, but that seems like an exaggeration since the time difference between Phoenix and Nashville is a mere two hours. My first meeting isn’t until 3:30pm, so I’ve got some time to get my bearings.
I go for the guitar. It’s a sunny, windy morning and outside my window the trees are swaying. I open the door and let some of that warm, moist air come in through the screen door. It feels good to sing and play and be immersed in this for awhile before my head is engaged and the business of the day begins.
One priority today is find out where that local café is—the one with real coffee, preferably some internet access and a patio. I end up at the Whole Foods, which seems like a groovy little market/deli with a real community feel to it and great coffee. For the coffee snob in me, this is essential.
My meeting is with Kari Estrin, a manager and music career consultant from Nashville that I met at the Folk Alliance conference. She’s got a really inventive approach to artist and career development, so we’re talking about working together. She’s leaving for Scotland in two days, so I’m grateful she found time to fit me in. I visit her quaint home in a beautiful neighborhood in the east part of Nashville. As I drive there, I’m starting to get a feel for the city. There are white cherry blossoms on the trees and flowers in bloom, big old trees everywhere. At home in her living room, Kari absolutely lights up when she talks about her work, and the conversation is an effortless exchange of ideas.
When I return to my car, I get a text message re-scheduling my songwriting session tonight. I go home and start writing anyway—my body is just so full of music today, probably because I’ve been priming it for some creative action. After jamming out a few ideas, I reach for my notebook. Now understand that this is THE notebook, containing notes, ideas, lyrics, dreams, set lists, a few sentimental/inspirational letters I’ve received, stuffed between the pages, ideas, diagrams, and lists. I’m surprisingly calm, given the personal, intimate, irreplaceable and potentially embarrassing nature of the contents. I actually trace my steps back to the café today, but to no avail. No notebook. Nothing in the lost and found. Damn.
Why would I lose that? What’s the lesson here?
I go for the guitar. It’s a sunny, windy morning and outside my window the trees are swaying. I open the door and let some of that warm, moist air come in through the screen door. It feels good to sing and play and be immersed in this for awhile before my head is engaged and the business of the day begins.
One priority today is find out where that local café is—the one with real coffee, preferably some internet access and a patio. I end up at the Whole Foods, which seems like a groovy little market/deli with a real community feel to it and great coffee. For the coffee snob in me, this is essential.
My meeting is with Kari Estrin, a manager and music career consultant from Nashville that I met at the Folk Alliance conference. She’s got a really inventive approach to artist and career development, so we’re talking about working together. She’s leaving for Scotland in two days, so I’m grateful she found time to fit me in. I visit her quaint home in a beautiful neighborhood in the east part of Nashville. As I drive there, I’m starting to get a feel for the city. There are white cherry blossoms on the trees and flowers in bloom, big old trees everywhere. At home in her living room, Kari absolutely lights up when she talks about her work, and the conversation is an effortless exchange of ideas.
When I return to my car, I get a text message re-scheduling my songwriting session tonight. I go home and start writing anyway—my body is just so full of music today, probably because I’ve been priming it for some creative action. After jamming out a few ideas, I reach for my notebook. Now understand that this is THE notebook, containing notes, ideas, lyrics, dreams, set lists, a few sentimental/inspirational letters I’ve received, stuffed between the pages, ideas, diagrams, and lists. I’m surprisingly calm, given the personal, intimate, irreplaceable and potentially embarrassing nature of the contents. I actually trace my steps back to the café today, but to no avail. No notebook. Nothing in the lost and found. Damn.
Why would I lose that? What’s the lesson here?
posted by Carrie Catherine at
9:37 PM
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