Anything But Waiting Tables, Please
Six months after writing my first song I moved to Nashville. Some might say it was too soon. Actually some did say:
“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Mark?”
“I don’t think you’re ready for this, Mark.”
“Go for it, Mark!”
People are always going to have an opinion about what you should or shouldn’t do. You need to learn whose voices to listen to.
Personally, I couldn’t imagine ever being completely “ready” for a move across the country like that. I also was naïve enough to have no clue how qualified one must actually be in order to go after their dreams.
Looking back, I would say that I was ignorant about two things: How the music industry works, and how much more experienced I would have to become in order to be able to entertain an audience for an entire concert. But I was certain I wanted an adventure.
So off I went, secretly hoping the mayor of Nashville would be waiting for me, ready to roll out the red carpet when I crossed into city limits.
(That didn’t happen.)
Over the years, I had to balance my desire to live out all my creative dreams, and still be able to pay the mortgage and feed myself…and the dog I had.
“I just want to get to the place where my needs are met by doing music. Then I’ll be happy.” I’ve heard so many people say this, perhaps as a way of telling the universe they don’t really care about being rich or famous, they just don’t want to struggle, or deliver pizzas. (I did that!)
Most creative people are trying to avoid working at all costs. The funny thing is, though, that the truly successful creative people have to work harder than you could ever imagine. It’s just that most of the time you don’t see the hard work that goes into their being wonderful on stage for an hour and a half.
I’ve had to ask myself over and over what would I be willing to do to allow myself to keep moving in the direction of my dreams? What kind of places would I be willing to swim in, just to keep my head afloat?
Dress up like a hundred dollar bill and pass out t-shirts for a local bank at a college football game? Sure!
Host a game show for a Christmas banquet of a local book publisher? Not bad.
Pretend to murder your wife so you could continue the affair you’re having with a younger woman? For a TV pilot? Umm…talk to my agent. But, probably.
There was one time I was particularly broke, and I was praying to God: “God, I’ll do anything. Anything! Except wait tables. Anything, God!” I had already waited enough tables in college, I believed. “Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it!”
I wish I could say that I heard an otherworldly voice, saying something profound. But all I heard was silence. And it was deafening. I felt so helpless. The only thing I could think about doing was crawling, humbly, into a restaurant and asking for a waiter position.
The second place I applied took me in. And that began a long two years of waiting on hundreds of people, many of whom were decision makers at record labels that I would’ve loved to have been signed to. I had to wait on people who told me I was average, people who didn’t return my emails or phone calls, and others whom I had heard some pretty horrible stories about. Most just didn’t have me on their radar at all, except when they needed a refill of their sweet tea.
It was super hard work. There were times in the middle of an especially tough shift that I remember going in the back bathroom and just crying. (Don’t tell anybody, OK?)
Still, many incredibly kind customers were interested in hearing what brought me to Nashville, and how it was going with my music. Some people even prayed for me, right there at their table. Some left large tips. Most people encouraged me, saying, “Don’t give up!”
I wasn’t planning to, but there sure were days that it seemed like having a dream and working your tail off to keep it alive was more weight than I could bear.
Your tenacity is inspiring!