I'm in Nashville onstage at a pretty cool venue playing a set of my original songs. The place still had a fair amount of people in it. I was on my last song. I was tired and it was a long drive home. Everyone was loving the show though, and what was supposed to be me doing a few songs turned into me doing a full on concert set. Then my front teeth popped out of the roof of my mouth.
It was the last time I played a set in Nashville.
I was having a great time playing that set. I was playing every song I could think of that I ever wrote - one's that were serious to one's that were down right silly. We were all having a great time. It was a lot of fun.
But then, short of someone busting in the place and shooting it up, the worst happened.
I stopped playing mid-song, slinked off stage, packed my guitar, paid my tab while holding my mouth shut, and with my head hung low, walked out to my truck and drove home.
Everyone wanted to shake my hand and talk to me. I remember signing one autograph on the way out the door for some couple from Ohio or something. But I couldn't say a word, just nod, so I left.
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I remember the first time I was on stage. It was a precursor to what might come.
My dad was the music minister at our church - which meant, he led everyone in all the songs.
There was a piano player, the preachers wife, who was pretty awesome and must have known every song in the songbook. My dad couldn't get two words of a song out before she was already right there with him, playing along.
What gave me the idea, at 5 years old, that she would know the song I had just moments before made up in my mind, I have no idea (read the previous sentence again).
I raised my hand and kept it up high and before long my dad saw me and called me up. I whispered in his ear I wanted to sing a song. He tells the audience who all give me the "awe, isn't that cute" giggle.
Then, he hands me the microphone.
I look over at Miss Rose. Start the song. Start the song Miss Rose. MISS ROSE! START THE SONG!!
She didn't know the song. Humiliated.
I mumbled a few words that sounded like something and ran off stage to great praise and adulation.
Actually, I slinked off stage with my head down because I had blown my shining moment and the greatest opportunity I'd been given at 5 years old.
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One year later I was in a play at school. I was the character of Sneezy in Cinderella and the Seven Dwarfs.
I had one line.
"My name is, sn, sne, sneeee, sneezy!" And then I had to pretend to sneeze.
All the kids, the other dwarfs made their way to the mic. Said their lines and backed away.
I went to the mic and forgot who I was. There were people out there! And a lot of them.
They all started laughing.
The teacher was whispering my line to me. I still couldn't remember it.
Finally I got it out and slinked back in line with the others.
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In 5th grade I was in a musical at school.
We rehearsed and rehearsed and rehearsed some more. It was like boot camp for a 10 year old.
Oklahoma. A good ole American standard musical that had been around for generations.
Determined to give it my all, I did. I sang like there was no tomorrow. I mean, I really through myself into the part I had -- that of some kid standing on riser at the back of the stage with a bunch of other kids with no talent for being on the actual stage up front doing solos.
It was grueling. But the time had finally come. Our opening night reception.
All the parents and faculty would be there - which meant, most of the town.
We sang our songs and the show went on without a hitch. Perfection. Standing O's. Adulation.
I broke down crying.
Right there in front of God and everyone - I balled my eyes out.
I really don't know why - maybe it was all the pressure had been lifted off. Whatever the reason, I managed to do it again, and I slinked back to the back of the room and hoped no one saw me.
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I've always had the fear, from the earliest moments on, that I was going to do something to embarrass myself on stage - and, I have.
Many, many times.
I might get it from my father because I've literally seen him fall off stage time after time. I've seen him forget lines to songs more times than I can count. I've seen him rewind a song back too far, up too far, nearly throw the machine through the wall and whatever else - onstage.
He kept getting back up there.
I did too. You have to keep getting back up.
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My last gig - professional - was for that one company I talk about a lot - the entertainment venue.
I was their spokesperson on the radio, on TV, and on the stage.
I was on their stage at every event we had - the MC - Master of Ceremonies (redneck games, however you want to say it).
In addition, at nearly all the concerts from that time I was the guy on stage introducing the company and throwing out the swag with the girls. It was a great time.
If I didn't keep getting back on stage, after those (and many more times where something went horribly wrong), I wouldn't have been right for that job. I would have never made it.
I would have doubted myself and my ability onstage and in front of a crowd.
I thank God I didn't spit my teeth out again. For crying out loud, that was the worst of all time I think - and that one really did just about ruin me and my desire to be onstage in front of people.
Or on TV. Or the Internet (youtube). Or even on the radio.
Fear is something else. Let it and it will definitely control your mind.
After all, I had to talk even if I wasn't going to be singing. And what if?
But what happened instead was SO much better. I got past those events, got back onstage, and ended up having the time of my life.
Not being afraid to get back up on stage and give a speech, or sing, or even do a comedy set (something I did for the first time a few weeks ago) is the one thing that's created more opportunity than I could ever imagine.
Doors will close if you're afraid of getting back up. They open when you show you're willing to get back up time and time again and not be afraid.
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