the first time. âThanks for the ride. Sorry to be so distracted. I just have this feeling that everything I do or say today has the potential to make or break my career.â
Luis smiled. âI get it. South by Southwest. Itâs a big deal. But try to relax; enjoy yourself. Let some of the good stuff come to you, or youâll find yourself always chasing the next big thing. Adiós, chico , and buena suerte .â
Luis drove off. For a moment, Gaz didnât move. He just stood in front of the building, wishing his father were still alive to see him play, to see that even at sixteen, Gaz was taking the music seriously.
Finally, he walked inside and over to the registration desk. After checking in, he hung his laminated credentials card around his neck and began to explore.
His first panel of the day was called Songwriting 101 and featured names that the ordinary music public would never knowâEdith Norell, Susanna Toobin, Shawn Brinks, and Hiro Utada. Even though their names werenât well known, among them, the four songwriters had written sixteen number-one songs and won two dozen Grammys. Gaz remembered fondly how he and his brothers had played Shawn Brinksâs âBump This. Jump This. Thump Thisâ at their very first school talent show, in the sixth grade. They had been kind of pathetic, but also had been so excited to be up on a stage that it hadnât even bothered them.
Finding his way to the designated room, he took a seat in the back. While the panel members spoke, he took notes more fervently than he ever had at any class in school. At the end, when the moderator, Kenneth Sanchez, a popular Austin radio DJ, called for questions, Gaz willed his hand to rise, but couldnât find the courage.
However, when Kenneth called, âLast question!â not only did Gazâs hand shoot in the air, but his whole body went with it.
Kenneth laughed, and the whole room joined him. âThe last question goes to Mr. Enthusiasm, sitting in the last row,â the DJ said.
Gaz stood up. He cleared his throat nervously. âAll of you have written songs that have touched literally millions of people. But to hear you talk today, each and every one of your songs is incredibly personal. How do you make your personal feelings matter to the world?â He was surprised to hear his voice sounding deep and confident when he spoke, even though he felt nervous inside.
âGood question,â Kenneth said. âWho wants to answer?â
Susanna Toobin lifted her microphone. âIâll take this one.â She was a petite woman with long dark hair and blunt-cut bangs. Even though she hadnât played a note, she sat cross-legged with a guitar on her lap, as if the inspiration to jam might hit at any time. âWhatâs your name?â she asked.
âGaspar,â he told her.
She smiled. âWell, Gaspar, I love your question. As I mentioned before, Iâm from Chicago, and for me one of the touchstones of my writing life is the great Chi-town playwright Lorraine Hansberry, who saidâand Iâm paraphrasingââto achieve the universal you must pay incredible attention to the specific.â Thatâs the way to make the personal reach out and touch others. At least, I hope it is, or else Iâm going to go out of business real fast.â
The room was filled with chuckles. âThank you,â Gaz said, softly, flushing because he was aware that so many of the eyes in the room were still on him.
The moderator stood. âI think thatâs a great note to end on,â he announced. âPlease give our panelists a round of applause.â
Gaz clapped loudly, and when the room was nearly empty, he finally picked up his backpack to leave. He was outside the seminar room fumbling for his schedule when a girl approached him.
âHi,â she said. âIâm Saniyah. And youâre Gaspar, right? What kind of name is
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