Is Making Music Just About Making Money?

As I step into the vast and unpredictable world of the music industry—navigating through the internet and the experiences of others—I find myself oscillating between excitement and discouragement. The journey depends entirely on who you meet, trust, and sometimes, who you pay in the hope of being heard and seen for your art. It can feel like riding the most turbulent wave of your life.

A little over twenty years ago, I moved to Nashville just before my twins were born, fresh out of music college. Back then, the industry’s expectations were overwhelming. I used to joke with my bandmates that we should rename ourselves “Meat on Ice” because that’s exactly how I felt when music executives spoke to us. We were taught that “having the look” was just as important as having talent. We were warned that our artistic relevance had an expiration date because, as we were told, “the general public only wants to see attractive young people.”

That message tore at me. I had come to Nashville with a fire in my heart—a passion for songwriting and connecting with people through music. But I also had enough rebellion in me to sabotage myself, convinced that people-pleasing was the only way to succeed. I procrastinated, neglected practice, and partied too much. I enjoyed jamming with musicians more than competing for attention. And in that, I grieved my creative potential.

Then I met my late husband, a flute player, and together, we found joy in blues clubs, playing old songs instead of chasing the industry’s approval. Life took me in a different direction—I became a mother to twins and, five years later, another son. I poured my heart into raising my boys, teaching music, and earning two more degrees. But through it all, the desire to write and create never left me. And now, here I am again, hearing the same old warnings about the music business—how it’s cold, corrupt, and heartless.

But this time, I’m making the decision I should have made years ago: I will create and share my music no matter what.

I know the power of songs. I’ve witnessed firsthand how my music has touched people, made them cry, and helped them through their darkest moments. That kind of impact is priceless. As a licensed counselor, I’ve heard too many heartbreaking stories of trauma and isolation. I KNOW people crave connection. I KNOW they don’t just want to see young, beautiful faces—they want something real.

Music has the power to transcend words, to heal, to break barriers of age and appearance. My life has been rich, deep, and profoundly worth sharing. And so, I will create—not for capital gain, but to inspire. To bring meaning. To remind people that art is more than an industry; it is the power of creation itself, flowing through us when we embrace the gifts we’ve been given.