If I Wasn’t a Writer…

…I’d be a rock star.

I bet you’re thinking, “Who does this chick think she is?”

Well, I think I’m someone who could have become a friggin’ rock star!

Let me back up. I’ve always loved music. In my 60s now, I grew up during a time when the music scene exploded with the likes of Janis Joplin, The Jefferson Airplane, The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, Crosby, Stills & Nash and so many more luminaries of their time.

Never a fan of punk, which was to come later, I realize now that it had its merits but I still considered it to be just “noise.” Except for Debbie Harry and Blondie, who really came into their own during the Disco era.

The bands mentioned above were “noisy,” certainly. Gloriously so.

Not only were they virtuosos musically, but they could also sing. Really sing. Grace Slick. Janis. Stevie Nicks. Steven Stills. Lindsay Buckingham. The voices on these vocalists! They could bring the roof down with their power.

Now, I’m not an old fart who doesn't appreciate contemporary music. I do and I have eclectic tastes. But I can’t talk about music without mentioning these idols.

“The Summer of Love.” “The San Francisco Sound.” The “Counterculture!” What an iconic period.

I wasn’t yet old enough to attend many of the live concerts, but I had vinyl. Plenty of vinyl to keep me rockin.’

Since I was a kid, I’d always been hesitant to speak in a public setting. In front of the class at school, for example. Oral reports were to be dreaded.

And then, inexplicably, I embarked on a profession where I had to do that on a daily basis: Advertising. I’d have to present my work to clients, as well as internal staff — creative directors and the like.

Suddenly, I went from being scared of the spotlight to feeding off it. I was in my glory when in front of a room.

Several years ago, when I was employed at what was to become my last fulltime gig, I started a band. It began as a Halloween goof and then took off from there.

And, because it was determined that I had “pipes,” yours truly was the lead singer. I loved it. Sucked up the spotlight like I was born to it.

We played covers of songs from other bands, like The Doors, Cowboy Junkies, Talking Heads, Ramones, Blue Oyster Cult, as well as tunes by vocalists such as Lucinda Williams. Mostly rock, but some blues, as well.

I recall one of my proudest moments was hitting all the crazy notes in Nirvana’s “Lithium.” That sucker was hard.

Our band played at company parties (also instigated by me) and at neighboring bars. We even played an outdoor gig at one of our mainstay taverns. On an elevated stage, yet. One of our coworkers actually brought a pack of brand new underwear and threw them at our heads! A fan.

What a hoot.

I miss those times. That camaraderie. The sometimes-boozy rehearsals. Even the stupid squabbling that occurred from time to time over our setlists. And also, I miss the attention.

I believed I was no longer frightened of being in the limelight because I realized that people looked up to us for having the balls to do what we were doing! It was like a lightbulb going off.

Public speaking is a known panic trigger for so many. We’re afraid that others will judge how we look and talk and think.

I wish I could help these individuals. Let them know they can overcome their fear. I would tell them that most people are far too busy fighting their own insecurities to fuel yours. Maybe that could be a side hustle…?

If I could think of a rock star who I might emulate, that would be Joan Jett. Her look, her raspy vocals, her tough-yet-sexy persona would suit me just fine, thank you very much.

And she knows her way around an axe! Or, “ax,” if you will.) Man, I would love that!

That’s the path I believe I would have taken (hindsight and all that) if I hadn’t become a writer. I’d take guitar lessons, practice until my fingertips bled and yeah…write my own music. (See? Can’t get away from it.)

I’d stand on a stage under the high beams with my band and I’d make my audience sweat. I’d make them want me. I’d give them one hell of a show and then I’d send them home, spent.

Whew! That’s enough of that. For better or worse, I’m a writer. That was my destiny and I feel blessed. How many of us can do what we truly love?

But that said, if I was a rock star, let me leave you with a few lines of a song I’d end my show with:

“Cherry Bomb” by Joan Jett and the Runaways

Can’t stay at home, can’t stay at school. Old folks say ‘You poor little fool’. Down the streets I’m the girl next door. I’m the fox you’ve been waiting for.

Hello, daddy. Hello, mom. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb! Hello world! I’m your wild girl. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!

Thanks for reading, guys. Now I’d love to hear from you. If you weren’t a writer, what would you be, P.G. Barnett, Chris Hedges 🦄, Timothy Key, Chuck Roast, Rasheed Hooda, Stephen Dalton, Jezebel, Gurpreet Dhariwal and anyone else who cares to chime in.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

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