“Trials of Educational Composer” by Albert Rozin
From “Piano Teacher” Jul-Aug 1965
A few years ago on the occasion of my hundredth publication my neighborhood music dealer arranged a full window display of my teaching material. This caught the attention of the local newspapers, who sent their reporters to interview me. They felt that my accomplishments would be of interest to the community where I have resided and taught music for over thirty years.
A few days after the stories about me were printed, I was bombarded with mail from readers, including many from other boroughs. Frankly, I had expected some reaction, but what amazed me was the sort of letters that I received.
With a few exceptions, most of these came from poets and frustrated composers, who sent me their verses and musical compositions and offered me all kinds of inducements to collaborate with them. I regretfully returned their work and suggested that they submit their manuscripts to publishers instead. Little did they know that it took almost thirty years of hard work and many rejections (which I get to this day) before I achieved some degree of recognition.
In the hope of helping piano teachers who have a desire to be a composer, I am attempting to give some idea of what it takes to get published. Needless to say, I’m speaking from personal experience, but I feel quite certain that most of the composers whose names are familiar to piano teachers have had similar experiences.
I started composing piano solos for my students in the late 1920’s and published my first piece at my own expense in 1932. Seeing my name in print for the first time on the cover of a piece of music impressed me immensely, in spite of the fact that I had no way of distributing the five hundred copies I had had printed. It was at this time that I dared to submit my pieces to reputable publishers, but I waited ten anxious years before having a manuscript accepted by a major publisher. My joy was indescribable, but slightly marred by a secret feeling that there must be an error somewhere and that surely any day my manuscript would be returned. However, when I received the contract, I relaxed and felt encouraged to try again.
During those ten years, I would submit manuscripts regularly but would always get polite rejections. Occasionally, rejections would come with criticisms that were helpful to me in my future composing. One particular editor would send friendly letters of rejection, always encouraging me to try again. When I next submitted new manuscripts to the same editor, I complimented him for his courteous and constructive comments. A few months later I received a letter from this editor saying, “I’m glad you like my rejections; here’s another one.”
A year or so later my second piano solo was accepted by another company, and eight months afterwards this composition was released. By now I was very much encouraged and felt that all I had to do thenceforth was to keep composing and submitting. I was confident that before long I would be forced to abandon teaching and devote myself exclusively to composing, for surely the royalties would adequately support me. But nothing of the sort happened. What followed was a steady stream of submittals, followed by an equally steady stream of rejections, with only a rare acceptance. Shortly after this disappointing period, a publisher to whom I had submitted a few pieces for the first time wrote saying that he liked my compositions and suggested that I prepare a collection of twelve original piano solos. Thus my first album was published. From then on acceptances came more frequently.
People often ask, “What comes first, the title or the music?” Well, that varies, but for me it is easier to compose when I have a title in mind to set the mood or character of a piece. The next step is to decide on the grade. Then comes creating the melody and establishing the rhythmic pattern to describe the title. However, if a music idea comes first, I often find it difficult to think of a title. I have lain awake many a night pondering over appropriate titles. Since there are so many commonplace titles on the market, it is no easy task to think up something original.
Titles are very important. An older child, for example, will rebel against a juvenile title, even if the music is very elementary. A boy student will resent a title like “My Favorite Doll.” Since publishers are interested in reaching as many students as possible, titles play a very significant part in the merchandising of elementary music. Sometimes the title is superior to the music; in fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if one of these days a publisher would accept a title but reject the music!
Although you may have a theme that is to your satisfaction, you still have to create a second contrasting theme that retains the character of the first. The importance of this cannot be overestimated. Many a composition is rejected because of the lack of interest in the second theme. There are many other problems connected with the second theme, such as bridges, and modulations.
When you have finally finished a composition, make a careful copy in ink (keep a duplicate in case of loss), and submit it to a publisher via first class mail. Don’t forget to enclose return postage; publishers receive hundreds of manuscripts for review, and it is unfair to expect them to pay for the return postage. Then the waiting period sets in.
There is one quality an educational composer must cultivate, and that is patience. You may have to wait anywhere from four weeks to six months for the publisher’s report. If you are fortunate and your manuscript is accepted, you wait up to a year for the proofs, and then you wait again from six months to a year for actual publication. If your music is accepted on a royalty basis (some publishers purchase outright only), you wait at least a year after publication for your first royalty check. If your manuscript is rejected, you submit your music to another publisher and start the waiting process all over again; you cannot submit the same manuscript to more than one publisher at a time. So you can see how your life may become emotionally involved with your letter carrier.
In some rare cases you might wait for years before the publisher actually releases your music. As a matter of fact, at this writing I am waiting for some compositions to be published that were accepted four years ago.
When I receive proofs after one of these lengthy waiting periods, I find to my amazement that I don’t recall composing the piece. Since one grows and matures musically as the years roll by, more often than not he feels a desire to rewrite his composition; but alas, it is too late: the music is already engraved. All one can hope to do is to make some minor changes--a note or a fingering here and there, but nothing more.
You can see by now that recognition does not come overnight, and why it requires infinite patience and almost the life-span of a Methuselah before a considerable number of your compositions reach music stores.
If you expect to compose for the early grades (and this is the most difficult area), you should have experience teaching elementary students in order to be cognizant of their limited technical capacity. You must also have a good background of keyboard harmony and some knowledge of form. Many so-called easy pieces by the great masters are, in my opinion, actually poor teaching material. This is probably because those composers did not teach elementary students and, therefore, failed to understand technical problems that beginners have. Take, for example, Beethoven’s ever popular Fur Elise. The lovely first theme is fairly easy technically and retains its charm even though played slowly. But the demands of the second theme are beyond the elementary level; I have yet to hear a young student play it effectively, let alone the still more difficult cadenza following the third theme.
Another example is Massenet’s Aragonaise. Although not composed originally for piano, it finds a place in almost every piano student’s repertoire. The young student enjoys rollicking through the difficult-sounding pages of the first two themes, but when he reaches the last page with the octave chords, he collapses.
If your manuscript is rejected, don’t be too discouraged. It may be because the publisher has a backlog of accepted manuscripts in the grade you submitted. Try to shrug the rejection off and submit your manuscript to another house, always enclosing a short letter describing your musical background and the educational purpose of the enclosed piece. Should you continue to get rejections on the same manuscript from four or five publishers, however, it may be that the composition isn’t up to standard. Try with another composition and always be optimistic.
A word here about remuneration. You will hardly become rich from composing teaching material. Even those of my colleagues who have hundreds of compositions on the market still make their basic living from teaching. Educational music is unlike commercial music, where one hit tune like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer can bring the composer a fortune. Only those who write method books can make money (and you can count the successful ones on your fingers), but even in this field opportunities are limited at present because the market is flooded. Those composers who have written methods and have made good, have worked very hard for their success. They have had to travel around the country giving lectures and demonstrating their works, often in a different city each day, away from family and studio for months at a time. Yes, it takes a lot of stamina and energy to promote your music.
If you have a few published compositions, you are eligible to join ASCAP. Outside of some prestige, ASCAP is not particularly beneficial at present to the educational composer. The commercial composer fares better, since he gets royalties and residuals when his music is performed. However, belonging to ASCAP is worthwhile for the educational composer because of a trend to give him more recognition. Incidentally, I do get a small check from time to time for a radio broadcast of a student recital.
In view of all the anxieties, tensions, and frustrations, you may reasonably ask, “Is writing educational music worthwhile?” My answer is emphatically Yes. If you are a creative person, no rejection will stop you; you have no control over your drive to compose. It is pleasant to meet teachers at conventions and workshops who, noting the nametag on your lapel, tell you that they use your music. It is also rewarding to find your composition in an album in the company of Bartok and other famous composers. Because of the spelling of my surname, I find myself listed in catalogs followed by none other than Anton Rubinstein. This is almost embarrassing, and I thrill at the proximity. When you read favorable reviews of your composition in a music magazine, you experience great satisfaction at having made some contribution in your chosen field. Even receiving mail with enclosed recital programs featuring your compositions from teachers all over the country is enough to stimulate one to continue composing.
So, if you have the urge to compose teaching material, keep writing and keep on submitting. Try to stop shadowing the mailman and, most of all, always create con amore. If you can do all that, your grandchildren may someday be proud of you.
