Allen stood outside the small, unassuming music shop where his first guitar lesson with Doug was scheduled. The weather was crisp, the kind of autumn day that felt fresh and cool without biting at your skin. His heart thumped in his chest as he stared at the faded "Guitar Lessons" sign hanging just above the glass door. The nervous energy was building inside him—equal parts excitement and anxiety—but he knew he had to push through. This was a necessary step if he wanted to get better.
He took a deep breath, adjusted the strap of his guitar case slung over his shoulder, and stepped inside. The door gave a soft chime as it opened, and the smell of old vinyl and polished wood immediately greeted him. The shop was cozy, a little cluttered with guitars lining the walls, amplifiers stacked in the corners, and music sheets scattered across a few worn-out chairs. It had a vibe that was both chaotic and welcoming.
At the counter, a man in his mid-40s with long graying hair tied back in a ponytail looked up from a guitar he was tuning. This had to be Doug. He looked the part—like a seasoned rock musician who had seen and done it all.
"Hey, you must be Allen," Doug said, his voice smooth and calm, as if he'd met a thousand aspiring musicians just like Allen before. He gave a nod toward Allen's guitar case. "Brought your own gear, huh? I like that."
"Yeah, figured I should bring my own guitar. It's not the best, but it gets the job done," Allen replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Doug chuckled. "Don't worry about that. The guitar's just a tool. It's what you do with it that matters."
Allen smiled, though he still felt a little out of place. Here was Doug, someone who had clearly been playing guitar his whole life, and Allen was about to expose just how lacking his own skills were. But he reminded himself that this was why he was here—to learn, to improve, and to get better.
"Come on back," Doug said, leading Allen to a small room in the back of the shop. It was more like a storage space turned studio, filled with more guitars and a few amps plugged into the wall. A couple of folding chairs sat in the middle, one of which Doug gestured for Allen to take.
Allen sat down, opening his guitar case and pulling out his instrument. It wasn't anything fancy—just a basic electric guitar he'd saved up for back in high school. It had seen better days, with a few nicks and scratches along the body, but it was still functional. He ran his fingers along the strings, feeling the familiar hum of tension beneath his fingertips.
"So, tell me what you're hoping to get out of these lessons," Doug said, settling into his own chair across from Allen. He picked up an acoustic guitar that had been resting against the wall and strummed it casually. His fingers moved effortlessly across the strings, producing a warm, rich sound that made Allen's guitar playing seem amateurish in comparison.
Allen hesitated for a moment, not sure how to phrase it. "Well, I've been playing guitar for a while, but I feel like I've hit a wall. I can play basic stuff, but I'm not where I need to be. I've got this showcase coming up, and I want to make sure I don't embarrass myself on stage."
Doug nodded thoughtfully, still plucking away at his guitar. "I get it. You're feeling stuck. Happens to everyone, no matter how long they've been playing. The important thing is that you're here to get better. And trust me, we'll get you there. But I need to know what your weak points are. What kind of stuff are you struggling with?"
Allen thought for a second. "I think my transitions are sloppy. Like, I can get through a song, but when I have to switch chords quickly or hit a tricky rhythm, it just falls apart. And I'm not great at improvising. I can play what I know, but if something unexpected comes up, I freeze."
Doug gave him a small smile. "Alright. We can definitely work on that. Transitions and rhythm are all about muscle memory, so we'll drill those until it's second nature. As for improvising, that's more about confidence than anything else. You gotta trust yourself to take risks, even if you mess up. It's part of the learning process."
Allen nodded, trying to take it all in. It made sense, but hearing it from someone as experienced as Doug made him feel like his struggles were fixable—that he wasn't doomed to be a mediocre guitarist forever.
"Let's start with something simple," Doug said, setting his acoustic guitar aside and motioning for Allen to play. "Show me where you're at right now. Play me something you've been working on."
Allen swallowed, his fingers trembling slightly as he adjusted the strap of his guitar and positioned his hands on the strings. He ran through the opening chords of a song he'd been practicing, something he had written himself but never felt fully confident playing. As he moved from one chord to the next, his fingers slipped a few times, hitting the wrong notes or buzzing on the strings. His rhythm was a little uneven, and by the time he got to the chorus, he could feel the frustration building.
When he finished, Doug gave a small nod, not of judgment, but understanding.
"Okay," Doug said, leaning forward. "First of all, you've got some good stuff in there. Your song has potential, but I can see where the transitions are tripping you up. You're thinking too much. Your fingers aren't trusting your brain. And you're rushing the rhythm because you're nervous about making mistakes."
Allen felt a little embarrassed, but Doug didn't make him feel like a failure. Instead, it was like Doug saw the exact spots he needed to fix and had the blueprint to get him there.
"Let's work on those transitions first," Doug continued. "We're going to slow things way down. Forget about playing the whole song. I want you to go from this chord—" he demonstrated a G major, his fingers moving effortlessly into position, "—to this one." He moved to a C major.
"Now, when you do it, don't rush. Focus on clean, clear sound. You've got time. No one's timing you here."
Allen followed Doug's instructions, moving his fingers slowly from the G chord to the C chord. It was basic, but in slowing down, he started to realize how much he had been rushing. Doug watched carefully, occasionally nodding or offering small bits of feedback.
"Good. Now, try doing that back and forth. Get a feel for it. Once it feels smooth, then we'll pick up the speed."
Allen practiced switching between the two chords, trying to focus on his finger placement and the clarity of each note. After a few minutes, it started to feel a little more natural, and his hands moved with more confidence.
"Alright, now let's add some rhythm," Doug said, clapping his hands in a steady beat. "Just follow along. No need to be perfect, just stay on time."
As Allen played, Doug kept clapping, guiding him through the rhythm. It wasn't easy, but with Doug's coaching, he felt like he was actually improving. His fingers moved more smoothly, and the chord changes were less jarring.
"See? You're getting there," Doug said with a grin. "It's all about practice. If you can nail these basics, everything else will start to fall into place."
They continued for the next hour, running through different exercises and drills. Doug was patient but firm, pushing Allen when he needed to but never making him feel like he was doing something wrong. By the end of the lesson, Allen's fingers were aching, but he also felt a sense of accomplishment. He had made progress, even if it was small.
As they wrapped up, Doug leaned back in his chair. "You did good today, Allen. Keep practicing what we went over, and we'll build from there. You've got potential, man. Don't let the fear of messing up hold you back. Everyone starts somewhere."
Allen smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "Thanks, Doug. I really appreciate it."
"Anytime," Doug said with a nod. "I'll see you next week. And remember—practice, practice, practice."
Allen left the music shop feeling more determined than ever. The lesson had given him a sense of clarity. He knew where he needed to improve, and now he had the tools to get better. There was still a long way to go before the showcase, but for the first time in a while, he felt like he was moving in the right direction.
And as he walked down the street, his guitar case slung over his shoulder, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement. He was going to nail that showcase—not just because he wanted to, but because he knew he could.