Bareilles - Sounds like me: my life

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Copyright 2015 by Sara Bareilles

Unless otherwise noted, all photographs are part of the authors collection.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition October 2015

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Interior design by Laura Palese

Jacket photographs by Shervin Lainez

Jacket design by Jackie Seow

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bareilles, Sara.

Sounds like me : my life (so far) in song / Sara Bareilles.First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition.

pages cm

1. Bareilles, Sara. 2. SingersUnited StatesBiography. I. Title.

ML420.B166A3 2015

782.42164092dc23

[B]

2015015754

ISBN 978-1-4767-2777-6

ISBN 978-1-4767-2778-3 (ebook)

BY BEN FOLDS

M Y INTRODUCTION TO SARA was seeing her face on the free promotional CD of her major label debut Little Voice before using it to prop up an uneven leg of my entertainment center in the corner of my living room. Im pretty sure I didnt even take it out of the clear wrapper, as I already had an opener for my next tour. I could hear the crunch of the plastic case as the shelf settled into a satisfactory approximation of level. I was glad I got that in the mail! A few months later, when I heard Love Song in a shoe store, I was ashamed. I walked across the mall parking lot to Best Buy to buy a copy sans hole in singers face. It deserved to be purchased and played to death, and so it was.

Years later, Sara Bareilles is one of my favorite humans in the world, and in my opinion, one of the finest singers and pop music artists of our time. I can tell you firsthand that whether its having a laugh stageside before a performance, a minor breakdown at a coffee shop during recording sessions, or attempting to escape the Sony Studios parking lot to avoid more reality TV hair extensions, Sara is the same Sara who you hear on your iPod, on the radio, or while buying shoes. She will soon be keeping you company for the next two hundred pages in that same brilliant voice that has won her a mainstream audience that follows her every word with the zeal of a small cult. For me, this book, like her songs, is like having a conversation with the lady herself, minus my constant interruptions. In this case, that bit is nicely contained in this single-page foreword that you can skip if you like, that in fact could have been boiled down to this:

Dear Sara,

Please forgive me for the hole I put in your face and for allowing TV producers to dress you in twenty-inch high-heeled stilettos. You are a true friend, a brilliant musical theater composer, and now a damn book author. You constantly uphold my faith in people, music, and still, after all these years, the corner of my entertainment center.

You are beautiful.

Ben

I HAVE BEEN WRITING this book for over two years.

Over two years for eight essays.

Over two years for eight essays about myself, whom I spend a great deal of time with, and know a lot about. If youre not great with subtext, Ill help you out:

Writing this book was difficult.

I said yes to this project back in 2013, because I loved the idea of writing a book. Thats like buying white jeans because you like the idea of looking good in them. I think we all know where this is headed. It was nice at first. I smugly skated around on the phrase, Im working on a book right now.... and people gave me raised eyebrows and looks of wonderment and I felt like sparkly peppermint candy for a few months. Then the edges faded and shit got real. Instead of a cabin in the woods with a typewriter and a basset hound, I had a laptop, a winter in New York, a deadline, and anxiety.

I kicked and screamed and wrestled and lost. I traveled and ignored and distracted and apologized. I watched it like a rattlesnake out of the corner of my eye and hoped it would just slither away. When it didnt, I spent countless hours in coffee shops, restaurants, and at my kitchen table, writing to meet a hard deadline that came and went well over a year ago. I considered giving back the money I got from the publisher. I considered putting this off for another few years until I became smart enough or wise enough or funny enough to know how to do this. Then, at the encouragement of my managers, I decided to take a long break from it.

I wrote a musical.

It was easier to write a musical than this set of eight essays.

After about a year and a half of fighting it, I finally surrendered. I took a break from flogging myself with the question, What business do I have writing a book? and decided to do it anyway. That question didnt have an answer, and the truth is that nobody out there in the world needs this book. Nobody but me. I needed it.

It taught me to love something difficult.

Writing this book was hard. In fact, I would say its the hardest thing Ive ever done. But the epiphany was recognizing that I could maybe still love this thing not only in spite of it being challenging, but because of it. It was as I sat with that truth that I understood why I fought this so hard. It feels infinitely more vulnerable to speak about my life without the metaphor and mask of music or my singing voice. I had to take a look at who I am without those things. These essays are a much more direct line to the inner workings of my mind and my heart, and thats an exposed place to find yourself and your little machine.

I leaned on the familiar foundation of my own music to find my way into this new kind of writing, and eventually the book evolved into a collection of stories, each anchored by a song. It felt right to weave my music into this writing in some way, and it helped the essays start flowing like the tiny belabored trickle they were intended to be. I tried to be candid. I tried to be honest. I tried to remember things in an unbiased way. I tried to be at least a little funny. I tried not to gossip. I tried to be myself, as wholeheartedly as possible. I started to enjoy it, and that was astonishing. I neared the finish line bruised but happy, all the while dodging the main question anyone would ask....