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(Published in The Ottawa Citizen, January 4, 2004)

At last, a 'sell-out' performance: Ottawa singer/songwriter Wendy DeMos has gone on the road to experience life as a travelling musician. This is the second of her occasional dispatches from the tour.

By Wendy DeMos

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

-- Marianne Williamson, from A Return to Love

Played for an audience of three last night and sold three CDs. I like those percentages.

Serendipity Cafe in Rossport, a hamlet in the heart of northern Lake Superior, is an elegant but quaint restaurant that welcomes entertainment to draw crowds.

The staff (who numbered three, so actually there were six audience members) say that in summer it's busy and vibrant, but by November, when I arrived, everything slows down.

Though the crowd was small, I couldn't have found a more supportive and joyful audience who came from Schreiber, a larger nearby town.

Since I didn't have a performance scheduled for the next night, Roger, the co-owner, offered me the quaint guest cottage for another night. I spent it relaxing, writing, hiking, and driving into Schreiber to check my e-mail.

After another peaceful evening, I woke early and my dog, Mieke, and I headed off for Dryden where I planned to spend the night even though my house concert there had been cancelled. Too bad. Cancelled concerts are a major drag considering the travelling musician is relying on those nights of accommodation as well as the income.

It was all forgotten by the next night when I performed in Kenora at Bernice and Peter Connolly's place. A kind-hearted, dog-loving couple made Mieke and me feel most comfortable.

I connected really well with Bernice and we talked about the importance of creativity and making time for it in your life. Making time for the things you love to do.

It's crucial to work toward becoming a fulfilled person, we agreed, and not just cater to others' needs. To have your own life and interests. Or else, when your children leave the nest you'll have to start from scratch developing -- or just finding out -- what it is you love to do.

In the same vein, Oprah's TV show tackled the dilemma faced by women who put all their energy into everyone else and not themselves. I watched this episode and was inspired to write a song about it called Dreams Slip Away:

She wakes up in the morning grabs a coffee

Now what's she got to do today

There's lunches to be made, the kids need better grades

And the boss wants that report by noon

Like being pulled in this way and being pulled in that

It's hard to get your balance when you're racing to catch up.

Next stop: Winnipeg.

Did a double in Winnipeg. That is, my children's show during the day and a house concert at night.

Pam and Kevin -- and their four young sons -- were my hosts. An organized and efficient person, Pam had her living room set up with a stage area and chairs when I arrived after the three-hour drive from Kenora.

That afternoon at a local church I performed my disco-infused,
environmentally themed show for kids called The Underwater Adventures of Sam Clam and Diver Dan for about 20 youngsters and then, in the evening, performed my songs for the adults back at the house.

The evening crowd of 24 or so was the hardest to date. It had a different energy than I usually notice at my concerts. I didn't feel that definite transfer between myself and the audience that tells me we're engaged and on a journey together.

The group was mostly from Pam and Kevin's church so I figured they'd really like my many spiritually themed songs. They were certainly receptive, though I picked up an unusual energy -- particularly when I played my mischievous song Are You Dangerous? a song about -- as Walt Disney's Bambi says -- that
"titterpated" feeling you have, at the beginning of a relationship. That intensity. That energy. OK, to be blunt, that lust.

The smattering of applause along with the lack of chuckles after the song told me that perhaps it had been a looooooong time since they had felt that emotion. But they seemed to enjoy the show. Plus I sold a few CDs.

My throat felt scratchy throughout this concert. I first noticed a
scratchiness in Rossport, but now it seemed to be getting worse. I looked forward to driving to Regina with lots of quiet -- no singing along with CDs.

The next morning Pam sent me off with a travel cup full of coffee and I headed for Saskatchewan's capital. The flatlands were marvellous. I put the van in cruise mode, and relaxed to CBC Radio and delicious silence.

Though it's fabulous to listen to music on the road, one of my favourite parts of a road trip is simply the silence. No need to talk. Just the drone of the wheels on the road.

The downtown Regina show the next night was a lot of fun, and the club had a great sound system. I love that. Got a couple of people from the audience to join me on stage for a few tunes.

This was the only club I had encountered, though, that didn't provide accommodation. At midnight, when the gig ended, I had to figure out what I would do. Where would I stay?

I didn't want to pay $50-plus for a motel for just a few hours. A brainwave: I drove a couple of blocks into the Ramada Inn's heated underground parking garage, found a spot and slept in my van.

At 7 a.m., I started the van, drove to the gate and rolled down my window ready to tell the attendant I had stayed overnight. The parking lot worker turned around and looked at me as if to ask: "What could you possibly want?"

I realized there was no reason for hotel "guests" to stop, and simply drove out while he waved. I waved back, smiled, and off I went, headed for Alberta.