Songwriting is a wonderful outlet for processing complicated feelings. To turn outrage, shock, anger and pain into a song is like being an alchemist transforming coal into silver and gold. But at times I’ve tricked myself into believing that I needed conflict in order to be an artist, and that without it I simply wasn’t interesting enough. I’ve even gone so far as to create conflict, hoping to conjure myself into some dizzy, destructive, emotional writing spell. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time I just felt at odds with myself, and writing became associated with a lot of painful, crippled thinking.
On a recent morning walk, I passed a tree blooming with orange flowers. I stopped and admired their delicate beauty for a moment, then I imagined them whispering to me like sweet little children, “Can you write a song about us?” And I thought, “No dammit! Can’t you see I’m focusing on my PAIN?” But at least I noticed, and to me that’s progress.
Writing about flowers is actually really hard. Rather, convincing myself to sit down and write a song about flowers feels sort of ridiculous. But when I think about how easily I’d sit down and try to write about something painful, I start to question everything.
One of my favorite writers Rebecca Solnit has a great quote:
“Despair is a black leather jacket that everyone looks good in. Hope is a frilly pink dress that exposes the knees.”
“A Gash On The Cheek” was written in a black leather jacket, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m thankful to have had the tools to transform coal into silver and gold. Lately I’ve been working on a new kind of alchemy that transforms the quiet whispers of flower children into an overpowering gospel choir of hope and harmony. I’ll keep you posted on my progress.
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