Why does songwriting even matter to you?

Straight out of college I was dating a really nice guy who seemed to have lots of problems with the attention I got from performing music. Believe me, I say that humbly.

Again, I was straight out of college working for the State of West Virginia in a miserable internship with inept (understatement) managers.

I sang locally and that was it. NOTHING glamorous.

But this guy’s need for my attention over the music was problematic.

One early evening I was sitting in the backyard with my Mom and my lifetime neighbor, Joyce, talking about it, when Joyce said this:

But if you take the music away from Belinda, then there’s no Belinda.

I can still hear her saying it right now.

And Joyce pretty much nailed it.ifitmatters

If you take away the music from me, I’m not me anymore.

And in all the years since, through the loves and losses, I’ve always held those words.

I sing because I like to sing.

I play piano because I can.

Songwriting is what I do whether anyone else sees a word or hears a note I put down.

I don’t know how to be anyone else.

This is how God made me.

When it all comes down, it matters because it does. Frankly, that’s enough.

…my song lost the competition. Should I quit?

Throughout the years I’ve worked with many new writers who enter competitions as a way to get their songs heard. While I admit that when I was coming up in the songwriting world competitions didn’t seem to get on my radar, I know that in this current climate they’re everywhere.

I even recommend entering song competitions to some of the people I mentor.

I don’t, however, think winning a competition is the point of entering the song.

I’ve judged lots of competitions, and I’ve listened to thousands of songs.  As I sit here typing this, I can only remember the title of one song of all the winners.

One.winning-trophy

And that one is a song one of my mentorees wrote which just won a competition over the weekend.

I think the point of entering competitions is to get your name in the game.

Like I said, I can only remember the title of one winning song, but I know countless names of writers who’ve entered those competitions. I’ve seen all kinds of writers land successes just based on being present. Some of my favorite people are ones I’ve met through being asked to give feedback on a song.

So, if your song loses a competition, should you quit?

Maybe.

I know, you were expecting a resounding “NO,” but I honestly can’t give that to you.

The question is more complicated than that to me.

See, every time my publisher sends one of my songs to an artist for consideration, I’m competing with other songs and other writers for a spot on a project. The entire nature of a staff writer’s career is based on competition if you think about it.

So, if you enter a song competition and your song doesn’t rise to the top of this particular competition, welcome to the reality of the whole thing. Music is subjective and sometimes even the song you wrote that you love the most doesn’t rise above the others.

It happens.

So should you quit?

That’s a question only you can answer.
…but I can assure you it won’t be last time your tune gets passed over.

My advice?

  • Decide what matters to you.
  • Figure out what you’re willing to put on the line for the sake of writing.

And whatever your honest answer to those questions are should dictate whether or not losing a songwriting competition makes you quit writing songs.

Help! My Co-Writer Butchered My Song

CoWriterDrama

 

 

 

One of my first ever super-cool ideas for a song was butchered by a co-writer. I don’t mean he stunk it up a little, I mean what was once a cool idea became an unsightly boil on the hind end of my little catalogue of creations for all of eternity.

I still shudder when I think about how it all went down and what a WASTED opportunity it was.

The truth is I was new to Nashville. I didn’t know anything about co-writing, but people told me to do it. So, I figured it was as good a way as any to meet people. In my naiveté, it never occurred to me that just because someone SAID they were a songwriter, it didn’t mean they knew how to write a song.

I’d packed up my life in WV and moved to the ‘big city.’ I assumed that anyone who did that had to be good. Otherwise, why would you move here?

Poor Sweet Ignorant Soul

Before I knew it, I’d given a really cool idea to guy who had no idea what to do with it and no respect for me as a writer. We got together once—long enough for me to realize that I’d made a huge mistake. Not long after that, I got a note that he’d finished  it with another writer (without bothering to include me) along with a bill for my 1/3 of the demo.

…I nearly pulled back my hair and took out my earrings!!!

 

Today, Gang, such a thing wouldn’t go down that way. I’m much, much more experienced, and I can handle a rogue if need be. (That means I can unleash my inner hillbilly, in case you didn’t catch it.)

However, the truth is there are growing pains to be had along the way. We all have them.

Since I’ve been there on a few occasions, let me give you a little advice just in case, God forbid, it happens to you as you’re wandering merrily along your way.

1. Open communication with your co-writer is not an option.

When you tell your co-writer about your super-amazing-brilliant idea, your job is communicate EVERYTHING about the idea. If you hear the song a certain way, tell them. Do not assume your brand new acquaintance can hear what’s in your head. NEVER assume that.

For example, it never occurred to me during that awful co-write experience I told you about that he wouldn’t hear the song like I did. It was just so obvious to me. …yeah, he did NOT hear the obvious.

2. Be open to hearing your idea a different way.

Before you fall off the deep end, take a step back and breathe. Consider, for a moment, that you’re wrong. What if they really did nail it and you’re the one missing it. You owe it to the song to listen with an open mind.

3. You work in service of the song.

At the end of the day, it’s not about your ego and it’s not about your co-writer’s ego. The dialogue is about the song and what serves it.

If it was your idea, and you and your co-writer can’t get on the same page, then politely ask for it back. It’s not a big deal. Just say, “Hey, this isn’t going where I wanted it to, so I’d like to take it back off the table. Let’s look for something that fits our collective styles a little better.” NO BIG DEAL. I’ve done it, and I’ve had it done to me. Absolutely no hard feelings.

Have you had an experience similar to mine? I’d love to hear about how you handled it.

 

The Closet of Gratuitous Praise

I was home on a Friday night many years ago, and “Sabrina, the Teenage Witch,” was on the television. I wasn’t watching it, mind you, but I just hadn’t flipped the channel.

In a moment of complete and utter writer BRILLIANCE, this scene happened!

If you’ve been in one of my songwriting classes, you may have heard me reference the Closet of Gratuitous Praise. It’s such a guilty admission, but it honestly comes from,” Sabrina, the Teenage Witch.” Who knew I’d have a life changing moment?!?!

CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE HAVING A CLOSET LIKE THIS???

Every time you feel ‘less than’ or ‘loser,’ you could open the closet and be affirmed.

This week I got some feedback that I’m too encouraging. It was some terrific food for thought: I’d never want someone to rely on pleasing me instead of pleasing themselves. After all, who am I? If you can’t please yourself you can’t please anyone.

Still, it hit me in a really thoughtful way so you can imagine my joy when the amazing Romi Kamburg posted the video on my web page.

So HERE ARE 3 THINGS TO REMEMBER:

1.DO NOT mistake positive feedback from someone for positive feedback from yourself. You have your own answers.

2. NEVER wait for permission. Permission isn’t found outside of you.

3. NO ONE knows what works for you better than you.

…and with that, should you ever need some big, fat gratuitous praise, here is the perfect closet!!!  You’re totally covered.

My Writing has Gone Retro

I’m a huge believer in pen-to-paper writing, or as my cousin, Darnell Arnoult calls it, the power of the pen on the page. As a songwriter, I’ve always found it interesting that the songs I start writing on paper get recorded at higher percentages than the ones I start on a laptop. I have no idea if it’s true for anyone else, but it has been for me.

I recently started taking a new class (y’all know I’m always up into something), and for this class I decided to only use a notebook and pen. No laptop. No voice recorder. I’ve gone completely retro!  Retro

Here’s Why I Think I Made a Great Call

1. I can only write down the really important concepts. Since I’m not typing, I don’t have the luxury of taking down lots of words. I can only pick the big ideas and what I think about them. This has given me a surprising amount of focus.

2. I get to doodle. I recall more of what people say if I can doodle while they’re talking. I’m not the only one, it seems. Jackie Andrade, a psychologist at the University of Plymouth in England, published a study in Applied Cognitive Psychology finding, among other things, that doodlers aren’t daydreaming. In other words, your mind doesn’t wander like it does when you just have to sit and listen and concentrate. 

3. I have archives. I’m a sucker for written pages. I love looking back through old handwritten lyrics and notes. There’s ALWAYS ‘character’ on the pages. Just from looking at the penmanship I can tell how I was feeling that day. I write big and sloppy, small and perfect, and every way in between depending on how I’m feeling. And while I don’t know that anyone would ever care to see the pages, I get a kick out them, and that’s enough for me.

What’s your take on pen-to-paper vs. laptop? Leave a comment below. I’m curious!

P.S. YES! Pencils are fine, too.(Like I didn’t know you would ask?!?!?!)

5 Ways Resistance Kicks My Hiney

 

I’ve had a little time to catch up on some reading the past few weeks, and I’ve been thinking a lot about my processes. One habit I’m really interested in dealing with is my, er, “ability” to put things off till the last minute. Let’s just say that I would be a gold medalist if that were a sport.

The cruddy part about this, though, is that I don’t like it. I don’t like how it feels, and I don’t like that I do it. So, it’s time to face this Enemy head-on. …I mean, in a minute, after I write this.

PROCRASTINATION = RESISTANCE

I would wager that I’m one of the best ‘resisters’ ever. I’ve always chalked up my ability to procrastinate as just one of my eccentricities. However, I’m starting to look at it a little differently these days.

Steven Pressfield says the following in his book, “The War of Art”:

Tweet: Resistance will tell you anything to keep you from doing your work.Resistance will tell you anything to keep you from doing your work.

 

And I’m really starting to see that in my own life. I’m also noticing a HUGE amount of procrastinating with the things I’m most excited about doing.

“Resistance is not a peripheral opponent. Resistance arises from within. It is self-generated and self-perpetuated. Resistance is the enemy within.” –Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

Here are the Top#5 Tool that Resistance Uses on Me:

  1. Worry. If I’m not careful, Resistance will plant something in my mind to worry about, and then if I don’t worry about sRESISTANCEaid thing, Resistance will tell me I should worry that I’m not worried. And then I worry. But I may not worry about the original thing because, even though I worry, I’m still stubborn.
  2. Facebook. Yep.
  3. Shoes. I’m convinced that I don’t get nearly as much accomplished if I don’t have my shoes on. Of course, the right shoes are never where I think they are, and so search must ensue. Before you know it, I’m 15 minutes behind again.
  4. Email. Did I reply to that? Wait, where did that email go? Am I too late to reply? Should I email anyway? …you know the drill.
  5. Bernice. Bernice is my pug. I have three dogs, but Bernice is the only one that doesn’t know she’s a dog. Bernice is a little, wrinkled, loaf-shaped stinker who will do ANYTHING to keep me from working. She wins a lot. (I’m such a softie.)

You should know that just in writing this little note to you, I’ve worried about my next electric bill (it’s 7 degrees out right now), I’ve had to fight the urge to check my Facebook messages, I’m wearing big warm socks and I’m PROFOUNDLY aware that my sneakers are in my closet and NOT on my feet, I have 2 new email messages in my inbox (that I haven’t checked!), and Bernice has climbed in my lap. (Hey, I didn’t say I’ve got it figured out yet!)

So, going forward I’m paying attention to these five things, and I’m going to be more conscious of managing Resistance. I have exciting things on the books, and I want to be present for them.

Do you notice any Resistance in your life? Am I the lone weirdo here? (Wouldn’t be the first time. ha)

How to Win the Writing Game by William Jeanes

Here’s an article I think all writers will appreciate. Enjoy.

In Issue:  of The Saturday Evening Post

Many of you out there in this great land of ours have taken pen in hand to write in seeking the inside dope on how to write good. I’ve reached into my bag of tricks and come up with one sure-fire tip from the top: Avoid clichés like the plague.

A hearty hats off to the man or woman who gave us that pearl of wisdom. Those are, as sure as I’m sitting here, words for writers to live by.

Though I’m busier than a one-armed paperhanger, and I’ve got a lot on my plate, I’ll take time out of my busy day to clue you in about how clichés can ruin your whole day. Here are three good reasons you should give clichés a wide berth.

Many of you out there in this great land of ours have taken pen in hand to write in seeking the inside dope on how to write good. I’ve reached into my bag of tricks and come up with one sure-fire tip from the top: Avoid clichés like the plague.

A hearty hats off to the man or woman who gave us that pearl of wisdom. Those are, as sure as I’m sitting here, words for writers to live by.

Though I’m busier than a one-armed paperhanger, and I’ve got a lot on my plate, I’ll take time out of my busy day to clue you in about how clichés can ruin your whole day. Here are three good reasons you should give clichés a wide berth.

First, clichés suck the life out of those words you’ve been working overtime on, leaving your sentence without a leg to stand on, as it were.

Second, a cliché is old hat, pure and simple. People in all walks of life have heard them time and time again—more times than you can shake a stick at.

Third, if you were a fly on the wall, getting an earful of folks spewing clichés left and right, you’d fall all over yourself to bid a fond farewell to that wall and get the hell out of Dodge.

If you want to make your writing smooth as silk and solid as a rock, you must set yourself apart from the crowd. Put some distance between yourself and all those run-of-the-mill writers. Realize that you’re not your own worst enemy; the cliché gets that nod. You may work your fingers to the bone, but in the end, when your writing is clear as a bell and beautiful to gaze upon, trust me, you’ll be proud as a peacock.

Keep your nose to the grindstone, and before you know it you’ll find brand spanking new ways to put into words things you’ve kept bottled up in your heart of hearts for lo, these many years. Just a once-over-lightly look at your letters tells me that you’re dead serious about making something of yourself. I know as well as I know my own name that you’re willing to give cliché-avoidance the old college try. It’s as plain as the nose on your face, and you deserve a pat on the back. It’s only natural that you want more than anything in the world to make your colleagues so green with envy that they’ll scream bloody murder. Get with the program, and soon you’ll be in Fat City—sitting in the catbird seat, happy as a clam.

Taking a long, hard look at your questions tells me in words I can’t ignore that you’ll spare no effort to write paragraphs that light up the page like a Christmas tree.

So, how do you rid that Great American Novel, the one you’re burning the midnight oil over, of clichés? It’s as easy as falling off a log—just keep in mind the hoary old chestnut that says: If it walks like a duck, looks like a duck, and sounds like a duck, you can bet your bottom dollar it’s a duck. Stick to your guns, and you’ll have those clichés on the run before they know what’s hit them. Tell them not to let the door hit them on their way out. What crosses the mind of your average eagle-eyed editor when a cliché-laden manuscript lands on his desk? Dollars to doughnuts, he’ll get madder than a wet hen. Chances are, at the very least, he’ll tell the writer in no uncertain terms never to darken his door again.

Fighting the good fight against clichés can take the wind out of your sails on any given working day, but there’s no question in my mind that working like a dog to rid the world of clichés is taking the linguistic high road. When you get right down to brass tacks, the herculean task of wiping clichés—and the horse they rode in on—off the face of the earth is as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. But only if you adopt a take-no-prisoners approach to your work. Do that, and those hard-to-please editors will not only sing your praises, they will beat a path to your door.

About the Author

William Jeanes

William Jeanes is the former editor-in-chief and publisher of Car and Driver magazine.

Here is the link to the original article.

P.S. There’s a cliche’ contest on the host site. Maybe you’re up for the challenge?

I Believe in You (Story Behind the Song)

When my beautiful friend and talented writer, Susan Gregg Gilmore, sent me an advance copy of her new novel, “The Funeral Dress,” I already knew I was going to be writing a song for the book. As I mentioned in my last post, Susan and I had talked about what a cool thing it could be, and we had heard her publisher was on board to use it to promote the book.

Just write...

Just write…

 

I admit that this is a totally fun project for me as a songwriter. I’m a great supporter of novelists, and this is a neat way for me to add to (hopefully) the promotion of one. I believe in the power of music, and I definitely love that music could be used to further Susan’s work. I thought you might be interested in hearing the song, “I Believe in You,” and knowing a little about how the song came together for me. Listen to it, and then read on for some insight into my writing process.

I broke my process down into Five Basic Steps so you could follow me. (I.Need.Structure.)

1. What I Didn’t Want

First, I decided right away what I didn’t want. I figured that if I took a few things off the table at the start, then I could get a better focus. The one thing I knew right away that I didn’t want was for the song to be a slow, sad ballad. With a title like, “The Funeral Dress,” I knew I wanted to stay away from writing a funeral dirge. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) So, slow songs were out.

For the sake of melodrama, I also decided not to use a minor key. (Musicians, can I get an ‘amen?’) 

Finally, I didn’t want to write the book title, “The Funeral Dress,” as a song title. I know me, and I can’t be trusted to write that closely to another writer’s title. I inevitably would have made up my own story for the title, and then the lyric wouldn’t have served Susan’s novel.

2. What I Did Want

With #1 in mind, I took some time to think about what I DID want. Right away I wanted the lyric and music to be hopeful. I suppose it is the commercial writer in me, but I thought a lot about the reader/buyer. Again, considering the novel’s title, if I were a potential buyer, I would want to have some feeling that I wasn’t signing up for a totally gut wrenching read. (I prefer to be tricked into those.)

I wanted a musical ‘feel’ that seemed inspiring. While I hadn’t read the book yet, I wanted to go into the reading of it with some sort of ‘soundtrack’ that would lift me up. So, I played around with music till I landed on something that I made me feel positive. Okay, I guess that’s just an instinctual thing, but in the end, if I’m writing it and I like it, then it’s all good, right?

3. The Easy Part

Once I had the musical soundtrack playing in my head, I finally read the novel. (Oh yeah…THAT.)

I didn’t take notes, and I didn’t worry about finding a lyric in it. I didn’t even try to remember facts or names or anything. I just read it at my own pace and when I was finished, I took a few days to see what bubbled to the top. All along, though, I did keep the ‘soundtrack’ in mind.

4. Got Questions?

After a few days of sitting with the story, some very specific questions began to form for me. So, I spent time answering my own questions.

  • What moments kept coming back to me?
  • What characters did I want to know more about?
  • What about the observers? The people in the town who weren’t mentioned in the book, but who were watching?
  • What did I think the real story here was? Was it the same story I guessed Susan intended to write?
  • What is my personal response to that story?

5. Enough Already

Finally, I started writing. I’m not going to talk about the scenes and moments (yet) that shaped the song because it might ruin your read. However, I will tell you about the small moment in the book, the moment you may not even notice, that got the whole lyric started.

Susan describes a scene when Emmalee, a new employee, is sitting at her freshly assigned sewing machine in the factory.

“From behind Emmalee, a woman half stood over the top of her machine and introduced herself as Wilma Minton. She had full cheeks and bright pink lips and eyebrows drawn on her face. The tail of her left eyebrow was smudged, and Emmalee held her hand to her mouth, careful not to snicker.”

For whatever reason, that passing moment in the novel never left me. My mind went off into a million directions when I read that small part–wonder who Wilma Minton is at home? Do I know a ‘Wilma Minton?’ Is Wilma lonely? Is she kind? Is she a gossip?  …and before I read too many more pages in the story, I decided I was going to like Wilma till she proved me wrong. And the lines in the pre-chorus of my song, “Life can break your heart, that’s the hardest part,” are totally, 100% from my first decision about Wilma Minton.

Gang, I wrote this song based on how The Funeral Dress made me feel. The overall story and not just one character or one moment.

It’s not a song for Emmalee or Kelley Faye, nor is it a song for Leona or Wilma or Easter, or any of the characters. Rather, it’s a song for all of them.

And, I suppose if I’m being honest, it’s a song for each of us who needs our own community, however disjointed or flawed or unlikely a community it is, to hold us up, too.

The Funeral Dress is available at your local bookstore, or on Amazon.com. I hope you’ll join me in supporting a fellow writer. Also, please share this post with your particular online universe–facebook, twitter, youtube, etc. However you communicate with the outside, let’s be the people who talk about art.

 

The Funeral Dress

One habit I developed a long time ago is that I write a song for nearly every book I read. I love to read, but I always used to feel guilty if I were reading and not working on a new song. (I’m so good at guilt.)FuneralDress

I remember the day I was telling my dear friend and fellow songwriter, Joel Lindsey, about it.  He said, “Belinda, it’s research. Read as much as you want because you get ideas from books.” We were at South Street Grille here in Nashville, and every time I go there I think about our conversation. I came up with the Novel Theme Song Plan out on that patio.

Fast forward many years, and many Novel Theme Songs, to summer 2013. I was invited to be on staff at the Appalachian Young Writers’ Workshop at Lincoln Memorial University, and when the director told me that Susan Gregg Gilmore would be the fiction teacher, I was stoked. I had read her first book, “Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen,” and loved it. Besides, I’m always fascinated with novelists; how on Earth does anyone concentrate on one thing for so long?

After a week of living in dorm rooms again, eating cafeteria food and surviving middle-of-the-night tornado warnings, Susan is officially one of my favorite humans.

 

The Cool Part

Here’s a very, very truncated version of one of our conversations:

Me: So do you have a new novel in the works? (I know writers hate this question. I asked anyway.)

Susan: Yes, it’s actually coming out in September. I’m really excited about it.

Me: Awesome. What’s it called?

Susan: The Funeral Dress.

Me: There’s song in that title.

Susan: Oh, it would be so cool if you wrote a song for the book!

Me: I’ll totally write a song for the book. (Thinking: She doesn’t know that I’m not allowed to read it if I don’t.)

And then a week later, Susan leaves me the following voice mail:
“Hey, I talked to Random House about your writing the song. They LOVE the idea! Call me.”

WHAT?

WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE?

Gang, the Novel Theme Song has finally come into its own. And, honestly, I couldn’t be more proud of Susan and her novel. It’s so much fun for me to be able to add in even a small way to the release of, “The Funeral Dress.”

Today, I’m inviting you to check out your local bookstore (always support them first) or click here to order your copy.

And then you should write your own Novel Theme Song. You never know what could happen.

Here’s to supporting a fellow writer!

 

The Power of a Bad Song

 

I was just telling a co-writer the other day about how I’ve written some stinkers over the years. I always get a kick out of running across an old not-at-all-awesome lyric. I’ll come across a piece of paper with one of my furious scribbles, and the first thing that pops into my mind is, “What were you thinking? That’s terrible!”

Such is the case with a song I started when I was seventeen which I had to record recently.

I was a sophomore in college, and I was pledging a sorority. (I know. You don’t see it, do you? I am an Alpha Gamma Delta. It’s totally true.)

Our pledge class was told that we needed a class song. I was pledging with my high school friend, Kristin, and she and I decided to take the song I’d written for our high school graduation and change it to make it fit for the pledge class. (I found out later that they hadn’t meant we had to write a full-on song. They’d meant for us to make up lyrics to a popular song. Oops.)

The song was called, “When I Say Friend.” The hook is, “When I say friend, I’ll always think of you.” I’m not even going to go into all the parts that I wouldn’t write now (teardrop? Gheesh.) For your viewing pleasure, here is a picture the lyric I wrote all those years ago:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I got an email from an Alpha Gam a few weeks ago asking me for a recording of this song. “When I Say Friend,” has been passed down from year to year, and my chapter is still singing it. They wanted a recording because a music therapist from hospice wanted to play comforting songs to a young woman, Toni, who was dying of breast cancer.

“When I Say Friend,” was one of the songs they asked for.

Toni was younger than I and we never met. I knew her name, and I knew she had been fighting breast cancer for years. I also knew that her husband died unexpectedly last September leaving her with the two boys.

I sat down at my piano that day to record, “When I Say Friend,” and the professional writer in me kept getting embarrassed at the lyric. Then, I would think of Toni dealing with the betrayal of her body and the weight of leaving her boys, and I sang. I remembered the spirit in which I wrote that little song all those years ago.

At seventeen when this song was started for my high school graduation, I was making a promise to my friends. Truth is, it was the best promise I knew how to make at that age.

As it turns out, with all it’s imperfections and naievete, it’s still about the best promise I know how to make to my friends today. I’d write it differently, but I’d still mean it.

Toni Gusic Saylor was diagnosed with breast cancer on September 19, 2003. She died at the age of 37 on September 11, 2012. 

Songwriters, write your songs with the passion of where you are in your experience. Write what you know exactly as you know it. Write your truth. Be excellent.

Songs have a way of finding their place. Even the bad ones.

RIP, Toni.