Sometimes the songs drip out slowly, like icicles melting, and I have to carefully place each drop where it fits the best.
Sometimes the words and music just flow together, inspired by a feeling, a thought, a soapbox moment (yes, I have quite a few of those!), an experience, or even a rhythm, musical riff, or a certain keyboard instrument I came across.
Sometimes it takes months or even years to finish a song, because I don’t know the whole story when I begin writing it, and won’t until the whole story happens, no matter how long it takes.
Sometimes I have to get very quiet, and if I stay there long enough I find a melody starts to grow, almost note by note, like a little flame in the dark.
Sometimes I wake up with just a piece of a melody, and I build on it little by little and eventually fit words to it.
Sometimes I have to dig deep, to a place it hurts, and allow myself to be extremely open and vulnerable, and the music comes out like a salve.
And sometimes, like today, it’s like witnessing the most exhilarating lightening storm EVER, and all I have to do is touch it (mostly by accident) and suddenly it’s all I can do to hold on tightly while it explodes, and I’m awash in notes and lights and colors all swirling through me and out from my piano and into my living room.
-- Ok, so I’m sure from the outside of my crazy head it comes across a WHOLE lot tamer than that...
So often I have wished I could be an even-keeled person and not ride emotional waves as much as I do. But for some reason it’s difficult for me to write songs unless I’m feeling something deeply. So over the years I have come to accept that since that’s how the music happens for me, riding a few waves is a price I’m willing to pay. And as long as I don’t take my precious family on all those waves with me, I say --
Bring ‘em on!