Why do frogs sing?
I am sure some people wonder why I bother spending time writing books and songs. I sometimes worry that friends and acquaintances think my writing activities are egoistic. It’s possible that some think I am a pretentious poser, or that I am a bad writer, a bad singer, or a poor musician, and don’t understand why I bother. One has to start someplace, and typically, one doesn’t start at the top. And, besides, frogs sing because they have to.
I write because I like telling stories, and love the process of piecing things together. My two favorite idioms are opposites—song and novel—short and long form. Each of these forms comes with its challenges. The challenge with the long form is how to keep readers engaged, maintaining continuity, and keeping track of all of the characters and events. The challenge of the short form is to tell a complete and satisfying story in few words that lasts between three and four minutes, and also pleases the ear (most of the time). The joy lies in the process. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want an appreciative audience. That brings its own satisfaction, but it isn’t my goal. I love exploring words, thoughts and ideas at my leisure without too much regard for what other people might think about them.
Songwriting as Truth-Telling
I participate in Matt Meighan’s songwriting workshops, something I began at the onset of the pandemic, and have continued to do. He calls his class “Songwriting as Truth-Telling.” I don’t know how many of his classes I have participated in to this point, but quite a few. To date, I have written more than seventy songs, most of them as part of Matt’s workshop. The only daylight most of my songs ever see is in that context. Some songs are better than others, but they are all worthwhile, and that is the truth.
During the pandemic, and while taking care of my mother who was dying, songwriting, music and fiction writing were my refuge. Many of the songs I wrote were about my mother, some inspired by things she said in delirium, some inspired by her lived life, and then later, her death. Those were not happy times, but Matt’s workshop gave me an outlet for dealing with the difficulties in my life.
In today’s post, I want to tell you more about how Matt’s classes work, because being a part of them has brought so much joy to my life, and I feel like there are lessons in it to be gleaned by anybody who has ever been on the giving or receiving end of criticism.
Each workshop lasts four to six weeks, virtual or in-person depending on the season, and also on the songwriters geographic locations. Every week eight to ten songwriters—a mix of first timers and highly experienced—get together to share something they have written, a song, a poem, an idea for a song, whatever they are able to bring on that day. Matt suggests prompts every week, but no one is required to adhere to the prompt. Many people never use it. I am embarrassed to say that I usually do, as I love the surprises that emerge, and frankly I don’t always have a song waiting in the wings.
You can’t teach a frog to sing if you step on it
Matt doesn’t offer direct instruction or song critique, in fact, critique is prohibited. Each person sings or reads in turn. We don’t spend a lot of time discussing form or the specifics of “how to” write a song. That isn’t the goal. The goal is to listen to other people’s songs closely—to hear the words, story, word choices, voices, melody, and the chord progression . There are rules. Listen. Hear. Be generous. Kind. At first, I was disappointed that Matt or my fellow workshop participants were not offering up suggestions about how to make my songs better, but in time my perspective changed.
Initially, I wanted to learn more about structure, and different song forms, so I signed up for a Berkeley class. I got what I needed out of it—it had great course material, not such good human interaction. People were not kind. I didn’t want to put my songs “out there” so that some snotty twenty-something year-old could take a dump on me. And, after several times of attending “Songwriting as Truth-Telling,” I began to understand that the positive responses to specific aspects of my, and other people’s songs, were the lessons. Turns out a one-word, one-chord song can be a good song, even when a frog is singing it—especially then.
An old frog sings
In case any of you are interested in hearing an old frog perform a few thus-far unperformed songs, I will be singing several at the open mic at Threshold Brewing and Blending, located at SE 79th and Stark on the 27th of July. It starts at 6 and ends at 9. We are looking for a few more songwriters to perform. Reach out to me if you are interested, and I will get you on the list. The slots are 10 to 15 minutes each—so 2-3 songs.
Stay tuned for my next post that will focus on the long-form writing I do! In the meantime, if you haven’t read my first novel, Butterfly Dreams, or ordered my second novel, Margaux and the Vicious Circle, now is an excellent opportunity to do so. While you are at it, check out some of the other great books in the Aristata Press Bookstore!
I am looking for early reviews of Margaux and the Vicious Circle. Reach out to me personally if you would like a free copy of the ePub to read. I will send you a download link.
