Writing Workshop

In an interview about music criticism, Elvis Costello said, ‘Writing about music is
like dancing about architecture. It’s a really stupid thing to want to do.’

Though the man was right in one sense he was also way off beam in others, especially
singer-songwriters, if the number of books still coming out on Dylan, Hendrix,
Jim Morrison, The Beatles and many others are anything to go by.

Nearly two years ago, in preparation for the task of writing my book, I signed up for some writing workshops. At the time I’d written maybe half a chapter and had little more than a sketchy plan of the rest. However, I did have an overall concept which was that the book would focus on songwriters and each chapter take the lyrics of a song as its inspiration (an idea I’d had for many years). The book would also be accompanied by a CD of the material used. My reasoning was that most songs have a history; the composer’s, the artist’s and musician’s,
the recording company’s, etc, who’ve either sung or listened to them, or been affected in some other way. Hence the book’s subtitle, ‘Song Tales’. I knew I had many personal experiences worth telling, especially from my youth trailing around the pubs, clubs and coffee bars in pursuit of gigs, but also wanted to weave these into a wider narrative – maybe even make the book semi-fictional. I also hoped to include some factual information, maybe as footnotes, and later as audio-visual material on an ebook version or website. High hopes indeed – but could I pull it off?

I brought my first few pages along to the workshop, feeling quite nervous even though everyone was very friendly and supportive. Part of this apprehension was due to the fact that for over thirty years the main recipients of my songs, stories and plays had been school kids. It was a long time since I’d had to face an adult audience, though was recently singing in folk clubs again, and found even a few polite adults far more intimidating than a hall full of noisy children.

There was also another concern; my story did not fit into any conventional genre (crime, romance, fantasy, etc) and alsobincluded quite a few expletives. Though I personally dislike swearing, it’s obvious that for narrative reality one must include it. Previously I had written children’s novels where, not wanting to alienate publishers, I’d avoided them or used softer alternatives (though in real life many children use far worse language than adults). But a grown-up novel set in modern times, especially with musicians as the main protagonists, that did not include
swearing was unthinkable. However, I felt tense reading my piece out, especially as most of the other writers were quite a middle-aged lot employing much gentler language and subject matter. One elderly man read a moving article he’d written about his very personal spiritual experiences and, as he did so, I felt embarrassed on everyone’s behalf at my relative crudity.

Nevertheless, I got a lot from the workshops (though don’t ask me to be specific), and returned home with renewed energy, finishing the final edit earlier this year. But now comes the hard part – promoting it. As an old music publisher friend once said to me, ‘Artists think they’re the creative ones, but the real creativity comes in flogging the damn stuff.’

USA 2010

Here are some lyrics to a song I wrote many years ago and only sang in public very occasionally – and now never – but which still resonate with me.

words – they can mean everything

or nothing but a sound someone might make

overheard – a single word – can bring you down

or take you higher than a bird

words – they’re so meaningless at times they’re only words

foolish words – empty words

do you remember darling what you told me long ago

how much you really loved me but now at last I know

you were only saying what you thought I wanted to hear and I believed all your…

words – they can mean everything… etc

Anyone who deals in words for a living must at some point wonder what they all really mean – how inadequate they often are, especially to translate feelings. Maybe the reason love is the predominant subject for songwriters (apart from its universality) is that music has the power to convey deep emotions and can change the most banal lyrics into something powerful and full of meaning.

Finding the right word is important however, and the wrong one can certainly jar. Last year, singing at the Rocky Road Tavern in Okemah, USA, whilst attending the Woody Guthrie Folk Festival, I sang my song ‘Risk of Explosion’ which includes some lines lifted from Woody’s song ’Lonesome Valley’ (which he lifted from numerous other songs). After coming offstage I was chatting to another performer who said it was obvious I was not American because I’d used the word ‘trepidation’ at one point. I don’t know if he was right or not but, for me, the word felt
right.

life’s a risky business – of that there is no doubt

but don’t let fear and trepidation make you take an easy way out

And, in the last verse, almost as an afterthought:

Iknow talking is so easy and words are cheap as dirt

But don’t forget my darling – words can heal as well as hurt

Now that I think about there is a theme here which runs through many of my songs: paradox. The co-existence in life of opposite truths, feelings, beliefs, etc, and how we somehow manage (or don’t) to reconcile these. Teenagers, so we are told, often have difficulty accepting different views and tend to see the world in rather black and white terms, but I think we all do. For love to work, for example, it often means accepting many differences – of being tolerant, understanding and unselfish – not easy to put into practice. Especially as love can also be the opposite of these – single-minded, selfish and passionate – especially in its early stages. Love songs can put words and tunes to difficult emotions – feelings that may have no rhyme or reason – but they can also seem hopelessly inadequate.

Maybe, as I began to realise during difficult times in my thirties, a sign of being ‘grown up’ is the ability to ‘grow out’ – to see the world through other’s eyes. Also, that many different people inhabit each of our bodies, and words can change meaning and relevance accordingly. Although most of us respond to a beautiful or humorous line, we also know the very same words could be twisted around by circumstances or a malignant mouth. Unfortunately, words will always be inadequate, but they’re all we have (though actions speak louder). As the Bee
Gees (‘Words’, 1968) say:

Talk in everlasting words
And dedicate them all to me
And I will give you all my life
I’m here if you should call to me
You think that I don’t even mean
A single word I say
It’s only words, and words are all
I have to take your heart away

Best Music?

Accordingto www.goodreads.com The Rough Guide to the Best Music You’ve Never Heard is:

‘…a winning collection of amazing stories of tragic mavericks and unlucky contenders, with hundreds of lost classics and hidden gems. The guide traces the musicians that fell by the wayside from the bands that could have been The Beatles to the acts that were better than the acts that made it.’

I only recently discovered this book (published Oct. 2008) but had I known of it when writing The Singer-Songwriter’s Last Stand it would certainly have been a major source of inspiration. Each artist (around 200 are documented) is given a potted biography and the stories touched on range from tragedy to comedy, often suggesting far greater drama than space allows. The book is therefore just a
starting point, with YouTube and Google, etc, invaluable tools to unearthing all sorts of musical gems. The most fascinating thing for me as a writer is the amazing journeys many musicians take in order to pursue their dreams – often a lot more interesting than the music itself in fact.

One major question the book provokes is, ‘what makes some artists successful and others not, especially when they are patently less talented?’ There is no simple answer of course but ‘right face, right place, right time’ is obviously one. Good management helps enormously. Sheer persistence never goes amiss and, of course, luck usually plays a big part. Personally I have no answers, but wondering what might have happened (to myself and others) is intriguing and also forms the basis of my fiction. Hopefully, my next book (as yet not written) will delve deeper than previously, much of which was autobiographical.