One of my favourite things to say and, without sounding like the cliché I am not, live by, is this: Art inspires art. This goes for hearing a song and wanting to write good songs, or reading a book and wanting to write good books, or looking at a Monet and wanting to paint good paintings. Or seeing a painting and wanting to write a song. Et cetera and so on.
I have not been happy with the way I'm writing lately. Not necessarily the quality, but the speed and, shall I say, ease. There are many theories I have as to why, but I won't bore you with them here. It's just becoming increasingly harder and harder for me to sit down and write 10,000 words in a day. How dare my muse do this to me? (Tongue in cheek, folks...)
I often encounter artists whose work I listen to, read, or see, and think to myself, "I want to be as good at anything as he is at his craft." (Some examples: Just about any musician ever mentioned on this blog, John Green, Lawrence Hill, the guy who does chalk drawings on the sidewalk in downtown Ottawa.)
Think about it: If I was as good at writing words as John Mayer is at writing songs, I'd be a millionaire by now. Clearly it doesn't work like that. (Neither does wishful thinking, but I digress.)
I wanted background music to write to, simply because the silence was irritating me. I grabbed my headphones (honestly, if I'm going to listen to music, I want to hear it) and set myTunes to shuffle, figuring since I had no set mood, no desire to hear any specific song or artist, I'd just leave it up to my computer to decide.
Sometimes my computer makes good choices.
A song by one of, in my opinion, the best voices in country music came on about five songs in. The song is just vocal and piano, and it's about choosing a woman (and a life, really) over alcohol. The artist is Joe Nichols and the song is An Old Friend Of Mine. The song is brilliant, especially when you consider that Nichols actually did battle addiction.
Anyway, his voice.
You can't teach talent. You can't. You can shape it, hone it, build on potential. You cannot teach talent. Someone can either sing or they can't. Someone has natural artistic talent or they do not.
Joe Nichols' voice is a gift. From whom or where, I have no idea, but that doesn't really matter. Somehow, he drew the card to have a voice that sounds like that. Clear, clean, emotive. I'd almost say effortless.
This is how I feel about my writing. It's the one thing I do that comes naturally. Of course it takes thought and work, and like any other art form, there is a certain amount of evolution involved in the entire process, piece by piece as well as over an entire body of work. My ability to write is my gift.
So who's to say I won't eventually be as good at writing as Mayer is at lyrical turns of phrase? I'm not deluded enough to think that's even entirely possible, let alone for me, but why rule it out? Why think negatively and accept a reality which may not even be true, that having a talent that a lot of other people have for the same thing may mean I can't excel at it?
I honestly don't even know what I'm trying to get at here. I just had this really weird realization that writing less might mean writing better, and that maybe that whole evolution of the process thing is forcing me to take a step back and ask 'why?' A lot of whys.
Somehow that all ties into music, as just about everything does for me. I hope you can find a point here, because I really did, and now I'm going to try and make sense of that.
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joe nichols,
john mayer,
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