Words and More Words

Dearest Readers,
Sometimes I feel like writing a song - a good song, not just some chintzy, slapped-together, cliche-ridden tangle of words - is like birthing a child. Or what I imagine birthing a child would be like. Songs grow inside me. They don't flow like a fountain from me. I don't have that gift that my emotions and thoughts can come out expressly in poignant phrases. They have to develop, to become rich and deep. It's like making a reduction in cooking - you have to boil down all the excess thoughts and emotions so that whatever isn't necessary is burned out, leaving you with the powerful, tangy teaspoon of a thought. And that takes time for me.

I think its because in my heart, deep down to the core of my being, I am a fiction writer. And fiction writers, bless their hearts, write. A lot. I am not a woman of few words. In fact, I tend in the opposite. I can talk a lot, I can write a lot, and there are never enough words to express my true feelings.

I also have the problem of falling into the snare of cliches. When you try to write a song, especially a song to or about God, it's so easy to throw in an "amazing grace," "rain/flood/fountain of love," or even a "hallelujah, amen!" I want so badly for my words to be alive, dividing so precisely between joint and marrow so that they leave no room for underdone, overplayed phrases. I want my words to be fresh, not flowery. But it's hard - I love flowers. I love love. I love God - but I don't want to sing it like that.

But the good thing, dearest readers, is that I'm pregnant again (!) with a new song. I can feel it. It's like an itch that you can't scratch, a thought that has barely escaped your memory, a dream that you just can't quite remember. I have no idea what the words are, nor what the melody is, but I can feel it swelling inside me, getting ready to be birthed one day from the mind to the page. And that's something to get excited about!