One of the funny things about creative work is that the idea in the head can often run counter to plans. That’s why plans are so wonderful. They provide a direction in the event that the next step isn’t clear. But that doesn’t mean that a plan is The Plan. The last two weeks have been a painful reminder of this fact.
In my head when I’m moving through my day, there’s a bit of music that repeats itself. It’s something highly processed. Very soft and amorphous. More of a texture than a melody or harmony. It sits just at the edge of my hearing. It’s very attractive. I’m more and more moved by it.
But that’s not what I’m doing in the studio.
When I go into the sanctuary that is my studio, I get distracted. I pick up a guitar, recently it’s the one I made as it’s more and more my only instrument, and strum. Or pick. Or just noodle a bit. The next thing I know, the framework of a more traditional song structure produces itself. In fact, this has happened probably 8 times in the last two weeks. Good ideas are flowing from the stream that I’m not as excited about. Or so it would seem. But I’m not one to buck the muse. When things are working, they’re working and that’s so much better than when everything goes dead silent.
So the notebook is filling itself with chord progressions and snippets of melody. Alternate tunings. My own brand of notation. The pages become overrun with ink and I hurry to record a stable version for future reference. All is well. When this storm dries up, I can go back and rework some things. I’ll have a bed of material to get things moving again and new inspiration will strike. And eventually I’ll get to write the piece that’s sitting just out of sight.
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