shape

Rehearsals, rehearsals. The band has another concert date on the horizon (November 5th!) and so we are hard at work bringing the music together. This time is an even bigger musical variety than last time, and Uberguitarist has once again pulled seemingly disparate elements like Grieg and the Beatles together into what will be a fun music lineup.

 'Blank Page' will debut there, too. My new song born out of a friend telling me to be creative by starting with a blank page. I think I took it more figuratively than she meant, but hey, I'll take the inspiration I can get.

The process of taking a song from the bare words and chords and getting it performance-ready is like going from a blueprint to an actual building. The page gives the outline, the craft and execution makes it real and multi-dimensional. We worked through it last week to get the band familiar, but I still have ideas and fine-tuning that will make it be what I want. Ideas that make sense in my head don't always sound quite right when I actually hear them, and hearing something gives new ideas. It's a very organic process as it grows, changes, and adapts to itself.

It's been good to discipline myself to finish the songs that have been floating around, half-done. As I've encouraged our girls to bring their short stories to completion, I'm reminded that while I don't write stories, these song fragments are my equivalent. Giving them shape and structure lets them finally get out of my head. And really, there's enough clutter in there already...

inspiration is a funny animal

Writing is a funny thing. And I don't speak here of those who craft plots, who create characters who draw us into their lives, their struggles, failures and triumphs. I am a pathetic failure at trying to do that. I am eternally grateful to those who do; to live among their pages for a moment is a rare and precious gift. Then again, maybe writing is funny to them too, but I just don't know about it.

I'm talking about the kind of writing I do.

For me, in my limited experience, some comes immediately, and some comes slowly and carefully. It reminds me of cooking sometimes, a thought I've already visited. Today, just now in fact, was a strawberries-and-balsamic moment (this will make sense upon reading that link). A lyric has been flirting with my mind lately, teasing it and jumping around just out of reach. I finally caught a couple lines of it yesterday, so sat down to type it tonight.

I wrote a complete song having nothing at all to do with that lyric. Not a bit. Not even stealing the concept and re-applying it. A complete new song sprang out of nothing more than a thought I had while I was hanging a shirt on the clothesline this morning (really, doesn't inspiration strike at the most mundane moments, sometimes?).

It's new, it's darker than some of mine. It's not an emotion I live with but one I visit from time to time. A complete song. Well, a lyric. Musically? I have no idea except to tell D "heavy, and minor."

And of course, the other lyric went skipping happily away, having eluded me for another day. I can hear it giggling.

blank page

I sat down to write and nothing came. So I played. Moving through chord structures, trying new combinations. Playing in C# major, something I'd always feared as a pianist and realizing it's not so tough after all.

But no words. Nothing.

A text came from Seren: put a blank page in front of you.

A blank page. It stared at me; the inspiration came. Realizing that, like the page, each day is blank and waits to be filled. Interactions start as blank pages, waiting for the dialogue to be written.

One line at a time, one minute at a time. Life comes in fragments that we build on, chain together, and make:
- a relationship.
- a day.
- a mistake.
- a victory.
- a life.

We unite the good moments with the bad, the brilliant flashes with the awkward stumbles, the clever insights with the foolish blundering: each of us has these moments. How will I put mine together?

There's a song there, and it's taking shape.

point

Everything on every front seems to be coming down to one point, when we leave tomorrow.

The second batch of chicks made their one-way trip yesterday and we now have fifteen more roasters in the freezer. The coop needs to be cleaned today, the grass cut, the laundry done, the fridge cleaned. That's farm.

The display board came together yesterday (a backdrop for my CD table, mostly aesthetic but I like it), we had our last band rehearsal last night and planned the gear transport. Set lists are planned with the usual margin for last-minute changes on the fly. Tonight I meet with the guys who will be leading on one Sunday to go over material I set up yesterday, and make sure that's covered. Need to print charts, lineups. That's music.

A second interview today, either live or being taped. Got the call for that yesterday. And here I thought I could stop thinking. That's promo (and yes, very cool and kinda fun).

Packing. That would help. House watchers arranged, kennel booked.

I'm excited to return to our old stomping grounds, share more Maritime memories with the kids, see family and friends. It will be a very different trip east, concerts and all, but it's exciting.

interview

I heard something today for the first time. And yes, I got emotional.

My song on the radio.

An interview, recorded on Friday over the phone, was played and through the course of it, four of my songs. I got to talk about my background, my songwriting, even this little blog. Many thanks to KC and the guys who took my scary rural phone and worked their techie magic on it.

I sounded ok. No, I sounded interesting. If I met that person, I do think I'd like her. I guess that's a good thing.

They finished the interview by playing 'We Hold On'. He'd have been 25 on Saturday. I wish, for the umpteenth time, I could have shared moments like these with him. Any moments, but these would have a little extra glee shared with him.

appreciate

We had a great rehearsal with the band last night, these intrepid (crazy?) folks who are willing to join me on my trip out east for a few concerts. Two hours of singing later, and I was kinda tired.

I love these guys (and those of the Sequoia music gang who can't head to the coast with us) for more reasons than I can say.

They put up with me. We laugh about silly things mid-song. Egos aren't on the line. We share a common purpose and goal, to worship God through music and to share the joy that brings us with others. They are willing to drive to the east coast on their own dime to support my three concerts. They are amazingly talented, amazingly humble, deeply caring and wonderfully fun. They are themselves, they are friends. They share their musicality in a way that makes the whole unit more than the sum of the parts. Synergy is a wonderful thing.

I have a radio interview being taped on Friday morning (eek!), the events are being promo'ed out east, and we leave the following week. I'm excited!

Concert details are on my site, or you can go to myspace, facebook, ilike... aah, the joys of social media.

eight

Eight syllables are eluding me.

The song 'Hope' (wanting a better title, not finding one) is done but for eight syllables. I played it for D and realized from his reaction that two little lines in the first verse took the song in a direction I'd not intended.

Ah, the joy/curse of writing something, when your head space is right there. Then someone else hears it and without the context of your head space, it doesn't work. While this can be good - one song having different meanings for different people can be one of those surreal places where the stars line up and all is lovely - it can also lessen the song's strength if the listener sits there, stuck on "huh?"

For the record: but for that, D loved the song.

So now, I repeat lines in my head, trying to find those eight little sounds that will make it complete. If it were prose, I could take my time and set the stage, set the context so that we start from the same place. But it being lyrics, I am tied to a constraints of rhythm and line length that I have set for myself.

da da daa da da da-da da.

How hard can it be?

Hmm ... very.

simple

'Tis the season where work abounds, but simple pleasures are there to be found.

The chicks are growing nicely and the hens spend their days foraging outside, having found a new hangout at the back of the summer kitchen but sometimes making me laugh as they sprint across the lawn. Why they decide to, I often have no idea. But a running chicken looks pretty funny. The cows haven't arrived yet for the summer but I expect them soon.

The sun rises to birdsong in the morning, and I'm getting up early enough consistently to see it, and take a brisk walk to enjoy it up close and personal. Everything is getting greener by the day. We are busy with gardens, and spring cleaning, and mowing, and planning fixups - but the breeze is sweet and the sun is warm.

I believe I finished another song yesterday. It's got that complete feeling to it with the balance of music and lyrics now; I wrote the lyrics after seeing a video about autism, with interviews with parents talking about the struggles that can be faced with raising these precious children. It was sent to me by sis-in-law JG, whose son is autistic and such a sweet, sweet little boy. I hope the lyric is ... well, right.

I've been writing a few lately that have been an interesting twist for me: writing what I think of as "third-party" lyrics. My writing has always been from my point of view, many of the songs from very personal experiences. And yet I've had a few lyrics through my mind lately that have me standing in someone else's shoes. I'm tossing around the thought in my mind, ruminating on it (moo) as to whether it's having a chance to speak thoughts that someone else wants said, but can't put to words, or whether I'm just posing as something I'm not.

"Poets do not need to go to Niagara to write about the force of falling water" - Robert Frost

It bears thinking.

gotcha

One song fragment was a little slower to run than the rest. Or perhaps, more persistent. I got the first inklings of it yesterday morning and started typing, cutting, pasting, editing. A full song took shape and was printed off.

To the piano I went, to start finding chords and seeing if the melody that had flitted through my mind with the words worked. Some words were scratched out to suit the beat of the song. More chords added, arrows drawn to move sections around. A bridge riff jotted in. A tempo determined, changed, fixed upon.

Played it in fits and starts through the day until the feel was right. Played it at band rehearsal last night and have some guitar pieces to add to it now.

And 'Knock' will make its debut on Sunday morning.

fragments

My mind seems to erupt lately with bursts of ideas for songs. I get fragments of lyric, of melody, but when I try to catch them and pin them down they laugh tantalizingly, wriggle out of my grasp, and slip away. I'm left holding the memory of something that sounded pretty cool.

But I've typed them down, in hopes that the muse will revisit (after all, she may just have been passing through on her way to another destination and will stop in on her way home) and the fragments will become something bigger.

Meanwhile life on the farm continues to give me perspective. I spent hours yesterday spring-cleaning the chicken coop, removing manure and old shavings, putting fresh shavings in, putting away the heaters that we needed over the winter. One hen who'd been fading did indeed have her last moments yesterday, despite the girls' hopes of nursing her back to health.

And this morning I wrote what looks like a complete song in one sitting. Wow! Been a while since that happened. We'll see if it works into a song or was just me being delusional.

schedule

You can't schedule creativity. At least, I can't. I can plan times when I want to put things together, make myself sit at the piano and figure out good chord progressions and melodies; I can stare at the page and try different phrases. Sometimes that works, and it is a good exercise in writing and composing. I find, though, that for me it often comes of its own volition and then not when I've expected it.

Last night after I dropped the kids off at choir and I was driving home, I got smacked with a new song idea. And I liked it. I kept repeating it, getting more excited about it as I came down the driveway. I muttered line possibilities to myself while I closed up the chickens for the night as they rolled their eyes and clucked "there she goes again...". This morning, I added a few more lines, changed some. I revisited the idea to make sure I still liked it, and I did.

And it's a secret. For now.

ouch

"Being an artist is painfully hard." (Seren)

I read a quote once that talked about how artists tend to be more sensitive by nature. That's how we see things that we then express to others. We must feel deeply so that we can take others there. It's how pictures and phrases appear in art that a lot of people might not have thought of themselves, yet when they see it or hear it they see a piece of them and their life in it. The "aah" moment happens and we connect. It can be good, and as Seren says, it can also hurt.

As I wrote and put this project together, I started to see myself as a bit of an artist. I could relate to the investment of body, spirit, emotion that exhausts and exhilarates. The desire to find a way to put to words thoughts that always seem to flit about, just out of reach. The excitement of hearing audibly what had only existed in the imagination.

There's a lot of me in The View From Here. It sounds cliche, but I did put heart and soul into it. And I'm really, really happy with it. I grew as a musician and as a person through the process. The little dream got nurtured and I felt what it was to soar. I wanted to make something that would make God smile at His little girl's efforts, and I truly think I did.

So when the local radio station said they won't be playing it, it hurt. A lot. Not to say they weren't very nice about it, the email was very friendly. And I know not everyone will like my sound or my style, or maybe the mix. I don't like every song I hear on the radio. And of course it's their decision.

But, ouch.

It's humbling. And being humble is good, I know. I will learn, I will keep on.

There are other stations. Maybe some of them will like it. I'm gun-shy now, though, and the little voice that says "you really aren't good enough" that I thought had finally shut up is fairly screaming now. It's a little conflicting, my mind running the gamut from dejected, to annoyed, to wanting to learn, to depressed, to apathetic, to frustrated, to trying to see some good from it, to trying to understand, to hopeful for other options, and back to dejected.

But I need to remember why I made this CD, why I wrote the songs. Is my Father smiling?

Head down, keep trudging. I'll get to the view from the top of the mountain yet.

normal again

Friday night was, in a word (and yes, I'm biased here), beyond.

Friends and family came out to celebrate and they had a great time.

The band, after all their hard work, played an amazing set

and kept saying how happy they were to be a part of it when I kept thanking them for everything they'd done.

I expected nerves and never really got them. This was a

huge surprise because of all the evening meant to me and the fact that for a good number of the songs I was out front, mic in hand. Now typically this is not where I like to sing. I like to be behind my piano. Being out from has a level of exposure that brings on the jitters. And talking? that just doubles it. So I expected to be battling all of this while trying to remember all the vocal coaching from Maria, all the styling notes from Tim, all I had put into the CD, all that was behind it. In short, I expected a major struggle.

It didn't happen. I was comfortable, at ease. I talked without going in circles and said what I wanted to say without my voice getting that trembly sound that I hate because it screams "nervous!!". I didn't mind being out front at all. I hit the notes with the right sound. I played vocally at the end of 'Imagine' and loved it. The one tech glitch (monitor feed disappearing courtesy of a cord turning the volume way down) didn't negatively affect what I was putting out and was fixed after one song.

After the show people were everywhere, I got bouquets of flowers and was signing CDs while getting to celebrate with everyone (and thanks to Seren, I even had my beef carpaccio at the end of the evening!) and enjoy the mounds of amazing food that B and S had put together.

Wow.

It was more, it was better than I imagined it would be.

It was beyond.

So now I'm back to normal, right?

Oh, wait. CDs to Salem Storehouse today, revamping website, figuring out ordering online and iTunes, planning further contacts ... maybe not.

sidenote

One thing I will always remember about this weekend: D taking my face in his hands, looking me in the eye, and saying, "you are an amazing woman." Aaah.

today

In some ways it all comes down to today.

Doesn't it always? The choices we make, the seeking for the right way to go and the right thing to do, can't rest on yesterday or worry about tomorrow. Today is what we have.

The journey started over a year ago (ten years ago, if you count the actual songwriting) and today all the logistics, all the effort, all the creativity and ideas and worry and elation and exhaustion and insanity - it all comes down to this. All those analogies of making a CD being like having a baby kept coming to mind as we planned and dreamed and wondered what the final product would be like.

The setup last night and runthrough were amazing. It sounded good, I felt comfortable singing and delivering the material. Granted, it was an audience of three people. The butterflies may arrive en masse tonight, knocking me over with their fluttery wings. The band sounds so good and vocally I was still trying things out, but I had a confidence in it that is surprising me a little. I was finding an ease and freedom as I sang.

The tech guys - D, GM, and Tim - had set everything up and sound checks went well. Having Tim on hand was awesome and his input, both for sound and for my own performance, was invaluable.

I got to sample some of the food yesterday for the after party and WOW, B and S have outdone themselves and I know I have yet to see the whole thing. I did a minuscule bit of helping at B's house, but it was not nearly enough to qualify even as a catering peon and just enough to get a tiny glimpse at all the work that has been going on in that kitchen.

Now all I need is for the CDs to arrive, safe and sound and delightfully on time, so that we'll have those available.

I feel good.

I feel ready.

Baby, it's time to get you out there.

ready. i think.

We're prepped for Friday night. The band is ready. The sound guys are all over the tech end of things. I've almost finished the media. The food sounds amazing and I'm looking forward to eating it. The CDs should be done and ready for sale, after I pick them up on Friday. Family starts arriving tonight for a weekend that starts with celebrating my music and ends with celebrating Mom's 70th birthday.

I think I'm ready. I guess we'll see.

almost real

I have used the word "surreal" time and time again through this process. But in talking to a friend online the other day and describing what listening to the final mixes sounded like, I used the word "real" for the first time. It's starting to feel real.

We had a listening party last Saturday night. Me, D, Uberguitarist, Greggo, and the Little Chicago guys sat and listened to the CD from start to finish, taking notes and discussing changes. There were no major hiccups except for some worry on my part when I whispered to D, "so, what do you think?" and he answered, "we'll talk later". Uh oh.

Turns out, in the car when I asked him and braced for him saying he didn't like it but it was too late now, he took my hand, looked at me and said "it sounds amazing. I am so proud of you". He also had me laughing when, having told me he was getting 8 1/2 x 11 ads made up for the concert, he came home with a poster-size glossy version of the ad. "I'm a little bit proud of you," was his excuse. Like I'll argue with that!

D and I sat with Tim and listened through the final mixes yesterday. It sounds better than I imagined.

The recording is done, the tracks mixed and they are in Toronto as I type this, being mastered into the final files that will be taken to the duplication company tomorrow. The artwork was another time crunch but is in the printers' hands and the final proof was approved by me this morning. It's underway.

October 23 is coming fast, the concert looms and rehearsals are underway for that. It won't sound exactly the same as the CD (what with only one of Uberguitarist and all), but we'll do our best.

One more level of reality awaits: holding the finished product in my hands.

covered

My CD now has a little identity.

Wow.

shift happens

Tuesday and Wednesday nights this week were BGVs, the 'ooh's and 'aah's that fill a song out. Some wonderful friends from the worship team were there on Tuesday to add some, and on Wednesday I redid some of my own. One great thing was that most of what I'd recorded when we did ghost tracking was perfectly good to use, so there were just some little edits and additions.

When I got home I realized that though there is percussion, and mixing, etc etc, left to do, I am done making noise for this project. I was done. It was surreal to start doing it, and surreal again to be finished. Bro-in-law E had the perfect analogy when he said "so it's like when you write your last exam ever after 20 years of school" - and that was very like the feeling.

But the shifting happens right away. Next week I sit in with Tim for mixing, going through takes to make sure that what we have is indeed what we want - there is a point of no return. Last night many plans were made with the band for the concert. I shift from recorded music to putting on a live concert that will give the flavor of the CD with different musicians (since Uberguitarist plays six different guitars on the CD and there's only one of him, for example). Rehearsals, logistics, all has to be figured out.

I'm wondering when life gets back to normal ... or if this is one of those times of my life where I don't go back to normal, but find a new normal.

done

I am really, truly finished recording lead vocals. What a journey.

I learned new singing techniques, from mental preparation (such a huge part of it!) to physical positioning. I learned to go outside my little ideas of my vocal abilities. Sometimes I laughed at the results, but more often I learned I could do something new. I learned what some of my bad habits are and how to address them. Maria gave me so many tools, I'm still figuring out how to remember to use them all. My vocal delivery has changed already, yet the learning continues.

I learned a teensy bit about the recording process through watching Tim at work. I'll never listen to a CD with quite the same ears again. So may subtleties that the producer draws from the artist, that the recording engineer pulls together. Even a solo album is such a collaboration of creative effort.

I learned (well, affirmed) that I have an amazing husband and kids, who have lived in this chaos of my making in the most supportive ways imaginable. They've exemplified flexibility, grace, and caring.

I learned that internet networking has a reach I could never have attained otherwise. Amazing how far it's able to go.

I learned that there is still more to learn.

Where will it go from here?