I didn't write anything yesterday except the names of the guys in the band. And I don't want to share those yet anyway.
Part of me really wants to share every little detail. But another part of me is this strong protective instinct. It's almost motherly.
When you write things in that quiet, fluid, soft place where everything's malleable - still being knitted together, it's private. If people are watching, it's hard not to be self-conscious, and that ruins it. It's got to be the opposite of self-conscious. Song conscious.
Performance is different - performance is a conversation. The ears are just as important (if not more important) than the voice. Without an audience, and the interchange of emotions and the "vibe" in the room (which has to be that "new person" created when 2 or more people gather/come together) it's not a performance.
So far, recording seems like it's part conversation and part secretive.
It's weird doing it this way - with this blog and the audience so much a part of it all. But it's cool too.
Today, some of the band gets here. These guys are all pros; really cool guys who play with other cool guys.
It's easy for me to feel insignificant and undeserving of all the talent we're bringing in. Every songwriter wants to feel like the "real deal," and I want to feel that way. Sometimes I do.
But sometimes I worry tat I'm more a pedigree princess than the real deal. I don't want to be just a last name and a nice guitar.
So I have to fight those voices that tell me maybe I'm not good enough for the cool studio, the cool players, the cool producer. It's hard to feel like I'm worth it.
But I always feel like the songs are worth it. That's my saving grace. Maybe it's vanity but I don't think so. The songs feel so separate and distinct from me (most of them, anyway) that I don't feel like I can take credit for them even. In some ways I can. But in a lot of ways, I can't.
They demand to be their own thing and I'm happy with that arrangement. It's a buffer against vanity - taking credit - and also against insecurities - taking blame. If it's not about me than I'm safe.
And then I can say to those voices (that tell me I'm not good enough) to shut the hell up.
Shut the hell up, voices. We've got a good day of good work ahead of us.
On a completely different subject, I have a story to relate. It sounds sort of cheesy, but it really happened:
Last night there was a big thunderstorm. It woke me up at 3 in the morning. There were a couple of lights on and they flickered off. Big scary booming thunder. And I was half asleep and kind of afraid but then I had this sense of peace that washed over me.
I realized where I was- safe and utterly comfortable in the nicest bed ever, in the safest place I can think of. And then I felt like I was on this little island, in the eye of the storm.
And I thought it was God talking to me- telling me that I'm taken care of, that I'm safe. It was nice to hear, because I'd had a long conversation with Cris before bed. One of those conversations where you talk about everything that scares the both of you: about your shortcomings as a person, as a marriage. About everything that could go wrong, everything that threatens our dearly loved little life. And we both felt like it was all so precarious and that the odds are so stacked against us. But before we said goodnight, we decided to trust God and to tell each other again, how much we love each other. How much we need each other and how much we wouldn't have it any other way- if that meant not having each other in our life.
And I felt like I heard God answering me in the thunderstorm. It could have just been that I was half asleep and half dreaming. But that's what I thought I heard.
