Tony asked me if I would “…bite the hand that feeds you?”
I replied, “Will you stay down on your knees?”
Inspiration is hard to come by these days. A lot of quoting and alluding, but very little actual writing. Am I still a “writer” on the days I’m not actually involved in the act of writing? And is writing to be judged by quality or quantity? Must it be read?
I’ve been propositioned to help write some song lyrics for a composer of music who is writing songs for a friend of mine to sing. This is both an exciting prospect and a scary one. I feel that I am definitely qualified to write in a more poignant fashion than you might find in a Lindsay Lohan song, but what does this really mean? I am creatively confused, or, to continue with the trend of quoting pop songs, I am “…losing focus–kind of drifting to the abstract in terms of how I see myself.”
I need a good critic. Someone to help contextualize what I’m trying to say. Someone who might actually encourage further pursuits. For instance, she could explain that “He observes the subtleties of desire with the precision Wallace Stevens applied to the natural world. Not since Anne Carson has a poet so adeptly described the bittersweet energy generated from the touch of a lover. The joy and annihilation that exists within the love of men.” At which point she might also add that my “current project, the composition of lyrics to be sung by his friend, will be an eagerly anticipated contribution to the universe of song.”
Hmmm, you know, come to think of it, perhaps I should be my own critic. I seem to be better at that than I am at actually writing in a primary fashion. ‘Course it seems that I have a tendency to exaggerate and hyperbolize, which may detract from my believability.