It turns out that good things can happen as soon as you commit to them happening.
After dilly dallying for the past several months, on Sunday I began to work in earnest on my next album, a forthcoming effort to be entitled The Palisades. For me I always have to overcome a bit of reluctance to start one of these things, as I know that saying yes to recording an album means saying no to a host of other things that interest me, and I know it’ll take the better part of the next nine months or so to complete the project.
There’s also the fact that of the eleven proposed tracks for the album, only four have been written in their entirety. Most require another verse or two or a bridge or a better chorus, so the songs I’ve committed to recording might ultimately fall by the wayside in a few months. But for now I’ve chosen eleven out of approximately twenty-five (largely uncompleted) compositions that will provide an overarching theme: mainly that of relationships, something I’ve largely avoided in most of my past efforts.
What’s cool is that once you truly delve into completing something, good things happen. On Day One of my pursuit, I noodled around on the keyboard downstairs on a track called “Why Can’t You Be More Like They Are” – a song I started well over a decade ago – and determined that it needed an interesting intro. After about a half an hour I came up with a solid chord progression that will serve quite nicely, and lo and behold, after playing it several times I decided it would also do well as a bridge to the song. Sure enough, about ten minutes later I had a brand new bridge for a song that heretofore had none. I’ll have to let it percolate for a few weeks before I determine if the new material makes the cut, but if asked today I’d put money on it staying.
Which only goes to show that @@once you set your mind to DO something, you do in fact begin to DO it.@@
There’s a pile of paper on my ping-pong table that includes countless ideas for a novel I’d like to begin writing, but lately the prospect of actually sifting through the material and beginning to write has been such daunting one that I’ve pursued almost anything else I can think of: vacuuming, dusting, walking the dog, cleaning out the litter box – you name it. All are preferable to delving into the creative work that needs to be done.
Which explains why I’m recording a new CD. It’s basically a way to avoid writing the book! But hey, at least I’ll end up with something more fulfilling than a temporarily clean house. Once the CD is complete, I will – I WILL – tackle the novel. And I’ve no doubt that once I commit to doing so, it’ll all fall into place in a more effortless way than I might now imagine.
After I complete the book, I might even commit to painting the family room. Even writing a book seems preferable to that.