Writing Matters
When it comes to school days, I was a big disappointment to my parents. At times, they were elated if I got a C minus. Science and math couldn’t overwhelm the stories and dreams in my head.
I had two older siblings who routinely got straight A’s. On the first day of school, a teacher would take note of my name and say, “Are you Ann-Elise’s brother?” or “Are you David’s brother?” When I replied affirmatively, they would always say how much they were looking forward to having me in their class. One would have thought that my reputation as being less than my siblings would have preceded me, but I guess hope springs eternal. The moment the connection was made, I knew I was going to let yet another teacher down.
Music, Art, and English were interesting to me, in that order. When, as an eighth grader, I brought an A+ home in English, my parents were clued in that they weren’t mistaken to have high expectations. I had unwittingly raised the bar for myself by performing well. The fact is and was, I’m good with words. Words have gotten me out of as much trouble as they’ve gotten me into. Words have given me a moment of comedy to melt the heart of a parent or teacher who is ready to punish me.
Words, color, sounds—these are the things in my toolbox. I see creativity as a natural part of who I am, and whether I’m writing, painting, or composing. I’m doing it because it’s what I do. Just like breathing, but more interesting.
I think my folks would be surprised that the son who so disappointed them as a student has made a living by doing what comes naturally. My mom was still living when my first book God on the Rocks: Distilling Religion, Savoring Faith was published in 2013. I didn’t tell her about the book, because I didn’t think she’d be capable of enjoying how I wrote about her. She’s the favorite character of most people who’ve read the book, but I’m not sure she would have found humor in the funny things I wrote about her.
She might have liked my new book Summer of Gone better, although some of my lifestyle choices would have presented a challenge; and I would have heard about it. I feel confident that in reading this new book, my mother would have had some empathy for what her son went through within its pages.
I’ve long believed and stated that trauma is behind every great book, song, painting, or whatever masterpiece one would like to discuss. I think of my album “Bliss”, all love songs, and know that it was inspired by the love I’ve received in the last few years, but behind it all is the reality and contrast of what life is like when it’s not bequeathing sweetness.
And there’s the catch. Trauma, loss, heartache, and conflict can be gifts if we allow them to be. When I’ve experienced any of these things, I usually grab a guitar and write a song.
In the case of Summer of Gone, my initial response / reaction to the story I was living in before I wrote it was to reach for the guitar or piano. I tried to write prose, but the raw prose wasn’t worthy of anyone’s witness; the wounds were too unpleasant to look at, not yet healing. The songs, particularly on an album called “Hornet’s Nest”, got me through. A good groove and some badass musicianship were the offset to the sting of the lyrics. Writing those tunes mattered; if I wasn’t allowed to tell my tale, at least I could let it morph into a song cycle.
The same love and kindness that inspired my album “Bliss” gave me the will to write Summer of Gone out of gratitude for the blessings of life, blessings that were in play simultaneous to the story of cancer and loss that I was experiencing in 2017, I hope readers feel the ray of kindness that I tried to illuminate my story with.
If you’ve read this far, I want to invite you to pick up a copy of Summer of Gone. You can do it here on my website (and I’ll sign it) or find it wherever books are sold. It releases Tuesday, August 18 on all literature sites. Let me know how you like it, and if you acquire it from a site that allows for reader reviews, please post a review, assuming you got something out of it.
Writing matters. So does reading and listening. Listen to your hurts and your dreams. Pick up a pen and write about them. You may find yourself being called an author.