ANATOMY OF A WRITING...

I was asked on another writers' board, "How do you write a song?" The quick answer is every one's different. Some just pop out fully-grown, so to speak, and others take more tweaking with structure, and how words sound when they're strung together.

The long answer? Well, I just finished a song. Let me see if I can describe what happened.

First, there was music. There is always music, because I have what amounts to a gigantic 8-track player running in my head all the time. I refer to it as The Soundtrack From God. It's been playing a lot of blues and old-time rock 'n' roll lately, because I got asked last week to contribute lead guitar tracks to two online collaborations that were being recorded, one a Chicago blues, the other progressive rock (and something way outside my usual "box"). One of the guys involved in the blues collab had talked about wanting me to write lyrics for their next one, and I'm obviously interested--words are my strength, not my guitar playing.

And then two bullfrogs moved into the back yard. Actually, one moved into the neighbors' yard, so they're separated by a tall fence. And they call to each other all night. It's almost sweet. ("Touching" is probably a better word for it. Bullfrogs are *not* sweet.) It's the classic Pyramus and Thisbe legend popularized by Shakespeare--the lovers forced to communicate through a chink in the wall that separates them. Only with bullfrogs. And there's the lyric.

A blues, of course, with a good rock 'n' roll beat, because that was the music that was playing. And what these amphibian kids were croaking at each other just *had* to be the blues. It was originally going to be just a short and silly thing, that the abovementioned bluesmen could play off of and do lots of lead breaks to, but the song developed a life of its own (they sometimes do that), and grew from two short verses into something that had three verses (each with an extra line, so it isn't *quite* a 12-bar blues), plus a bridge. (It didn't have a chorus, just a tag line that was also the hook.) And when I recorded it, the whole thing, with just a one-verse lead break, came in at almost 4 minutes.

I both worry and don't worry about structure as I'm assembling the pieces of the song in my head. As a confirmed anarchist, I pay attention to rules when it suits me; I'm concerned primarily that when I'm done, what I've produced is a complete thought (so the listener can say, "Yup--I guess that's about all you can say about *that*"), and that it come in between 3-1/2 and 5 minutes.

(3-1/2 to 5 minutes? Both limits are arbitrary, really. 3-1/2 minutes used to be the maximum length you could fit on a 45-rpm single, and 5 minutes is still the maximum limit for submissions to a lot of song contests. I use it for convenience more than anything else. If a song comes in between 3-1/2 and 5 minutes with a lead break, I know it will be okay when I perform it solo, without a lead break. If it's going to be over 5 minutes with a lead, then I will probably not perform it with a lead. I've violated that limit only 3 times over the course of more than 30 songs, and done it only after a lot of thought. But the time limit ties into the "complete thought" rule. If I can't express a complete thought within that timeframe, then I shouldn't be doing it–or I should re-do it. It enforces an economy and preciseness with words that I think is important.)

My thinking is geared to the song being performed--by me, either solo or with a band--so I want to ensure it's both possible and easy to do that. I'll build in deliberate mnemonic tricks ('cause when I perform, I will not have any music on stage)--like having a word in a specific place sound a certain way so it will rhyme with a word Over There and remind me of what I'm supposed to sing Over There--and I'll build in spots where I can catch my breath without being obvious about it, and places where I can emphasize words, phrases, or even inflections I want people to notice. In this case, because I wanted to use the frogs as my backup singers (because they were so cute, and besides, they sound better'n me), I needed to keep the speed of the song at about what a bullfrog croaks at--which is 120 BPM, by the way.

Before I recorded anything, though, I did other things. It is my normal practice not to write anything down until it's done; however, they let me run a kind of stream-of-consciousness thread over on the MusesK.com board where I kinda thought everything through out loud (I'd done that with another song, previously) and invited people to chime in with suggestions (which they pretty much didn't). When the lyrics were in a form I was satisfied with (and I am hard to satisfy), they were vetted to the folks on MusesK and Just Plain Folks--and I did make one change based on the suggestions I got. *Then* I recorded it.

I hadn't played it on the guitar before then--just listened to the melody in my head. I was pretty sure when I played it on the guitar, it was going to come out country music, because they always do, and I was right. So it's a country blues instead of rock 'n' roll. A friend of mine in Texas has it right now, and she may add a *real* lead guitar, bass, and drums to it, and it may yet sound more rock 'n' roll--I don't know. I played it with our Friday Night Group, which was its first test-out on a live audience (and also its first playing with a Real Band). If the band and audience like it, to the point where they're requesting it again, then (and only then) it's a "keeper," and will become part of the Setlist and maybe go on the next CD.

Oh, and it doesn't have a title per se. I did give it a "working title," because I had to call it something, but I usually let the *audience* be the determinent of the title. When I play it, I won't tell 'em what it's called--I'll wait and see what *they* call it when (if) they request the song again. *That* will be the title. Those folks are much better at naming things than I am, so I let 'em.

And that--kinda lengthy--is The Story. Hope 'twas helpful.