Hella Stella

It's been a yin and yang 24 hours.

I had a great hair cut, and walked out of the salon to find my car dead. Because I left the lights on. And the doors had frozen shut.

This morning I had a lovely breakfast and then found out that my Bubbi was taken to the hospital. She's fine now, which is great, but it was worrying.

It's balancing out now though... I had a great dinner with my folks and my BH, which always cheers me up. I also took Morty to the park and watched him get sexed up by his boyfriend Norman the Saint Bernard.

So that was funny.

And now I'm going to fold laundry.

Happy Saturday!

When I was thirteen, I begged my parents to sign me up for a songwriting workshop taking place at the U of O campus.

I had read about it in the newspaper, and I figured that if I could learn the one and only magic songwriting formula, I'd be able to craft perfect tunes all by myself. I had been writing music in some shape or form for years already, although nothing was really coming out as the stuff I heard on the radio. This workshop would change that, I was sure.

They signed me up after some discussion (it wasn't cheap), and I headed over with no doubt in my mind that I would learn the "trick," as it were, to songwriting.

Holy disappointment.

I'll leave the names out, but this is what I found when I arrived.

Young music types were packed into an auditorium. We all had our notebooks out, ready to learn. I knew these sorts of kids... I had been competing against them in music festivals for a good chunk of my childhood. They were driven, talented, and often slightly deranged. They had always been told that they were the best at what they did, and they believed it. Spoiled, you could say, with spoiled parents. Spoiled STAGE parents. The worst of the worst.

I did not have spoiled parents. My parents were theatre and costume geeks who had lived their lives surrounded with creativity and art. Not a lot of music there, but when they saw my interest in singing, they were happy to indulge me. I'm glad they did.

Anyway, the workshop. A commercially successful Canadian songwriter came on stage, and handouts were circulated in the crowd. These contained the magic song formula, I imagine.

The songwriter went on to explain that to create a successful pop song, you only needed to follow some very simple lyric and structure rules. Keep the language simple, write about love, and always follow the verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus formula. DO NOT STRAY. She also included helpful tips on when to repeat lines from your chorus, what chord progressions to use, when to say "baby, baby," how to ooooh and aaaah like the best of them.... You get the picture.

I may have only been thirteen, but I was not an idiot. I was horrified by this so-called winning formula, not only because it stifled creativity, but also because it taught people to pump out songs that all sounded the same. It was based on the misguided assumption that pop for dummies is the only kind of music worth writing. It excluded nearly every other genre, and even really great pop music didn't fit in there.

I was crestfallen and angry. This was not music. It was clear to me that this workshop was nothing but a money grab for people who have been told that they need to "make it" in the industry. These people were not artists, and they weren't going to write anything I would want to listen to.

Thankfully, the workshop also managed to teach me what I didn't want in my own musical career: fake music and fake people. I would not become a commercial pop artist, it was clear.

Apparently I needn't have worried about learning to write songs. When I started playing guitar a year later, all the music inside of me suddenly had a way out. I was writing songs within a month of starting guitar lessons, and I haven't stopped since.

My songwriting formula is no more a winning, magical solution than the shit they taught me at that workshop. It does, however, work for me.

STEP ONE: Get inspired. If I am not doing anything interesting with my time, I am also not writing songs. To stay inspired, I take walks, day trips out of town, explore new neighbourhoods, listen to great music, surround myself with art, and keep notes on my experiences. Heartache is a creative goldmine... Another reason why I'm not writing much these days. :) My notes are usually in the form of phrases, themes or single words that I like. I go back to these lists years after making them to get material for my songs.

STEP TWO: Find a place where you can write. I'm having trouble with that now, since I write best in an empty house, and I rarely find myself in that situation these days. Still, if you just need a comfy chair, or a back porch, or a basement, make that space yours and use it. I think that if I ever have the cash, I will take "songwriting weekends" in Montreal or Toronto where I book a hotel room and I lock down to write for a few days. I would be Ms. Prolific.

STEP THREE: Surround yourself with your inspiration, either your lists or whatever's kicking around in your head, sit down in your songwriting space, and just start to play. I often keep a chord book nearby in case I have trouble getting started. I basically strum and hum until I stumble across a chord progression or a melody I really like, and I build it up until I have a good base to work from.

STEP FOUR: Take those chords and that melody and let them tell you what the lyrics will be. This part REALLY doesn't work for some people, especially songwriters who have their lyrics fully pre-written and fit them into their music. For me, the shape the song takes without words completely dictates how my lyrics end up. That works best for me.

STEP FIVE: Keep fiddling with your chords, melody and lyrics until your song starts to fill out and sound like a song. You will be able to hear it coming together. I try to record this process on a little handheld thingy so I don't forget anything the next day. Keep it up until you are done - your definition of "done" will evolve as your writing evolves.

Basically, write what you feel and keep it up until it becomes second nature. It will get easier, and you will get better. Besides, playing your own songs start to finish is incredibly rewarding, and you won't regret a thing.

(Not even the fact that you may never become a commercially successful pop star. Banjo is the new black. Indie is the new pop. Anything goes.)


Does anyone have anything to add about their creative process? How do you make art?

So. That video about songwriting.

I've tried to upload it three times, and it's simply not working. Last time I left it for three hours before it finally shut my computer down.

Since it is causing me immense frustration, I'm going to tell the video to suck it and I'll make a proper songwriting list instead. I'm good at lists. Video? Not so much.

I'm glad so many of you enjoyed seeing Morty wrapped up in Snuggie goodness. He was adorable and grunty the whole time. I should clarify a few things, however:

1. The Snuggie is not mine. It belongs to my dear friend Heather, who brought it over after we had dim sum yesterday. We have decided to do a series of Snuggie-related projects, some of which involve wearing the Snuggie in public and taking photos to preserve the moment. Her father has an extra Snuggie, so we can do these stunts together, as nature intended.

2. I find the Snuggie, in reality, completely and utterly ridiculous. Besides the fact that it is nothing but a giant blanket with arms, I also far prefer the comfort of a good blanket when I'm trying to stay warm. Heather's Snuggie was so big that it trailed about a meter on the floor behind me (granted, I'm short). The sleeves were about the lenth of my entire body. How is that practical? And how do the kids in the commercial even manage that awkward high-five??

3. Morty was actually a bit perturbed by the Snuggie, but then he tried to love it up, so I think he's changing his mind. DOMINATE THE SNUGGIE.

Not that you could tell, but I was gone all day Saturday. My BH and I drove to Toronto on a whim, going there and back in one day. It would have actually been great if we hadn't hit a storm on the way home, right around the same time we realized that our borrowed car did not have winter tires. It was a very nervous ride, and a couple of times we were sure we wouldn't be able to stop. We made it home at 3am, and I'm still feeling worse for wear.

Why would we drive to Toronto if we can only go for one day, you ask? A few reasons.

If we had our own car, we would have stayed overnight. We don't, and given our time restraints, we thought we'd rather go for a day than not at all. We also have a few things we love to do in Toronto, and they don't take a whole lot of time. They are mostly within walking distance of our parking garage, and then we always finish the day by having dinner in Little India. This is conveniently around the corner from the highway.

We were also going stir crazy, and a quick jaunt out of town was all we needed. We got some kick-ass chocolate, a bunch of new music, some great books, and we ate at two of our favourite restaurants. We even got to visit Shawna! It was excellent quality time.

I'm already planning another trip back, but this time we'll stay overnight. That way we can fit in more eating and poking around on King St. E. I love that area.

Perhaps the greatest part of our trip was the time we got to spend together. When we're at home, we're often doing chores or watching a movie or playing with Morty. This doesn't leave a lot of time for good conversation. Sure enough, when we really got talking over spicy dosas and tea on Gerrard St, we made an entire plan (plus financing!) for my next album.

That alone was worth the drive.

That, and the fact that I bought a book called "On Bullshit" that is literally a book about the art of bullshitting. Yes please.

Morty tries to ignore the Snuggie, but NOBODY can ignore a Snuggie! Especially when it's lying on the couch, looking inviting.

He tries to make a nest out of Snuggie goodness. He can't quite understand why there are pockets. For treats, he asks?

He samples the Snuggie and decides that it makes a suitable snack. Drool ensues.

Morty relaxes into the arms of the Snuggie. You can't fight it. Just go with the flow.

Heather dons the Snuggie to demonstrate what the commercial means by "one size fits all" (aka, one size fits very few people).

And SCENE!

I've had a rough time with mornings lately. I've been going to bed far too late, predictably missing my alarm when it goes off in the wee small hours.

Yesterday was especially bad. I jolted awake with twenty minutes before I had to leave the house. Throwing on whatever clothes I could find in the half light, I stumbled over to the bathroom the make myself look presentable. I flicked on the light. It was dead, and instead of taking the time to change the bulb, I put on makeup in the dark (when I got to work, I realized what a mistake that was).

I also noticed later in the day that the pants I had chosen to wear had dog food on them.

Plus, when I was leaving the house, I glanced into the front room to see that our daffodil plant had thrown itself off the shelf. There was dirt everywhere, but since I had one foot out the door, I had to leave it and call my BH in transit to tell him about the mess.

The solution to these terrible mornings is simply to prepare better the night before and get to bed early. I don't know why I can't just put that into practice.

But in more cheerful news, last night I had So! Much! Fun!

Milan and Emily invited my BH and I over for some grub. Milan said it was to thank us for teaching him how to make crispy tofu, but I think it was just a plot to one-up me. They made this elaborate arugula pesto linguine with roasted veggies, a big salad, and garlic bread. Dude, that is FAR MORE IMPRESSIVE than crispy tofu. Now we're going to have to invite them back and cook a ten-course meal to thank them properly.

I was fed a lot of wine so I *may* have done inappropriate things with avocados. Luckily Emily was all into it and we snuck off to the kitchen to carve faces into fruits and veggies. I'm... Not even kidding. Photos to come.

There's a chance I'll be out of town for a large chunk of this weekend. I will try and post that songwriting video before I leave, should I leave, so you can see one of the many reasons I stay up so late.

Who wants to sleep when you can make shaky videos on your camera?

Dears. Some good news.

I've got an idea for my next album percolating in the back of my brain. Realistically, it will be at least two or three years before I can put it into motion, but I swear it will come sooner if I win the lottery.

I learned a lot from releasing my last record. I'm thankful that I didn't get hit with any particularly gruelling lessons; after all, I had released albums before and had already worked out the major kinks. I'd say my biggest problem with this last CD was the cost, since it was self-financed and as professional as I could make it without resorting to a diet of rice and lentils. It was my choice to go with the best manufacturing, mastering, recording and advertising that I could manage, and I'm still paying that off. Not to mention a costly CD release, which eventually paid for itself, THANK GOD, because otherwise I'd be in deep shit.

At the same time, I don't regret it. The album took off without me having to lift a finger, and I'm hoping that's because the product was solid. I'm glad I made the effort at the start so that I could relax a little more later on. Relax, burn out, whatever.

Next time will be different, I imagine. I'll be applying for grants, although I'm not holding my breath considering how many talented people compete for those things. I'll be doing all my pre-production at home, and hopefully my studio time will be spent laying down tracks I've already figured out months in advance (I can see myself laughing at this sentence later on). Manufacturing will be tough, because I actually don't like to cut corners on the quality of the CD, digipack, pictures etc. So that has yet to be determined.

And I'd like to make a music video for the next album too. Ouch.

It's okay though. I've got a couple of years to think it through. But for the first time in a while, I can see the album in my mind. It's a nice feeling. Or, it doesn't feel like panic... Yet.

OH!

I have made a shitty video for y'all about how I write songs. Not that I set out to make the video shitty, it's just that I recorded it on my digital camera at 12:30 am last night in my pajamas. Quietly. Because everyone else was asleep. And I may have uttered the phrase "pulled it out of my ass" while gesturing wildly at nothing in particular.

Anyway. It will be posted here as soon as I have a chance to upload the dang thing. Promise.