reflection #2 - the flask

When I wrote the Flask, it was one of those moments in writing that one wishes life could be like all the time. It was inspiration somehow falling into place at all the right times. Often, "careless of failure, I spin out things on the page" (Stafford, William; A Way of Writing, pg. 2). That's sometimes the only way to write. You find yourself a period of time to work and that's what you do; you work. You write until you create something acceptable. Maybe you don't ever arrive at anything acceptable, but at least you were working.

There are instances though, where this "work" isn't necessary. Something just happens, and all of a sudden you've created. You've pulled ideas from within who-knows-where within you, turned them into something you can - in the case of this particular subject - sing. I suppose there's been a lot going on in my life that led towards the lyrics in The Flask, even though it isn't a song that is explicitly about me. This is how I find myself somewhere between the two creative instances found in Jarrett's Personality and Artistic Creativity.  The act of writing the music for a song is a pretty conscious thing for me that I do "working freely, without any sense of being driven or compelled" (Jarrett, James L. ; Personality and Artistic Creativity , pg. 1). However, the way the words find themselves on top of that music is completely different. At times, yes, there are things I want to say about myself or someone else within the song. But most often, I am left "standing somewhat in awe of what has [appeared], as if from outer (inner?) space" (Jarrett, pg. 1). I'm writing about these figures, lives and histories that I've simply imagined.

When I wrote The Flask, the process was one of the purest that I've taken in a long time. Maybe that's why I was so satisfied with the result. Rather than writing in my room like I usually do, where there are so many distractions, I took my guitar and notebook into the backyard of my house. Though my house is small, I'm blessed to have a beautiful garden in the back. It's a quiet, private, secluded space. I sat down on the wicker bench and stayed there for two or three hours, writing and figuring everything out until the song was nearly in its absolute finished state. Obviously, this proved to be the best way for me to go about writing, at least when I know there's something inside of me burning to be on a page. It allows for no outside influence besides what my mind is telling me; whatever wants to manifest itself, from wherever it comes, it is free to do so. My "Way of Writing", has never been more meditative. I must try to write this way more often.