Flannery O’Connor said that when people asked her why she was a writer she’d reply, “Because I’m good at it.” What I wouldn’t give to have that kind of confidence! And if anybody ever asks me why I try to write songs, I hope I’m brave enough to say, “Because I’m good at it!” Notice I had to stick the “try” in “try to write songs.” Luckily, nobody asks.
Actually, one person asks me why I write songs, and that person is me. But it is always part of a longer questions like, “Why do you write songs instead of using the weapons of mass destruction necessary to kill the mold behind the washer and dryer that threaten to destroy your families source of clean clothes? Don’t you care if your wife and children have smelly clothes?”
The offer is tempting. If I go work on the mold, I don’t have to deal with the other things in the basement I’d rather not deal with. Such as my song notebook, heavy and fat because I save all of my rough drafts. Why? Because I’m good at saving things. The notebook always wants another verse. My guitar case says, “Open up, a song isn’t finished without a cool riff.” Then the mic stand says, “That melody is lame, better learn a Bob Dylan song instead.” It makes me want to head upstairs.
If only I had an ounce of Flannery O’Connor’s confidence, I could just push through. I try to convince myself of that. Then again, I didn’t have Robert Lowell, Robert Penn Warren, Caroline Gordon, and Robert and Sally Fitzgerald telling me I was a good writer. Who wouldn’t have confidence if the top literary minds of their day praised their work? But that was after O’Connor got to the Iowa Writer’s Workshop. You don’t just end up at the Iowa Writer’s Workshop by making a wrong turn on the way to Atlanta. She knew she was good before she got there. I imagine one day she looked down at what she had written and said, “Wow. That’s legit.” Then she showed it to her friends, family, and/or teacher and they said, “Wow. That’s legit.”
She was also of the school that you either have it or you don’t. If you don’t, God has some other plan for you. But I still entertain doubts that I’m on the wrong side of “it.” Why do I need external affirmation of my songwriting – every day? I’ve been doing this for a long time.
Then I read this quote from St. Theresa of Avila, “Watch carefully, for everything passes quickly, even though your impatience makes doubtful what is certain, and turns a very short time into a long one.”
It reminded me of an interview I did with the local bluegrass legend Mac Martin several years ago. He told me that the best thing that ever happened to him was having a family and a day job that prevented him from touring. Bill Monroe and Flatt and Scruggs were professionals, but in order to remain “professional” they had to alter their sound to stay with the times. Martin played local gigs and did whatever he wanted. In the process, he stayed true to his original sound and long after Monroe and Flatt and Scruggs were gone, bluegrass purists flocked to him for his authentic sound. He was more famous in his 70s and 80s than ever.
Everything passes quickly, so I better get working on those new songs, and the mold too.
Mark Sullivan is the guitarist in The Deep Roots.
