Start the week #61
Mainly a mini essay on genuine writing
Greetings!
I’ve had a chest infection. It’s gone, apart from a bit of coughing. Thanks for asking. But enough of this persiflage! On with the newsletter. which contains a mini treatise on genuine writing, three chortlesome videos, links to other newsletters, and links to a few of my own recent articles.
Enjoy!
Terry
Genuine writing
On Friday I picked up my sax for the first time in a month. I attempted to play Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow. It started off ok-ish, but then the timing went and so did the right notes. Well, you can’t have everything I suppose.
I tried a few more times. On the fifth attempt, I played it without looking at the score. It went surprisingly well — at least, I was surprised. It did go a bit awry, and I wasn’t that enamoured with my rendering, but I kept running out of breath. That’s my excuse anyway.
On Saturday I went to my sax lesson, having missed three weeks. The tutor welcomed me back, and asked me if I’d like to play something for the group.
<Gulp>
Me: Yes. Will you still love me tomorrow.
Tutor: Of course I will, Terry, but what are you going to play for us?
I gave it a go, and got the wrong notes. So the tutor said, try again.
This time, I completely relaxed and didn’t think about performing, just the song. It’s a pity I forgot to record it, because that version was really good. The tutor said it sounded like someone playing the saxophone rather than just learning, and he liked the little flourishes I put in (which are not in the score).
One of the other students said that I played it with feeling. I said I try to think of the words of the song I’m playing. That’s not exactly true, on reflection: I think more of the sentiment of the song I’m playing rather than the lyrics, word by word and line by line.
I think feeling is all-important. I’ve heard harmonica players who are technical virtuosos who leave me standing — but it’s all technique, no emotion.
The two factors that made my last attempt so good were:
Firstly, I stopped thinking about myself, and trying to make a good impression, or at least not making a poor impression. I forgot about the audience, and relaxed. I was just playing for me.
Secondly, I wanted to convey the sense of the song through my instrument. I’ll never forget, many years ago when I got together with a friend, me on blues harp, him on guitar. When it was my turn to play he said, “Come on, Terry, make it cry.” That, to me, epitomises what needs to happen!
What does this have to do with writing? Well, I read a lot of articles and sometimes even whole books where the writer is simply trying too hard to impress the reader. It’s like there’s a sheet of glass between the real writer and the words on the page.
Given the choice, I’d rather read something that was technically banal but heartfelt, than something that was technically brilliant but lacking depth.
Some videos
And now, let’s have some entertainment as an antidote to my pontificating. I hope you enjoy these.
This is a bit close to home. Elaine has never forgiven me for walking right past her in the street.
Elaine: Hello? Hello-o?
Me: Yes? Oh, it’s you. Hello.
Elaine: What, you didn’t recognise me?
Me: Well, you look different.
Elaine: Yes, I’ve had my hair cut and highlights put in.
Me: Well there you are then. How was I supposed to know it was you?
Elaine: ???
Last week I shared a Bugs Bunny musical video with you. Here’s a Tom and Jerry version:
Years ago the residents of Bristol, England, started talking to lampposts and things, by text. Had they all taken hallucinogens? No: a company had made use of the fact that all items of street furniture have a unique code. It’s how the Next Bus service works, whereby you can text the bus stop identifier to Next Bus, and receive a text back telling you when the bus will arrive. Like this:
Here’s a video of what happened in Bristol:
Other people’s writing
Here’s an interesting and uplifting article from
:
Next,
and I have been writing a story, as a sort of relay race. He started, I followed up, and now he’s responded to mine. It’s a great instalment, which I will respond to in due course, right here:
My writing
I’ve published another experiment in style, this time using inappropriate adjectives that, occasionally, are not inappropriate at all. Judge for yourself:
I also published the solution to my Escapism puzzle:
Finally, I wrote to
:
It’s her turn to reply to me, on Wednesday. To make sure you don’t miss that, subscribe to her newsletter now!
That’s it for now. I hope you have enjoyed this, do leave a comment and spread the word.
Thanks for reading.
What a terrific post - it's lovely to meet Terry the musician, and I love the comparison you've drawn with writing.
The 'Will you still love me tomorrow?' story is brilliant! I asked a friend once what her Desert Island Discs would be, and she told me that she had dozens of favourite songs, but didn't know which one topped the lot.
'What's YOUR favourite song?' she asked me.
'I Don't Want To Talk About It', I replied.
The conversation stopped right there. 😳🤣
Congratulation on performing something you were proud of, Terry. A milestone! It is almost time to present it to US! And, yes, you are so smart about the corollary: "When WRITING, stop thinking about yourself, and trying to make a good impression, or at least not making a poor impression. Forget about the audience, and relax. Just WRITE it for yourself." Always the best plan, I think. Not only is the writing better, but it eliminates all the second guessing, the worry about metrics, the fear of criticism, etc. etc. By the way, could you please spell out the word saxophone. My old eyes always read it as sex rather than sax and that can't be good for my heart...