Songwriting Without Boundaries Page 9

Clouds march across the azure sky, mosquitoes hover on helicopter wings dive-bombing the man’s white skin, traffic parades down main street …

  Andrea becomes summer, and her ninety-second exercise gives an account of the stripes. Susan welcomes the military family into her ninety seconds. Nice.

  You try.

  A restaurant is a wineglass

  ANNE HALVORSEN: A restaurant is a wineglass, its bouquet slipping out with satiated diners as she pulls open the door …

  Standing at the top of spiral steps stemming from the round, darkened space, her eyes drinking in the open skylight, the streetlamps sparking the walls of glass … astonishing scents flooding her, loamy earth … a pastiche of sweet spice, baking bread, herbed oils, sliding her down the steps into the center of it all, eating the perfume even before she finds her feet enough to teeter toward her friends …

  SUSAN CATTANEO: A restaurant is a wineglass, full of rosy patrons whose laughter spills over into the open streets …

  Waiters flow through the crowded room, the chatter of silverware on china plates, music pours out from the speakers, the flicker of candlelight making crystal patterns on white tablecloths …

  Both Anne and Susan invite the wineglass family into the restaurant. Find as many wineglass family members as you can in their pieces.

  Now write your own.

  DAY #8

  EXPRESSED IDENTITY:

  NOUN-NOUN COLLISIONS

  So now you’re an old pro at expressed identity. Today, reverse the nouns and see what you can get.

  NOUNS NOUNS

  Cargo ship Wince

  Zipper Frisbee

  Evening Poem

  Captain Summer

  Wineglass Restaurant

  As usual, write a sentence or short paragraph for each collision. Then do your ninety seconds.

  A cargo ship is a wince

  JESS MEIDER: The cargo ship’s wince from the yellow explosion freeze its face into the night.

  Seaside, I stand on tiny rocks, microscopic as they shift and shhh me while I shift my weight over bare feet. Sloshing in the distance, the lights of a bulldog-faced cargo ship wince, an explosive collision with another boat, baboom and billowing in the darkness, metal glugging in the seawater like an overthirsty beast.

  BONNIE HAYES: A cargo ship is a wince on the otherwise placid and beautiful face of the ocean.

  It shudders on the shoulders of the world and mars the peace, doing its quotidian tasks of making somebody money, while resting upon a world of miracles.

  Note Jess’s use of the third form of expressed identity, “cargo ship’s wince.” And Bonnie’s introduction of face’s family, including shoulders.

  Your turn.

  A zipper is a Frisbee

  BONNIE HAYES: A zipper is a Frisbee, the traverser between up and down.

  A yippee of energy. Up and down, over and over again, tracing its course, then suddenly off into the bushes or onto a busy street—ooops, caught; skin in the teeth!

  CHANELLE DAVIS: Shoppers watched curiously as the tantrum escalated outside the supermarket. The mother and son played a game of Frisbee with his jacket zipper, which he refused to keep done up—stomping his feet in the blackened car park snow.

  Metal zipping up and down, blue jacket cold numb fingers, red plastic boots, clanging of shopping trolleys, swishing of plastic grocery bags stretching under the weight of milk bottles, runny nose …

  This one is trickier, but once you see that a Frisbee is in motion, back and forth, it’s easier to see “the traverser between up and down” and the “game of Frisbee with his zipper.” It’s a game of looking for Frisbee qualities that are shared with zippers. Lots more on this later.

  Write your own.

  An evening is a poem

  ANDREA STOLPE: An evening is a poem, strung along the infinite moment, harnessing dark and light, tangible and intangible.

  Tufts of long grasses erupt from the fine sand at the edge of the trees, my spot for watching the earth descend into evening, and finally into deep sleep. Stars stud the night sky and I look across the Milky Way. The air thins as it cools, and my bare legs …

  SUSAN CATTANEO: The winter evening is a poem, filled with chilly passages and the delicate cadence of snow flurries on the paper-white ground …

  The wind breathing in and out in swirls of white powder, a dog crouches down then leaps into the snow, a four-legged iambic pentameter …

  Hot spots: “poem harnessing dark and light”; “the delicate cadence of snow flurries.”

  Your turn.

  The captain is summer

  SUSAN CATTANEO: The army captain is summer, hot and sweaty in his fatigues, white and still while he waits for autumn to make the first move.

  Languid trees lounge over his head, the jungle is a forest of green, combat boots squelch in the hazy mud …

  KRISTIN CIFELLI: The captain is summer, with sandy blonde hair, Atlantic ocean-blue eyes, and glowing, carefree skin.

  It was hard to take him seriously—the captain looked more like a lifeguard on Laguna Beach than an army captain. He was summer—carefree and all smiles, a friendly ice-cream cone, and a welcoming watermelon. He melted the girls with his sunny skin …

  In this one a simile might make the direction clearer: “The captain is like summer, he ….”

  It feels much easier to slide the other way—summer is a captain. That direction may offer more family members. When you have very few family members stepping into the other living room, simile may work better.

  Both Susan and Kristin got it right, creating some pretty summery captains.

  Now, you go.

  A wineglass is a restaurant

  SUSAN CATTANEO: Her wineglass was a restaurant, crowded with the taste of oak and pear, a transparent window to the wine sitting inside.

  A mellow conversation in warm red, speaking of wide aisles of grapes, hanging full and ripe on the green curlicue vines, crushing pulp underfoot like sawdust, the bees are waiters hovering at each plant before moving on.

  BONNIE HAYES: A wineglass is a restaurant full of smells and flavors.

  Here is the smoke of the grill, the scent of the lilacs in the centerpieces, the berries in the compote. There is the bitterness of the greens, a slight smell of must from the area behind the bar, the mineral smell of money, and a slight tang of citrus.

  This one works well both ways. Lots of family members in common—the mark of a productive metaphor. Clearly, both Susan and Bonnie know their wines.

  Your turn.

  DAY #9

  EXPRESSED IDENTITY:

  FINDING NOUNS FROM NOUNS

  Okay, today you’ll start with a noun and find an expressed identity of your own.

  Start by surveying some members of the prompt’s family and see what other families they might belong to. You’ll become very familiar with this process in Challenge #3. This is the ramp to get you there safely.

  Find a colliding noun for each of the nouns below and write your sentence or short paragraph. Then do your ninety seconds.

  Maple tree is _________

  CAROLINE HARVEY: The maple tree is an elephant.

  It is hefty and anchored into the ground, swinging its branches in the spring breeze, swaying its bark trunk and sauntering heavily; bristly to the touch, rough hewn and covered in dirt. Slow, steady, and it remembers you as a child, climbing it with your sweaty palms and smooth feet.

  GREG BECKER: The maple tree is the grandfather of the backyard.

  Maple tree strong and old unwilling to budge, releasing its sap through the spikes that have been stuck in it, the old bull in the ring with swords dangling from its back and blood trickling down them as the sweet nectar of the maple tree is stolen by our greedy sweet tooth—the wise old maple tree weathered years of storms and fierce winds.

  The elephant family has lots of members to choose from. I especially like “it remembers you as a child, climbing it with your sweaty palms and smooth feet,” and “the wise old maple tre
e weathered years of storms.”

  Write your own.

  Traffic is _________

  CHARLOTTE PENCE: The traffic is desire stutter-stopping down Broadway.

  A scarf, a hair band, a tinny umbrella spoke ground down into the asphalt where you wait in this stalled dance of desire that groans and honks and birds and slices to the right. Each car is a link, an animal with its own whirring engine and downshift grit. The wheel under your hands is too smooth and the sky above you narrows to the width of your lane. And in your mouth is the taste of dry chrome as you inch up only to stop again, moving in an idling path of smoke, horns.

  CAROLINE HARVEY: The hawk of traffic flies by my LA apartment at vibrating speeds.

  My couch rattles and I can hear the whoosh of cars, the honk of impatient horns, smell the toxic grey of smog. Somewhere there is an ocean; salty crystal waiting to dry on my skin and in my hair; somewhere there is sunshine waiting to color my skin with warmth. But here, in this apartment, there is only the zip of traffic’s wings, rushing past me on its way to kill, cars moving in an orchestrated hunt.

  Hot spots: “this stalled dance of desire that groans and honks” and “the zip of traffic’s wings, rushing past me on its way to kill.” Note Charlotte’s use of the second version of expressed identity, “dance of desire,” and Caroline’s “the hawk of traffic.”

  Your turn.

  Sunrise is _________

  CHANELLE DAVIS: Sunrise is a volcano.

  A volcano of sunrise erupted across the horizon.

  Orange and yellow light, lava flowing into the sky, taking over the land, slowly warming my skin, drying out dew on grass, rooster crowing …

  GREG BECKER: Sunrise is a symphony.

  The twill of the tiny robin was the first note of the sunrise symphony.

  The slow steady climb of the sun, as it approaches the night sky over the horizon the world begins tuning up and preparing for its arrival at the horizon the symphony begins growing with birds, dogs, car doors …

  Chanelle asked the color members of sunrise’s family to help find another noun: What else splashed orange, gold, and yellow into the sky? Ah yes, a volcano. Greg focused on sunrises’s sounds and arrived at symphony. Not so hard …

  Now, you try.

  Cathedral is _________

  SUSAN CATTANEO: The cathedral’s eyes sparkled in the evening sun as its stained glass pupils took in the city below.

  White stone skin and head of spires, looming tall and statuesque over the smaller red roofs, God’s beauty queen looking down on her subjects …

  CHANELLE DAVIS: The cathedral is a kaleidoscope of colour and beauty.

  Sun shining through stained glass ceiling, rainbows of colour, I look up and spin around on the marble floor, patterns blurring and repeating, changing with the light …

  Susan took an extra step: The cathedral is a person, a person has eyes thus the cathedral’s eyes—the third form of expressed identity. Chanelle focuses on the multicolored cathedral and made it to something else multicolored. She could easily have used the third version of expressed identity, the cathedral’s kaleidoscope.

  Your turn.

  Policeman is _________

  CHANELLE DAVIS: The policeman is an owl, the way he swoops through the dark streets on his motorbike, wide-eyed and alert, hunting down the runaway prisoner …

  Moves quick, swerving, taking tight corners, leaning on his bike, stopping to peer over fences and scan trees, dark camouflaged jacket and pants, silent and …

  KRISTIN CIFELLI: The policeman is electricity for the city, keeping it lit up, making it run, and speeding through the streets to save the day.

  Policeman—strong, there for you quickly, rescuing you from darkness. sparking goodness and electrocuting danger. Flying through the streets with a charge …

  Chanelle sees the policeman hunting. What else hunts? Kristin sees the policeman keeping the city running. What else makes the city run? Easy, eh?

  Your turn.

  DAY #10

  PLAYING IN KEYS:

  USING LINKING QUALITIES

  Today, you’ll go beyond what you’ve just done and explore the process of finding metaphors in deeper detail. You’ll be working with three prompts and will be asked to create two responses for each one—six explorations in all. Take your time.

  First, the following lesson, from the second edition of my book, Writing Better Lyrics. It takes a closer look at the concept that words belong to families or keys.

  PLAYING IN KEYS

  Like musical notes that belong to the same key, words can group together in family relationships. Call this a “diatonic relationship.” For example, here are some random words that are diatonic to (in the same key as) tide: ocean, moon, recede, power, beach.

  This is “playing in the key of tide,” where tide is the fundamental tone. This is a way of creating collisions between elements that have at least some things in common—a fertile ground for metaphor. There are many other keys tide can belong to when something else is a fundamental tone, for example, power. Let’s play in its key: Muhammad Ali; avalanche; army; Wheaties; socket; tide.

  All of these words are related to each other by virtue of their relationship to “power.” If you combine them into little collisions, you can often discover metaphors:

  Muhammad Ali avalanched over his opponents.

  An avalanche is an army of snow.

  This army is the Wheaties of our revolution.

  Wheaties plug your morning into a socket.

  A socket holds back tides of electricity.

  Try playing in the key of moon: stars, harvest, lovers, crescent, astronauts, calendar, tide.

  The New Mexico sky is a rich harvest of stars.

  Evening brings a harvest of lovers to the beach.

  The lovers’ feelings waned to a mere crescent.

  The crescent of human knowledge grows with each astronaut’s mission.

  Astronauts’ flights are a calendar of human courage.

  A new calendar washes in a tide of opportunities.

  Essentially, metaphor works by revealing some third thing that two ideas share in common. One good way of finding metaphors is by asking these two questions:

  1. What characteristics does my idea (tide) have?

  2. What else has those characteristics?

  Answering the second question usually releases a flood of possible metaphors.

  Often the relationship between two ideas is not clear. Muhammad Ali is hardly the first idea that comes to mind with avalanche, unless you recognize their linking term, power. In most contexts, Muhammad Ali and avalanche are nondiatonic, or unrelated to each other. Only when you look for a link do you come up with power, or deadly, or “try to keep quiet when you’re in their territories.” Asking the two questions:

  1. What quality does my object have?

  2. What else has that quality?

  Okay, start by listing policeman qualities. Here’s one:

  He protects.

  What else protects?

  Now find two other things that protect. Then find related nouns, verbs, and adjectives for each member of the list and try to apply them to policeman. Write a sentence or a short paragraph for the good ones.

  CHANELLE DAVIS

  1. Flu Vaccine

  2. Lifeguard

  Flu Vaccine: needle, injections, nurse, doctor, veins, immunize, blood, cure, medicine, prick, hospital, cough, sickness, mucus, winter

  The police immunize the public and help fight the symptoms of gangs in New York.

  Lifeguard: drowning, waves, rip, sea, beach, swimming, uniform, swift, strong, muscly, watchful, on duty

  The police were watchful after the earthquake and rescued many stores from the waves of looters that flooded the city.

  Your turn. List two of your own things that protect. Then find related nouns, verbs, and adjectives for each one and try to apply them to policeman. Write a sentence or a short paragraph for the ones you like.

&n
bsp; What else does a policeman do?

  He investigates.

  What else investigates?

  KRISTIN CIFELLI: X-ray

  X-ray: black and white, broken bones, revealing, diagnose

  The police are an x-ray, investigating the broken bones of the neighborhood, revealing every fracture in black and white.

  What else investigates?

  CHARLIE WORSHAM: mechanic

  Mechanic: engine, oil, sweat, heat, grease, dirty, smudged, pistons, wrench, fans, belts, whirring, motor, crank, hood

  Policemen are the mechanics of mystery. They roll up their sleeves, wipe their brow, and pop open the hood of a criminal case, hoping to unlock the mystery. Every piston that misfires, every loose fan belt, every drop of oil is a fingerprint, a smoking gun, a clue as to what went wrong and who’s to blame. In the workshop of a downtown office building or crime lab, they take apart and rebuild every piece of the machine. Whatever it takes, they don’t stop till they can prosecute the bad guy. And like years of sweat equity beneath the workings of vehicles, years of experience with all makes and models of crimes, train a professional policeman to spot likely suspects quickly and efficiently.

  Your turn. List two other things that investigate, then find related nouns, verbs, and adjectives for each member of the list. Try to apply them to policeman. Write a sentence or a short paragraph for the good ones.

  What else does a policeman do?

  He arrests.

  What else arrests?

  CHANELLE DAVIS: Heart

  Heart: stop beating, death, hospital, electric shock, blood, circulation, ambulance, dying

  More police were pumped into the undercover operation, aiming to stop the circulation of pornography.

  CAROLINE HARVEY: The loudest sound you can imagine

  The loudest sound you can imagine: makes everything else disappear, stops time, terrifies, echoes, makes your ears numb and ringing, makes everything after feel silent and small, makes you flinch

  When I saw him stand up, the rest of the courtroom disappeared. I couldn’t feel my legs, my hands were dangling at my side like a shaky mess of Parkinson’s. He thundered to the witness chair, his feet thumping loudly with every gait. I cannot remember anything else from that day, but I can recall exactly the way he adjusted first his left shirt sleeve and then his right. How his hair was parted just a few degrees of center and shone under the fluorescent lights like Superman’s pompadour. The sound of his voice, as he answered my attorney’s questions, echoed the way I imagine a blow horn might sound in the Grand Canyon. All living creatures living miles within distance of the courthouse were silenced when he spoke. When he finished and was excused, I looked down at my hands. I was gripping the fabric of my flowered dress and my left knee, jittery as a mosquito, was helpless.