"We Can All Be Writers" by Debra Mattson

I’m a writer. Writer of stories, essays, memoir, and—during the nine to five of the workday—a writer of marketing copy, brochures, and social media posts. One thing I do not write, and cannot write, are songs. Therefore, songs are magic to me. Mystical pieces of beauty that appear in the universe and have undeniable powers. Powers to make me get up and dance (yes, even when I’m alone in the room), sing aloud (especially when I’m in my car alone), weep like a baby, and songs that prompt me to write my own fiction and memoir. 

I’m sure there’s some scientific evidence for it—the chords that hit my heart and make it swell with emotion, the particular way of moving from a low note to a high note that stops me in my tracks and brings a memory to the surface, that in turn nudges me to write about that memory. I don’t pretend to understand why or how, but there it is, that magic.

Sometimes, it’s a lyric. The rhyme or a clever turn of phrase, the good old metaphors and similes; they inspire me to add poetry to my own writing. 

Sometimes, it’s a sound. The low, booming chord played on a big drum (see, I’m not musician—I don’t know the names of instruments) that reminds my body of a time past; a moment that needs to be written about. 

Sometimes, it’s when I sing. When I participate in sINgSPIRE choir I am often inspired. When we come together virtually to learn and chat, and sing the beautiful lyrics written by talented musicians and poets, well, inevitably I end up sitting down to write my own pieces of non-music after our rehearsals.  

So, I’m just here to say thank you. Thank you songwriters—those purveyors of poetry (“forbidden fruit, hidden eyes, courtesies that I despise” – Portishead) and fun (“I like pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain”—Rupert Holmes) and truth (“how you get lonely even though, you’re surrounded by the ones you know” – Leon Bridges). Thank you for the sounds that open my heart and mind.  Thank you for the magic that fuels my own art.