Seasons

Lovelies,

Creativity has seasons.

Not that I can tell you what they are.

Because really, I think, every creative outing has DIFFERENT seasons. Song A wants 6 months under ice before sending its first brave sprout. Song B is a windstorm and you'll be raking leaves long past the moment you press record.

But I've realized that as a person doing the creating, I, too, have seasons. Or rather, I REQUIRE seasons. 

Not necessarily the same ones as these damn needy songs.

And loves I daresay I'm putting myself first. 

I choose a season of madness. Yes to everything. One more horn arrangement for the session Tuesday. One more hit for the NYC artist visiting Thursday. Vocal sessions that freeze time. Let's try three part harmony in the choruses. But how about four pianos SIMULTANEOUSLY in the outro. Any break from one project looks a whole lot like immersion in another.

My nervous system has some objections to this season.

And I choose a season of recalibration. Like waking to sheets and pillows strewn about the room and opening my computer to methodically catalogue my dreams. What worked? What didn't? What gets deleted? What gets doubled? I edit horns. I pitch vocals. I upload files for mixing.

I often do this season on a different coast.

All this to say: Greetings from Maine! March and April were a delicious bananas souflee. No regrets. And now, to a backdrop of bird-chirping silence, I'm picking up the pieces and they sound GREAT! I can't wait to unveil the latest two productions, the new songs, and a couple exciting writing projects, too.

Next: a demiseason I'll approximate as LIMINALITY. Where the bed is made. Where the computer is closed.

And where I squint my eyes and peak round the bend ahead.

What are your seasons?

Sunshine,

Rachel