CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

PROCESS

My friend Bob Nicksic calls. “Got an idea,” he says. “You'll love it. It's about a girl whose parents fight all the time. Whenever they do, she goes into this fantasy world and sings a little song.” Pause.

Right. Like I'm going to guess. “We will, we will rock you?” I offer.

“Nope.”

“Was I close?”

“She sells seashells! Neat, huh?”

It was weird, not that that ever stops me. But she sells seashells?

“Hmm,” I say.

“No. Think about it. I've got some ideas for verses. Listen.”

I press record on my machine. Here's what he gives me:

Yup, pretty weird. But there was something about it — the sort of spooky that slips in when you're not looking. It was slipping in. Besides, picture a singer in the studio getting to the chorus and stiffening for the tongue twister. Better yet, picture people trying to sing along. Irresistible. It appealed to the sadist in me.

I need to get the lay of the land. Time for a little object writing. I think the most productive place to look is at the title, since that's the centerpiece of the song.

Not that I'll use it all, or even any of it, but the process of object writing helps me find out what I have to offer that originates from my own unique sense experiences. The closer I stay to my senses, the more real and effective my writing will be. The front loaders are out of my childhood and may not be helpful in the scene Bob gave me. I like the shells digging to China. The carnage on the beaches and the trenches could well lead to a World War I scene. The spirals etched in the shells may be useful, since the song seems concerned with the consequences for the girl of the parents' breakup. Listening to the shell is a means of escape, though in this world the escape isn't a prosperous one. I like the tides as a metaphor for the parents' voices. The dunes are nice.

CREATE A WORKSHEET

Before I look at the lyric, I'll make an abbreviated worksheet for additional stimulation. I want to find the sonic lay of the land for the keywords so far: sea, shells, shore, sand, tide.

Sea has no final consonant, so we'll look at perfect rhymes, then additive rhymes.

Debris has wonderful possibilities. Think about a beach scene and let it echo through your own senses and imagination.

I'll pass on three-syllable adverbs like breathlessly. First, I'm not a real fan of adverbs in lyrics; second, rhyming the secondary stress with a primary stress sounds awkward. Ditto for three-syllable nouns like memory and rhapsody. I'll stick to words ending on a primary accent.

Disagree isn't bad in this context, but probably not very evocative. I think it's already shown in the verse about thunder and rain. Free is overused. No thanks. You've never used plea in your life unless you've been in court. Why use it in a lyric just to get a rhyme? Referee is tempting, but it takes me somewhere I don't want to be in this song. Refugee is terrific. So, I found two stimulating perfect rhymes: debris and refugee. On to additive rhymes.

Remember, the less sound you add, the closer the rhyme is. The least possible sound comes from the voices plosives, b, d, and g. Nothing under eb. Recede is nice. Seaweed is possible. Maybe bleed. Nothing helpful under eg.

On to the unvoiced plosives, p, k, and t. Deep and sleep. Where do they take you? Streak gives me a beach sky at sunset. Perhaps streaked. I'm a sucker for bittersweet, though I don't see what's sweet in this circumstance. Maybe retreat for the waves' ebb and flow.

So here are our rhymes for sea: debris, refugee, recede, weeds, bleed, deep, sleep, streaked, retreat.

We'll look up perfect and additive rhymes for shell. Additives are particularly effective because l, together with the vowel, make all the sonic connection you'll ever need.

Swell, as in ocean swell. If I could get swelling around the eyes, too, so much the better. Hell is too dramatic — it's one of those words that seems to mean so much more than it conveys. Like soul. Avoid those clunkers. Carousel has the circles and childhood. Maybe, though it seems a little off -center for our beach scene.

That's it for perfect rhyme.

Now browse in the rhyming dictionary through short-e + l + anything else. All I can find is withheld and help.

Okay. Try consonance rhymes, since we're dealing with l. (Change the vowel and keep the final consonants — remember?) Stay with closely related vowel sounds, either short-a or short-i. Nothing under short-a + l. Short-i looks better: chill, spilled.

Here's our rhyme column for shell: swell, carousel, withheld, help, chill, spilled.

Shore ends in another strong consonant. We'll look at perfect rhyme, additive rhyme, and consonance rhyme. This time, you let each word carry you into its possibilities: roar, pour, storm, outworn, torn, blur, search, submerged, curled.

For sand, we'll look at perfect rhyme, family rhyme (since the consonants after the vowel belong to phonetic families), and subtractive rhyme (dropping either consonant after the vowel).

I find nothing interesting under perfect rhyme except the tired old hand/understand/command nonsense.

Let's subtract d, since it's the least noticeable sound. Nothing good. Maybe ran.

Let's substitute for d from the plosive family (b, d, g, p, t, k): chant.

Substitute for n from the nasal family (m, n, ng): slammed, stamped.

Continue through the rest of the short-a + n columns: inheritance.

Our results for sand: ran, chant, slammed, stamped, inheritance.

Not bad. Our last word, tide, ends with a plosive. If it were plural, tides, it would also contain members of the fricative family (f, th, s, sh, ch, v, z, zh, j) after the vowel. Lots of places to look. Perfect rhymes: glide, slide.

Into the plosive family: inscribed (patterns etched), flight, harbor light.

Go to the plural, tides, and subtract d: sacrifice.

Look at the s family: still life, revived, rise, arise.

Our final results for tide are: glide, slide, inscribed, flight, harbor light, sacrifice, still life, revived, rise, arise.

So here's our abbreviated worksheet:

1. sea

2. shells

3. shore

4. sand

5. tide

Use the worksheet for reference. Remember, its main purpose is to get additional ideas and pictures. It is a brainstorming device, not a rhyme-finding device. It's a nice reference, though. Ask Stephen Sondheim: He uses worksheets all the time. Back to Bob's original ideas.

Round One

Look at the chorus. I don't really know what the verses will end up doing, especially since even the rough verses are incomplete. So I don't want to make too early a commitment to a lot of ideas in the chorus. It's best to keep it streamlined and simple at first. My first job is to make sure the verses set up the title. Additional lines can come along later when I'm sure the title works with the verses. So:

The first two verses seem backwards. The reaction is before the action. Try this instead:

Better opening. Now look at the line before the chorus (I call it the trigger line because it releases its meaning into the chorus; whatever the trigger line says will determine how we see the chorus):

I don't get the connection. And I want the first chorus to be the clearest of all. So we need a stronger trigger line. How about:

Better, but I still don't quite get the connection. How about:

Now the chorus becomes her tiny melody. It's important to take time to work on your trigger lines. They are power positions, but more important, they are the last thing you hear before you enter your chorus. Always take time to check them, the earlier the better.

The chorus seems pretty locked in just the way it is — something the little girl can sing, at least in the first system. A commentary line like 'cause her mind can't handle any more seems inappropriate.

Let's finish the verse. For now, how about:

Our whole first song system is:

It seems to work okay. It sets up the scene, and it sets up the chorus pretty clearly. We'll work out the kinks later.

Bob's third verse has the fight turning into a separation. Something unusual is happening:

Not bad development. Daddy's leaving should increase her isolation; in fact, it will change her life. So what can we do with daddy's good-bye?

I was tempted to start looking for ideas with a rhyme search for face (avoiding some of the ugly possibilities like that time will not erase or gone without a trace). I would have gone for family rhymes like safe or rage, or additive or subtractive rhymes like waste or stray. Even assonance rhymes like ache or rain would work, since they would provide a sense of a closed section, yet leave it hanging a little bit, which is perfectly fine in this context.

Where the hell did the spray come from? In my mental picture, they're inside. Sure, spray could be a way of saying tears, but if there is no place for the spray to come from, it's confusing. A metaphor has to be grounded in something real. If they were on the beach, sea spray on his face would be just fine. It could be both what it actually is, plus more. Remember to ground your metaphors in reality. They must have a legitimate place in the context. So I've got to decide. Are they in the house or at the ocean? I can't just assume that my mental picture is everybody's mental picture. I've got to make it everybody's mental picture.

It also seems like this verse has got to be the little girl's verse. It seems like a waste of space to let daddy linger. He said good-bye three lines ago — get him out. We have to set up the little girl's isolation. How about this for verse four:

She's isolated inside her room. Let's look at the trigger:

Now the little girl becomes she in the chorus. She's in her room (in my head) with the sands of time (it's suggested rather than stated, which is actually pretty neat) stretching out before her. Plus, we get the overlay of the little song she sings in the first chorus. Not bad.

So here's box two so far:

The whole thing:

I like common meter for the verses. Sort of nursery rhyme-ish with a lot of musical flexibility. I thought Bob would be impressed. I call back. “What d'ya think?”

“Words okay. But who's ‘she’ in the first verse? Sounds like the mother is the one that's scared, not the daughter. And who isn't crying in the third verse?”

Right. “Call you back.”

Round Two

She Sells Sea Shells (Version 2)

I really liked her hands cupped over her ears, like she was listening to the ocean rather than the fight. I think sings sets up the first chorus even better. And it's clear who the daughter is and who the mother is. I call back. “What d'ya think?”

“Not a bad sketch.”

Sketch? “Thanks,” I mumble. “What else do you think it needs?”

“Some of the lines are a little weird. Could be more elegantly stated,”

he says, tossing one of my favorite critiquing phrases back in my face. I hate being on the receiving end of those little grenades.

Back to it. I thought maybe, in addition to looking for better lines, I'd take a shot at a bridge that looked ahead to her later life — sort of the consequences of her childhood isolation.

Round Three

Here's attempt number three. (Instead of looking only at the rewritten lines, read it all the way through each time to immerse yourself in it. Otherwise, the changes won't make much sense or difference.)

The bridge sort of fell out like that. It seemed like the right idea, but something bothered me about it. Structurally, it was the bridge from Paul Simon's “Still Crazy After All These Years,” with the telltale short last line. But how bad could that be? I love that bridge.

Maybe the last line could be longer to slow everything down, like the bridge in Paul Simon's “Train in the Distance.” How bad could that be? I love that bridge, too. No one would know, unless I told them. Plus, it would give me more room to “state it more elegantly.” Let's try it:

After trying this, it hits me. This bridge can't be in common meter — the verses already are. I'd fallen into the same old trap of locking into a pattern mentally and writing it automatically. C'mon, stupid, a bridge is supposed to contrast, and you've got to make a difference right away, at the first line. I liked the five-stress last line, so I tried it in the first line, and decided on a three-line bridge for a little asymmetry:

Better. I hope Bob likes it. Sometimes my preference for asymmetry drives him nuts. Go back and read version three with the new bridge.

Before I call, one more thing. I've written at least three articles insisting that you check every lyric you write from all points of view.

This one was a third-person narrative. I have to check out first-person narrative, with the little girl as the speaker:

Hmm. It doesn't work very well, does it? There's got to be a tense change for it to make sense. The little girl has to be looking back from adulthood:

The move from past-tense verses to a present-tense bridge works. And each chorus has her cupping her hands over her ears and singing her little song, even as an adult. Kind of a spooky effect.

Now let's try it as a second-person narrative, on the model of Bob Seger's “The Fire Inside”:

Oops. The chorus has to stay in third person. That's the attraction of the song. But the third-person chorus doesn't work very well with you, especially the second and third times. Goodbye to second-person narrative.

So it's between third- and first-person narrative. Close call. Look at versions three and version five side by side:

Version 5	Version 3
Daddy's voice was thunder	Daddy's voice is thunder
Mama's voice was rain	Mama's voice is rain
I was scared to watch	Baby's scared to watch
The hurricane	The hurricane
Shaken by their shouting	Shaken by their shouting
Choking back my tears	Choking back her tears
I'd sing this tiny melody	She sings this tiny melody
Hands cupped over ears	Hands cupped over ears
She sells seashells, she sells seashells
She sells seashells, seashells by the shore
Daddy said he's leaving	Daddy says he's leaving
This time it's good-bye	This time it's good-bye
Mama's chest was heaving	Mama's chest is heaving
Too upset to cry	Too upset to cry
Stumbling down the hallway	Baby stumbles down the hall
Escaping to my room	Escaping to her room
Years stretched out before me	Years stretch out before her
Like sand and shifting dunes	Like sand and shifting dunes
She sells seashells, she sells seashells
She sells seashells, seashells by the shore
Years have etched their	Years have etched their
patterns in my life	patterns in her life
I walk the beach alone	She walks the beach alone
Searching through the	Searching through the
leavings of the tides	leavings of the tides
She sells seashells, she sells seashells
She sells seashells, seashells by the shore

Make your own list of pros and cons for each version. I like the intimacy of first person. Here, however, we lose some immediacy in past tense. The distancing of third person can be effective, but we really don't feel that much distance because the present tense verses are so immediate.

What locks in my decision is the way the third-person bridge flows into the chorus. She in the bridge becomes she in the chorus!

Now, stop to think: Is there any reason to try a version of third person with the verses in past tense? Yup. Process. Go back to version three and do it.

I don't like it. It loses our treasured immediacy. So the verses stay in present tense.

One more thing. How about keeping the narrator focused on the little girl the whole song? We could put the bridge in future tense (never forget future tense — sometimes it can work miracles):

A big difference in focus. I really like the future tense. It moves into the present-tense chorus just as effectively, and it keeps the speaker looking at the little girl in her room. So here's what we've got:

There. Point of view and tense check out. Finally, let's look to see how effective the form is. Right now, it's verse / verse / chorus / verse / verse / chorus / bridge / chorus.

When we get to verse four, we've seen the same structure three times, threatening to make the song feel too long. So what are our options?

Option 1

Dump verse four (or three). That would give us the more streamlined and effective form of: verse / verse / chorus / verse / chorus / bridge / chorus. Look at verses three and four again. Can we dump one?

Try reading from the top, leaving out verse three. She doesn't seem to have a reason to stumble down the hall, nor is there a basis for the dramatic lines years stretch out before her / like sand and shifting dunes.

We need to know daddy's leaving.

We can't do without verse four, either. We couldn't get into the chorus effectively.

Option 2

Combine verses three and four into one effective verse:

Four ideas, each one two lines long. Maybe the bridge can cover the final two lines.

They're not the same, but let's suppose that the bridge will at least suggest the last two lines' idea. We're left with:

Let's get rid of mama's reaction and adjust the rhymes:

What do you think? Certainly the form is more effective. I miss the picture of mama, and its drama. I like the way the bridge fills in for the last two lines of the old verse four, though. Let's see what else we can do.

Option 3

Rather than identical verse structures, change the structure of verses two and four so the same structure doesn't repeat four times. The structure of verses two and four still match each other. Let's work with the first song system:

Daddy's voice is thunder	x
Mama's voice is rain	a
Baby's scared to watch	x
The hurricane	a
Shaken by their shouting	x
Choking back her tears	b
Hands cupped over ears	b
She sings this tiny song so she won't hear	b

Changing the rhyme scheme and extending the last line in verse two gives us a nice contrast with verse one. The two structures are related, but verse two develops and will force musical development as well.

Let's see if we can we play the same trick in the second song system:

Daddy says he's leaving	x
This time it's good-bye	a
Mama's chest is heaving	x
Too upset to cry	a
Baby stumbles down the hall	x
Escaping to her room	b
Lost inside her childish tune	b
Years stretch out like sand and shifting dunes	b

Not bad. This is the result:

Option 4

Change verses two and four into transitional “pre-choruses” to go between verse and chorus. Extend verse two into two five-stress lines:

Not bad. Let's see about the second song system:

The transitional sections have the virtue of forcing a strong musical development. Each song system becomes an integrated unit. Here's our result:

She Sells Sea Shells (Version 10)

Daddy's voice is thunder
Mama's voice is rain
Baby's scared to watch
The hurricane

Cold and shaken, choking back her tears
She sings this song, hands cupped over ears

She sells seashells, she sells seashells
She sells seashells, seashells by the shore

Daddy says he's leaving
This time it's good-bye
Mama's chest is heaving
Too upset to cry

Baby disappears inside her room
Years stretch out like sand and shifting dunes

She sells seashells, she sells seashells
She sells seashells, seashells by the shore

Years will etch their patterns in her life
She'll walk the beach alone
Searching through the leavings of the tides

She sells seashells, she sells seashells
She sells seashells, seashells by the shore

Version 9	Version 10
Daddy's voice is thunder	Daddy's voice is thunder
Mama's voice is rain	Mama's voice is rain
Baby's scared to watch	Baby's scared to watch
The hurricane	The hurricane
Shaken by their shouting	Cold and shaken, choking back her tears
Choking back her tears	She sings this song, hands cupped over ears
Hands cupped over ears
She sings this tiny song so she can't hear
She sells seashells, she sells seashells
She sells seashells, seashells by the shore
Daddy says he's leaving	Daddy says he's leaving
This time it's good-bye	This time it's good-bye
Mama's chest is heaving	Mama's chest is heaving
Too upset to cry	Too upset to cry
Baby stumbles down the hall	Baby disappears inside her room
Escaping to her room	Years stretch out like sand and shifting dune
Lost inside her childish tune
Years stretch out like sand and shifting dunes
She sells seashells, she sells seashells
She sells seashells, seashells by the shore
Years will etch their patterns in her life
She'll walk the beach alone
Searching through the leavings of the tides
She sells seashells, she sells seashells
She sells seashells, seashells by the shore

Perhaps the final choice is a matter of taste, but the important part is the process — developing alternatives is what makes the decisions based on taste possible.

Maybe I could have written lines in option three and option four that would have made me like them better, but my choice is number two. I like the way the second verse sets up the chorus both as her little song (with cry in the sense of call) and as a commentary (“they won't hear her weeping while she sells sea shells”). No, I don't expect everyone to get it, but it's still there resonating and making the emotions richer. Plus, given the last line, they won't hear her cry, their patterns in the bridge now refers both to the parents' patterns and the patterns etched by the years.

My next step: Fax Bob. Then call. Confidently, already salivating at the prospect of watching the blood drain from the demo singer's face when the first chorus comes around, I say, “What d'ya think?”

Minutes pass. He clears his throat. Is he trying to torture me? I suddenly understand my students' suffering as I sit in silence looking over and over their lyrics. Finally he says, “A three-line bridge?”

I knew it.

Of course, we're not done. Now the setting process begins, and things may change radically. But I'm ready for anything, since I've gone through the process thoroughly.

“Wait till you hear the music I've started for it,” he says.

Oh goody. My turn.