I’ve got songwriter’s block.

Lest we confuse songwriter’s block with writer’s block, allow me to explain the difference. Writer’s block is something that’s not alien to me and as members of the Blog of Sound community, you should probably realize that the expanded times when there have been no entries here I was suffering from writer’s block. Sometimes, there’s nothing to say. You can force yourself to write and everything that comes out is trite or seems entirely too forced. And sometimes you can sit down to write and nothing at all comes out. Hence the use of the word “block.” Songwriter’s block is not that different.

Since about midway through last week I’ve been suffering from songwriter’s block of the worst kind. I know I need to write songs; my band is going through a transitional period and we need a whole new catalog of original songs. Being the primary guitarist (for the time being anyway) I naturally have to do some writing. After a lengthy conversation with our singer last week I left my job and went home to do some serious songwriting. I had incredibly good intentions and yet I couldn’t come up with so much as a phrase that I was willing to use in any song. All the riffs I played were familiar. All the progressions sounded like songs I already knew. I couldn’t even play original sounding rhythm patterns. songwriter’s block had moved into town, set up camp in my living room and had refused to leave my living room.

I’m happy to report that I have since started to send songwriter’s block on its merry little way and I’m slowly getting back on the road to writing freedom. It didn’t come easy. I spent most of last week and much of this past weekend trying to come up with something new. I fiddled with songs I’d written previously trying to come up with something new. I’ve deconstructed and attempted to reconstruct some of these older songs and I’ve even tried to build off of popular songs. Nothing seemed to work. And then I fell out of my comfort zone.

I came across some of the guitar gear from when I first started playing guitar 15 years ago. It was all tucked together in a neat little time capsule:  Dava control picks with metal tips, guitar straps that I’d discarded because they seemed a little too Rastafarian for my tastes, notebooks full of beginner’s notes and snippets of lyrics, and my very first guitar pick.

I’m surprised this pick has survived for the last 15 years. I lose picks faster than the speed of light. My current pick of choice (Clayton .80mm) disappears just about as fast as I can purchase them but this misfit from days gone by has resurfaced like a bad penny. If it’s possible, it’s nearly 10 times as thick as my Claytons. The pointed end is completely rounded and oh yes, I had carved my initials on one side of the pick to make it easier to hold onto and on the other side I had crudely carved the word “ZAP.” What can I say? I was just that cool.

When I rediscovered this pick I was instantly at awe over its width. I can’t imagine how I ever learned to play with this monster. It was made for pure lead playing with little rhythms or maybe chunky rhythms at best. This was no pick for a beginner but I remember picking it out from the local guitar shop almost as clear as day: I was terrified to be there and grabbed the first picks I could find, paid and ran away. I can’t remember the name of that store because its long since closed, but this pick still remains. This bohemeth of a pick.

I don’t know how I ever played using this pick and in retrospect, it could have been one of the contributing factors to my greatness (or lack thereof) but out of sheer curiosity I picked up one of my guitars this weekend and started to play it with this pick. It felt foreign and alien and all at once incredibly familiar. Within a few moments I was playing new riffs and progressions that I hadn’t considered before.
Perhaps my songwriter’s block was all about comfort and I just needed to find my way out of my comfort zone to get past it. If everything is familiar, then maybe the unfamiliar will help make the process go a little easier. So far, its working for me. I’m sure I haven’t written the next big hit, but I know I’ve written something.