I paused from reading this to tell my wife that Matthew Quick's post today is about her favorite modern musician, Taylor Swift. She, a woman in her 40's, defends Swift's artistry whenever necessary. She is also a huge MQ fan, so she is going to love reading this one!
I find Swift to be an amazing musician who is too outside my abrasive wheelhouse, but I appreciate that you weaved an introspective piece of writing by pondering the current queen of pop. You are a man who seemingly finds inspiration in everything, and feels compelled to share these insights with us so we can also reap something deeper from them - perhaps that's what an artist is. As a constant reader, I, for one, thank you.
I am fascinated by Taylor Swift. I am a 47 year old Swiftie. There are many of us. To me, her vulnerability and authenticity are what we are really drawn to and the songs are written in a way we can all relate to somehow. A “lyrical sorceress” indeed.
I love the idea of artists as canaries in the coal mine. I never thought about it that way but it makes perfect sense. I love how you used writing to push through your melancholy. I have used my own writing this way in the past and plan to do so again as I am in a state of big transition.
Thank you, Matthew!!! I am reading this at a time when I need it most. Synchronicities are not lost on me. As always your words are helpful.
Hi Matthew! When I was about 21, I penned a poetry collection, "Mama Dog Melancholies," for my creative writing course. I was mired in a quicksand of sadness--that kind of sadness that eventually ends in a tree limb lift out of it (via the writing). I still think it's some of the best poetry I've written. Melancholy still follows us, displayed in hoody heads-up and ear bud listening days, or days on the couch watching sad movies. I love how you reach out through writing, involving the rest of us in a bountiful cloud of, well just feeling. As long as we're feeling, we're good, right? I echo Alicia--"Just keep writing." :)
The writing can save. I believe in that. And difficult emotions often lead to the best writing. Most of the novelists I know did not have happy childhoods.
I write these posts months in advance and am often feeling quite changed by the time my words hit Substack. I'm actually deep into a project right now and feeling quite good about it. So I write on!
Thanks for the kind words, Dixie. So glad that you keep finding useful things here.
I still remember when you played Smells Like Teen Spirit for our American Lit class. I'd heard the song before, but I didn't know the name "Kurt Cobain" until we talked about the lyrics in class. I'll never forget that day.
I've always said that I'm envious of artists who can work through melancholy. "Why are these people writing beautiful songs and poetry while I'm laying on the couch, too down to even open my laptop? What's wrong with me?" But I've come to learn that the art and the music and the poetry comes the moment *after* the lowest of lows. The art is the therapy, the climb back up, the way back to our happier selves.
I think we intuitively know that money, fame, power, glamour, et al. are not a preventive for depression, sickness or anxiety. But I also think we have a fantasy that if only. . . I would be happy. In my view, happiness is a spiritual thing, achieved through forgiveness of self and others, acceptance of one’s reality and finding the capacity to love.
Much appreciated, Lucinda. As my analyst says often, reality is medicinal. That "if only" is a tricky dance. I always find my way back by writing about the things I love most. Whenever I try to write about the things I hate, the writing fails me. When I bring it back to love, I always somehow manage to eventually find wings. May we all find that capacity to love. Amen.
This raises the classic question: Do we listen to sad music because we are sad or does sad music make us sad? Susan Cain explored this beautifully in her book Bittersweet. I believe it is both. A feedback loop of sorts.
I loved Nirvana and the day Kurt Cobain died I was packing up to leave Columbus in another attempt at a “geographical cure” for my heroin addiction. It felt like a bad omen. And I cried. A lot.
I was on a church trip in Florida when I put a cassette tape into my Walkman and heard the first few bars of the Sex Pistols “Holidays in the Sun” and felt like my life had changed by the end of the song and indeed it had.
Glad you are in a writing project that feels good.
Great question! I think I soundtrack my life. Gravitate toward music that fits the current mood. But how much of my music selection is unconscious shenanigans? A fascinating topic, for sure.
I recently watched an interview with Cobain that was supposedly one of his last. He said he was fascinated by the novel Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Süskind. I bought a copy and it's now in my nightstand pile.
And I too have tried the geographical cure. And mainlined the Sex Pistols with youth group buddies. Back in the late 80s / early 90s, there was this woman at my church who tried to find us Christian bands that sounded like our favorite secular bands. "If you like Iron Maiden, try Barren Cross," she'd say. When my buddy asked what she had that sounded like the Sex Pistols, she reluctantly admitted she had zilch for that. LOL.
Thanks for being here with us, Eric. Looking forward to sharing our recent THE ONE YOU FEED chat!
I know the moods of which you speak. I fall into them myself. For me, I know I'm going blue because I get headaches. I always write in the morning because I'm at my sharpest, the world's at its quietist, and I do my little rituals of making tea or coffee or whatever, lighting a candle to read by because I hate synthetic light that early in the morning, and then I get to work. I also write in the morning because the longer the day goes, the more likely those headaches come.
Not that they come all the time, or even often. But when they do, they're somewhat inexplicable, and I've learned to make no rash decisions ("Screw it - I'm giving up writing because I'm shit at it") and to sleep on it and invariably things are better in the morning. To which I will add a bit of the magic you've spun with this post: maybe those blue days and the headaches they bring me are just part of the deal - a function vs. a flaw, and as such I might want to welcome them as signs of deep engagement, maybe, and not a part of my brain leaking out of my nose.
If you know, you know. Writing by candlelight is a wonderful image. I went through a period where I was getting eye migraines from too much screen time (writing) without breaks. My vision would explode in flashing lights and purple color and then it was game over for writing that day. Not fun. But probably my body's way of getting the rest it needed.
The MFA director when I was at Goddard, Paul Selig, used to say, "Don't burn the manuscript." And when I am working, I use that phrase just about every single day. LOL.
All of my novelist friends have battled depression in one form or another. And all of my writing heroes have too. I do think it's part of the deal for many writers.
Glad to have someone else who knows here with us, brother. GTA.
I paused from reading this to tell my wife that Matthew Quick's post today is about her favorite modern musician, Taylor Swift. She, a woman in her 40's, defends Swift's artistry whenever necessary. She is also a huge MQ fan, so she is going to love reading this one!
I find Swift to be an amazing musician who is too outside my abrasive wheelhouse, but I appreciate that you weaved an introspective piece of writing by pondering the current queen of pop. You are a man who seemingly finds inspiration in everything, and feels compelled to share these insights with us so we can also reap something deeper from them - perhaps that's what an artist is. As a constant reader, I, for one, thank you.
Hope the wife enjoys this post, Kent. Thanks for the kind words, brother. I take inspiration wherever I can get it! LOL.
I am fascinated by Taylor Swift. I am a 47 year old Swiftie. There are many of us. To me, her vulnerability and authenticity are what we are really drawn to and the songs are written in a way we can all relate to somehow. A “lyrical sorceress” indeed.
I love the idea of artists as canaries in the coal mine. I never thought about it that way but it makes perfect sense. I love how you used writing to push through your melancholy. I have used my own writing this way in the past and plan to do so again as I am in a state of big transition.
Thank you, Matthew!!! I am reading this at a time when I need it most. Synchronicities are not lost on me. As always your words are helpful.
Vulnerability and authenticity are hard to beat in my book. There are a half dozen Swift songs that really get me feeling.
Alicia just recently remarked that she listens to a lot of male singer song writers and I listen to a lot of female. Very Jungian. Animus / Anima.
Sometimes I think my melancholy actually fuels my writing. Like I accrue melancholy and then spend it.
So glad the post was helpful, Amy. Glad we made a connection here.
Hi Matthew! When I was about 21, I penned a poetry collection, "Mama Dog Melancholies," for my creative writing course. I was mired in a quicksand of sadness--that kind of sadness that eventually ends in a tree limb lift out of it (via the writing). I still think it's some of the best poetry I've written. Melancholy still follows us, displayed in hoody heads-up and ear bud listening days, or days on the couch watching sad movies. I love how you reach out through writing, involving the rest of us in a bountiful cloud of, well just feeling. As long as we're feeling, we're good, right? I echo Alicia--"Just keep writing." :)
Mama Dog Melancholies. Great title!
The writing can save. I believe in that. And difficult emotions often lead to the best writing. Most of the novelists I know did not have happy childhoods.
I write these posts months in advance and am often feeling quite changed by the time my words hit Substack. I'm actually deep into a project right now and feeling quite good about it. So I write on!
Thanks for the kind words, Dixie. So glad that you keep finding useful things here.
Hi Matthew!
I still remember when you played Smells Like Teen Spirit for our American Lit class. I'd heard the song before, but I didn't know the name "Kurt Cobain" until we talked about the lyrics in class. I'll never forget that day.
I've always said that I'm envious of artists who can work through melancholy. "Why are these people writing beautiful songs and poetry while I'm laying on the couch, too down to even open my laptop? What's wrong with me?" But I've come to learn that the art and the music and the poetry comes the moment *after* the lowest of lows. The art is the therapy, the climb back up, the way back to our happier selves.
The teacher in me loves that you remember that lesson, Brigid. Thanks for taking me back!
You've got to live it before you can write it. Yes, that's always been my experience.
Here's a terrible story: The hero is happy. The hero remains happy. The hero continues to be happy. The hero is happy forever.
Stories (like life) are all about plusses and minuses. High and lows.
I wish you all the best on your climbs!
Enjoyed your writing very much.
I think we intuitively know that money, fame, power, glamour, et al. are not a preventive for depression, sickness or anxiety. But I also think we have a fantasy that if only. . . I would be happy. In my view, happiness is a spiritual thing, achieved through forgiveness of self and others, acceptance of one’s reality and finding the capacity to love.
Much appreciated, Lucinda. As my analyst says often, reality is medicinal. That "if only" is a tricky dance. I always find my way back by writing about the things I love most. Whenever I try to write about the things I hate, the writing fails me. When I bring it back to love, I always somehow manage to eventually find wings. May we all find that capacity to love. Amen.
This raises the classic question: Do we listen to sad music because we are sad or does sad music make us sad? Susan Cain explored this beautifully in her book Bittersweet. I believe it is both. A feedback loop of sorts.
I loved Nirvana and the day Kurt Cobain died I was packing up to leave Columbus in another attempt at a “geographical cure” for my heroin addiction. It felt like a bad omen. And I cried. A lot.
I was on a church trip in Florida when I put a cassette tape into my Walkman and heard the first few bars of the Sex Pistols “Holidays in the Sun” and felt like my life had changed by the end of the song and indeed it had.
Glad you are in a writing project that feels good.
Great question! I think I soundtrack my life. Gravitate toward music that fits the current mood. But how much of my music selection is unconscious shenanigans? A fascinating topic, for sure.
I recently watched an interview with Cobain that was supposedly one of his last. He said he was fascinated by the novel Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Süskind. I bought a copy and it's now in my nightstand pile.
And I too have tried the geographical cure. And mainlined the Sex Pistols with youth group buddies. Back in the late 80s / early 90s, there was this woman at my church who tried to find us Christian bands that sounded like our favorite secular bands. "If you like Iron Maiden, try Barren Cross," she'd say. When my buddy asked what she had that sounded like the Sex Pistols, she reluctantly admitted she had zilch for that. LOL.
Thanks for being here with us, Eric. Looking forward to sharing our recent THE ONE YOU FEED chat!
I know the moods of which you speak. I fall into them myself. For me, I know I'm going blue because I get headaches. I always write in the morning because I'm at my sharpest, the world's at its quietist, and I do my little rituals of making tea or coffee or whatever, lighting a candle to read by because I hate synthetic light that early in the morning, and then I get to work. I also write in the morning because the longer the day goes, the more likely those headaches come.
Not that they come all the time, or even often. But when they do, they're somewhat inexplicable, and I've learned to make no rash decisions ("Screw it - I'm giving up writing because I'm shit at it") and to sleep on it and invariably things are better in the morning. To which I will add a bit of the magic you've spun with this post: maybe those blue days and the headaches they bring me are just part of the deal - a function vs. a flaw, and as such I might want to welcome them as signs of deep engagement, maybe, and not a part of my brain leaking out of my nose.
If you know, you know. Writing by candlelight is a wonderful image. I went through a period where I was getting eye migraines from too much screen time (writing) without breaks. My vision would explode in flashing lights and purple color and then it was game over for writing that day. Not fun. But probably my body's way of getting the rest it needed.
The MFA director when I was at Goddard, Paul Selig, used to say, "Don't burn the manuscript." And when I am working, I use that phrase just about every single day. LOL.
All of my novelist friends have battled depression in one form or another. And all of my writing heroes have too. I do think it's part of the deal for many writers.
Glad to have someone else who knows here with us, brother. GTA.
Great post....thanks as always.
Glad you got something from it, Mark. Thanks for being here with us.