Over the past few years I’ve studied a handful of experienced writers: Nicholas Sparks, John Grisham, Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, Washington Irving, Zora Neale Hurston and Laura Ingalls Wilder. My area of focus was pros particularly their exceptionally creative prose. To me, prose demonstrates the strength of the author to effectively bring forth their imagination into narrative. One of my favorites is Washington Irving’s way of describing the coming of autumn in New York State with the following from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow: “The small birds were taking their farewell banquets.” This is beautifully and creatively written and you can actually picture it in your head. Here’s a great line from Wilder’s “The Long Winter” that really depicts what the families in that community endured during that historically severe winter of 1880-1881 in South Dakota: “The cold and the dark had come again. The nails in the roof were white with frost, the windowpanes were gray. Scraping a peephole only showed the blank, whirling whiteness against the other side of the glass. The stout house quivered and shook; the wind roared and howled.” Nicholas Sparks produced a great imagery in this particular line from The Lucky One: “A few magnolias were scattered here and there and made the sidewalks swell beneath their building roots.” I can totally picture this sidewalk which helps me relate to better to the story being told via Sparks’s effective imagery. And last, my favorite first line of all: “Marley was dead, to begin with.” – Charles Dickens – A Christmas Carol. What a striking way to begin a story! I love it! These great authors have all inspired me to do one thing: Discover my Creative Self. I’ll be blogging more about ways to find inspiration in your every day encounters and events and how to bring those inspirations to life in the form of prose.
The mission of my blog is to connect and inspire. This song was inspired by innocence and the quest for love that’s been lost.
“There and Gone”
Sleepless left my room awaiting
Your window where you and left
The candle burning … somewhere are you out there … tonight?
Into the fog chasing your ghost
Wondering was I too fast, too slow
And I’m running, tumbling down for one last look … but you don’t show.
What if I shut down?
What if I just left?
What if I took everything I said back?
What if tomorrow,
I forgot to call?
Wondering would you even notice at all.
Seasons change as love grows old
Your midnight dress still on the floor
The moonlight bathes your subtle traces following me around.
Sweet is the sound of your warmth where,
I lay come into your embrace
And this distance you have built between us is … tearing me apart (to Chorus)
I won’t lose sleep, won’t be torn.
I won’t miss your dress on the floor.
How the touch of your skin left me believing … I’m almost again.
The velvet of your lips touches me down to my fingertips.
We dance again and heal the wounds we left … on each other’s hearts … so what if I shut down (to Chorus)
Written by B.W. Gibson (Brian Gibson)
This song was inspired by my parents Wes Gibson and Marilyn Gibson and first sung to them on their wedding anniversary in 1997. I love you mom and dad.
I took your hand and I’d take it again
A thousand times to feel the same,
Way I felt the day I promised you … as you put your hand in mine,
How’d we’d always stay together … how our love would fill the sky.
Some live long and still regret
Never seeing what you get
When your life has been surrendered … to a nighttime full of stars.
And the path at which we follow … connects every single one.
God spent a million … on a set of wings.
They brought us this far … and they’ll keep on going.
And all you want is … right here and now.
Drink not the water … when the wine is pouring out … for you.
Enough of me has wasted time
Wondering if I’ll ever find …
Words to give my thoughts a purpose
Days to make it worth the nights
Ground to stand upon my courage
A view to wake my tired eyes
And so tomorrow’s here again
A maiden trail that never ends
All the lessons that life’s taught us … are the two world’s greatest gifts
Be the love that here surrounds us … be the trust we’ve built within … (to Chorus)
Written by B.W. Gibson (Brian Gibson) for his parents
This song was inspired by a documentary program I watched back in my Puffton Village days in Amherst, MA. The program followed the lives of a few teenage girl runaways aways who were lured into a life of prostitution in order to survive life on the streets in Los Angeles and NYC. I love the melody to this song, it’s very catchy and always performed well on stage.
Midnight, backstreet, got to find a phone or they’ll be Hell to pay.
In her, pocket, white-collared man’s bills she too ashamed to …
Count how many times she’s earned them … no thank you’s they just roll over.
Her nights know more than words can say, don’t ask why tomorrow never speaks … of them, they’re all she’s scared to be.
She’s lost to be in love, yeah. She’s lost to be in love, yeah. Oh ….
Visions fill her head and fade as they begin to paint … somewhere, better for her … than
Lying every way she’s learned the ropes so well she can untie her own knots.
Beginning with the first time, she wakes with bruises up and down her legs … that she spreads for dough.
No, no – oh (CHORUS)
There’s something about her. About the place she comes from. They love her and they’re searching hard …
And they will never let go … no, oh … no, no no. (CHORUS to end)
Written by B.W. Gibson (Brian Gibson) November 1998