Wrote a new song. Loved it. Well, most of it. I was having a little trouble with the bridge, which didn’t seem to lead anywhere. So, I played the song for my music partner Bill Williams, expecting him to suggest a little touch that would do the trick for the trouble spot. He floored me by saying that when he looked at my lyrics, he was hearing a completely different rhythm and tempo overall. I so wanted him to be wrong. “But I love this rhythm and tempo…” I kept thinking.
If I have learned one thing about writing it is this: Beware when you are saying to yourself, “But I love this…” Last night, I forced myself to try Bill’s suggested rhythm and tempo and the song came to life. As I was singing, new lyrics came to me for that troubled old bridge over which I had labored. I can’t even remember now what I loved so much about the old song.







Sometimes I get a letter from a reader that reminds me what this crazy effort to write books is all about. Stories are powerful. By allowing us a glimpse into the truth of another life, we can better see our own.
Reading 
