EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Songwriter, Jennifer Daniels Neal, named Writer of the Year!
Author: Jennifer Daniels Neal
A performing songwriter and accidental novelist out of Lookout Mountain, Georgia, I like to foster community among Creatives. I employ humor and sarcasm (and parentheses) liberally (yes, to deflect) (and because it's funny to me), and I find my own public blog frightening, so periodically it disappears. My favorite thing in the world is to make people laugh. Unless it's to make them cry.
Playing for kids is not unlike playing for drunk people
Kids think you’re super pretty even when you look really bad. They like your shoes. They like your hair. They like the way your eyes smile. It’s a real boost. Kids are also gross. They lick the stage while waiting for photo ops. They sometimes lick you. They need tissues. I know it’s immature to find this funny, but I do. Enjoying people at their grossest has a gritty charm to it. I hope someone’s around to find me charming when I get old and start inappropriate licking.
Creator and Mother (which is redundant) during social distancing
The only way to keep from feeling frustrated past the point of self control is to submit to Motherhood.
Over the next weeks, I’m not going to accomplish what I want to, or even most of what I need to. That little death to self is a good thing. Somebody keep reminding me!
Dauntless Daffodils and other Encouragement For Gig Losers
So stop worrying about the bills (when has that ever been what drove your art?) and get back to work (Unless worrying is what forces the art to happen. Then…carry on).
When your muse throws a sulky tantrum, try these.
Your muse sucks sometimes. She treats you bad. Set boundaries for the relationship. Too much time with frigid non-corporeal women is toxic.
I am a brilliant creative force. No wait. I suck.
My eleven year old daughter, who, not ten minutes ago, was riding a wave of euphoria while singing her new song, is now angry and in tears because that same song “is actually trash.” I’ve been writing (as a career) for twenty one years now, and I still do the same thing.
