the Momentum Method

So it's no use denying it now.

I'm in a total slump.

this "impinged" nerve in my back has totally proved that Newtonian physics are fully applicable in the magical world of creative endeavors. Inspiration in motion will stay in motion until acted upon by a greater or equal force.

I was on a six month high. Gettin it done, as it were. But when I came to an abrupt physical halt, everything, including my desire to break every songwriting law I know, shut done like the landing lights when Johnny pulled the plug.

The tower? The tower? Rapunzel, Rapunzel.

But, as I stated much earlier on in this narrative, this ain't about writer's block. It's about method.

So yeah, I haven't been writing. I haven't been performing. I haven't been out partying or curling up in a ball and crying myself to sleep.

I have been banging away at every little idea that cropped into my head. For better or worse, I've been working without producing anything.

So yeah, I'm in a slump.

But there's a little secret I know.

Passed down from oral histories, Rolling Stone interviews, and parental guidance.

First, clean your room. Eat some fruit. Go for a run. Pick up another instrument. Pick up another art form. Be nice to your wife. Cook an amazing meal. Let it go. Feel human again.

I think what I'm doing is a good idea. I think it will produce some of my best work yet and here's how I know.

Years ago, I was in a little musical.

It was my first lead role.

I thought my excrement existed without odor.

During a matinee, one of my new acting coaches was in the audience. I wanted to impress the hell out of him. Make him think I was the coolest kid in school. He wore jeans and cowboy boots to class, smoked in the theatre, and was the kind of professional actor I knew I would be some day.

But I had a horrible show. I didn't forget my lines, or miss any entrances, I just didn't feel like I was at the peak of performance.

After the show, he came up and we began talking. He asked me how the show went and I stupidly told him that I felt lousy about it.

Then he asked me how I dealt with it.

I, of course thinking how volcanic my excrement was, when into a long diatribe highlighting my professional ability to pull it all together in the end.

He shrugged and went away, fully aware that my monologue was pucky at best . . .

. . . miserably whiny self conscience twaddle at worst.

Hindsight really sucks sometimes.

He couldn't have cared less about the show, or me for that matter.

What he wanted, as any good teacher might, is to have the opportunity to instill a little bit of wisdom, and he knew I was way too full of myself to listen.

Had I not been such a schmuck, I might have learned in just a few conversations what it took me another decade to learn.

So yeah, I've once again found myself without a magical key to creation. But there is a secret of gaining momentum. Of pushing Newton's body at rest into motion.

Give yourself the peace of mind that comes from organizing your physical space. Fuel your body with good stuff. Get your body strong. Show a little fragility. And listen.