Is it Kind? Is it Necessary?
Rabbit Room favorite Melanie Penn wrote these kind, necessary words on her blog recently and let us re-post them here. Melanie’s album Wake Up Love (produced by Ben Shive) is available in the store, and we’re certain you’ll love it. –The Proprietor
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I’ve been thinking about words. I’ve heard that the two questions below are good ones to ask before saying anything. In life-in-general, I agree. If I were to ask these two questions before speaking I’d probably spare myself a lot of conflict and a lot of gossipy nothingness that I tend to regret.
But what about as an artist? What about the artist’s life-in-general? Some would argue that art isn’t necessary (they’re wrong) and some would argue that art can be unkind (it can be). A dear friend recently stumbled upon something written about him on the internet. It was hurtful and scathing and a little bit true. It was a result of a lot of mistakes. It was a laundry list of complaints written in the name of “art.”
Talking with him about it made me wonder about songs and the lyrics to songs. What makes a lyric art? And what makes a lyric little more than a venting of personal frustrations and feelings? I can’t help but think that every word–no matter the setting–should be justified and weighed to see if it will do damage. I can’t help but think that artists have a unique call to be careful with words. Is each one necessary? Is each one kind?
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
We must be thinking in a similiar vein, Melanie. I blogged today about having to be extremely careful how I use words; I’m a writer, by definition I use words every day, and words are not playthings to be thrown about foolishly.
I’ve learned that the words I use to create my stories, blogs and novels need to be watched. Some words may be justified, others not. Am I ever justified in using a “bad” word in my fiction? Am I ever justified, is it ever necessary to be explicit with sexual content? I’ve had to think hard about this. I’ve concluded that I must weigh each word and ask, WHY have I included this word (four letter or otherwise)? Am I doing it to provoke, irritate, offend, or make an important point?
Thanks for the great post, Melanie, and thanks to the Rabbit Room folks for posting your post.
Interesting. I have been thinking about my words a lot this summer at camp. We set goals as a staff and the second goal was to use edifying language. I have often wondered what would happen if we were as sharp and clever with our compliments and encouragements as we are with our pokes, jabs, and insults to one another. I set out to find out. It’s like discovering the way you have been playing an instrument all this time was incorrect and you stumble trying to relearn it. Most of my feeble attempts at complimenting came out as awkward or unintelligible. But even the attempts felt like they had more value than the words I threw out so carelessly before.
Thank you for the post and thank you for such a great album. I have enjoyed it thoroughly. Even made sure that two of the songs got some air time at camp this summer.
Hi Nathaniel & Laura - didn’t realize this was posted already! I was caught up in the Counting Stars excitement!!!
Nathaniel - that is such a great point about being as clever with our praise as we our with our jabs. Wow.
I’ve also been thinking about destructive phrases we say so casually, like “(insert item) is just KILLING me.” or “I’m starving to death.” Really? “Killing”? “Death”? It takes my breath away when I consider that there actually is a lot of killing going around - and a lot of death - however one minor annoyance or my missing a snack hardly qualifies as either.
Laura - I have one song that is a bit of a put-down to someone and it still makes me cringe a little bit. I wonder if I’ll sing it anymore … it’s a good song actually, and captures a sentiment everyone can relate to - but still … is it kind? Is it necessary?
OK, Melanie, you and I ARE thinking along the same lines!
Earlier this week, I was contemplating how casually we use words like “killing” “starving” etc. I’d heard an instance of using the word “suicide” to describe a particular action: not a literal sucide, but someone doing something that the other person thought was self-destructive because he/she disagreed with the action.
(I once had a professor tell me that I’d almost “committed academic suicide” by taking so many classes in one term.)
No one who has ever contemplated suicide or lost someone to suicide would use this word in a joking or inaccurate way. I think we can do a lot of damage by throwing around terms like this in this way. Sigh: I wish I could ALWAYS remember this truth!
these are great questions and a great rule of thumb in day to day life for sure. i also find myself asking the “necessary” one especially when it comes to writing—any and all forms—for work or for pleasure. i remember reading something francine prose wrote when it came to the art of writing, and she said, “put every word on trial for its life.” if only i used the same consideration when speaking. i think i would do a lot more listening then speaking and probably be a lot better off!
I hope it’s not too late to comment … for the first time no less! I just want to say thank you for this post. I REALLY appreciate the thoughtful insight you share. I don’t write songs, but stories … books. I deeply desire to write considerate words of LIFE and appreciate this encouragement to do so.
I hope it’s not ever too late to comment. Given what we’re talking about, I’d think that if we deem something worth saying, that it would hopefully be worth reading, in its proper context, no matter what the time frame.
Nathaniel, I think what you talked about, as Melanie has noted, is something that needs to be said more often. I had a professor once who referred to this as “nitpicking for the good,” consciously looking for ways to build others up, and it’s stuck with me ever since. And it doesn’t come easy, as you’ve recounted so well, but I love the way that it’s like the redemption of something in us that so often causes such damage.
Isn’t that kind of attitude a great testimony?
Melanie and Laura–your second set of comments reminds me of a conversation I had with my four-year-old this week. We have been talking a lot about word choice, why some words are inappropriate, etc. My little boy has a common, but excessive obsession with guns, beating up bad guys, etc and we’ve told him not to use the word kill when playing. Then my husband or I nonchanlantly used it in a similar phrase, “This is killing me.” I can’t even recall why we said it now. So of course my sweet, know-it-all little boy points out, “Mommy, don’t say ‘kill’ , it’s not a nice word.” Gut check. Heart check. How important our choice of words are.
I am a queen of spiteful words used in defense of my shaky self-confidence. When my husband and I argue, I fire out insults without even thinking in order to “protect myself” or perhaps, to provoke him, subconsciously. I am reminded of the lyric “after the last brutal jab from a poisoned tongue.” That’s me. If there was anything I needed to work on more, although, of course there is more than one thing, it would be the choice of my words in such situations, and even in conversations of everyday life. Thank God there is love and grace even after these things are said.
Thanks for this post, it was a great reminder, an accountability for me to put more thought into what I am saying. Nathaniel, it is now my prayer to use more”edifying language” to build others up every day. And I will most certainly start asking myself, “Is it kind, is it necessary?”
Hey everybody! Now I hope I’m not too late to comment tho I probably am. I’ve been somewhat offline so that I can write songs this week. So far I have 2 down which is like lightning speed for me.
I really enjoyed reading these comments, and love the idea of “nitpicking for the good.” If Christ Himself is the Word, and if in the beginning was the WORD, then certainly our meagre verbal offerings have significance. And I bet that significance is eternal. Yikes. Here’s to proceeding with caution.
This is something I deeply consider when writing a song as well as any short commentary. I am not a seasoned writer and am in fact very insecure about anything I write, knowing that I flunked my English class in High School. But there is something in me that is driven to pen thoughts or create song, so I plod with all the baggage of literary, grammatical and insufficient muse in all my works.
Your comment about “words” and how we flippantly or loosely use them, pricks me every time I pen a thought, etc… Having this lack of experience makes me consider every word. I feel as a person fully clothed, but as I write and start using a word to describe my feelings or situation, I get this vulnerable feeling that I am undressing and by the time I am done I am stoke naked.
I squirm and writhe for covering and yet I must take the chance that someone out there understands at what I am trying to say. If I were to give into my insecurities, I would never try my hand at anything. I am driven to fight this monster, even if I make the wrong choice in word or thought. Failing forward is my hope. But I take every word and ponder it’s meaning in hopes that I understand it so as to motivate thought or feeling for someone else. I hope this makes sense.
I write life’s experiences in song, hopefully giving hope and encouragement to those that are struggling or have struggled with the same thing. Also, I hope to give out platter filled with condiments of laughter, joy, conviction and love. There is no guarantee that it please their pallets, but it is there for anyone who has an appetite.
Thanks again for your comments which has inspired me to continue to ruminate on every word written.
God Bless You,
In love, care and hope,
Paula Jacobson
Paula: The last part of your comment reminded me of something I found here a while back, though I can’t seem to find it again. I think it was earlier this year that there was a ’song-of-the-day’ post about Bill Malonee featuring his song Skin (done with the Vigilantes of Love), which is generally about the same things you were talking about - courage in the face of vulnerability, etc. I still consider that song very valuable, and well-written. I’m not sure if you read that post, but it might be worth your time to find the song and give it a listen.