I hate the loneliness of creativity.  I want to join the party not be the one creating it.  These Mariah Carey lyrics perfectly encapsulate the drama of my leaving Edinburgh to work in London, after outing my fraudulent ex. Who wouldn’t love the line “and don’t keep calling from your momma’s house.” as the ultimate esmaculation when you’ve a deluded view of your success.  The girl’s still got it when it comes to nailing catchy tunes.  I just hope I have too.

People often tell me I should write a book of my experiences. My writing style is precise and clipped so blogging/copywriting I enjoy – autobiography not so much.  Besides why write a book when life’s momentous events can be captured in a song?  Especially wry humorous ones.

Sometimes when I write blog posts I end up writing songs.  I always leave the lyrics for 6 months or so, then return to them cold to check they still have resonance.  Occasionally they do and those are the ones I adapt hoping there’s a struggling singer who’ll jump at the chance of recording them.

I hate performing.  Ending my fledgling singing career’s not something I regret.  Dance and choreography was what I wanted to pursue. Height and academic ability soon put paid to that.  But now I’m older and past caring what people make of me I’ve booked professional singing lessons to give me back my confidence.  I can still hold a tune, though admittedly I’m rusty.  And 3 years ago I wrote a song I can’t get out of my head.

I had a gentle operatic quality to my voice when I was younger.  The songs I write require gritty interpretation and considerable vocal ability I sadly don’t possess.  Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey were my idols and as a clever bookish child, reluctant to take on challenges my mother or school weren’t supportive of I was never going to get out of going to university.  Which is just as well.  Who would listen to me when they could be listening to Whitney?

These are not my lyrics.  I just love them.

Whe I break, I break