Once upon a time, when I was more of a blend between musician and novelist, I decided to embark on a melodic journey that would traverse each zodiac sign. The idea was to write about each and how they view the world, or from the perspective of the sign about themselves and how they fit into a creative narrative. An ambitious project to be sure, the writing and music stretched me to my innovative limits as I laid track after track and scratched out each line.
In rare moments, some songs became the recipient of soothing, dulcet tones of a single acoustic guitar, songs like Cancer. One song with a rumbling base-led riff and sharp, rambling drums became the cornerstone of Gemini, while Leo received clear, crisp electric guitars conveying a somberness with bright, contrasting tones. Still, others expressed an angst against age, driven by uniqueness and individuality, to rebel against fate. The collection included a pulse-pounding, hyper-tempo, metal-punk Sagittarius, screaming, sweeping riffs of Pieces, and the powerful progressions of an ardent Aries, but not all undertakings come to fruition.
Alas, the Zodiac Project remains incomplete, though I may share some of what I did write. In hindsight, how can I pinpoint my exact reasons for failure to follow through? Perhaps my novel-writing took an upswing? Maybe I set it aside to focus on my college and get finished? I started a new job during that timeframe, so it could also have played a factor. Though despite not finishing, many great things came from the undertaking, songs like The Sapling of Vocation (The Tree of Destiny), Prose of the Ardent, And They Just Go…, and more. I guess the point I am trying to make is that not every “failure” should be viewed as such. So, too, must we examine our writing, poetry, and songs in the same light. Never discard. Perhaps rewrite, modify, and edit, but never destroy. We destroy ourselves enough to write, to “open a vein and bleed,” as Red Smith aptly articulated. I’m not advocating to seek out validation nor protect your babies, but maybe that half-molded thought will breathe new life into you years down the road. What can it hurt to click save and let it be?