Janice Crow

Reflections Nov ‘09

I’m strange. Hard to believe, I know. But it’s true. Three hundred and sixty-two days a year I live in a world that doesn’t get me. I’m a songwriter. For those 362 days I live among people who, when they hear that I’m excited about a “cut”, think I have a new hairdresser. To them a “track” is where the horses run, and a “bridge” just gets you over the river.

They don’t understand why I stay up long after the family has turned in for the night to be alone with my thoughts and pour words out on paper like a gardener watering a row of zinnias. They think it’s odd that I scribble on napkins right in the middle of dinner and find inspiration in the offhand comments of another diner. It’s not that I eavesdrop. It’s just that I…..okay, maybe I do eavesdrop, but people say the most interesting things if you listen with a songwriter’s ear.

You hear someone say, “I can’t stay here any longer” and although you understand they’re pressed for time and need to make a hasty exit, your mind starts spinning. “I can’t stay here any longer”. There’s a rhythm to the words, and soon I’m fitting a stranger’s remarks into a song about leaving this old sin-sick world for a better place.

My (non-songwriting) friends think I’m weird to drum out a rhythm on a desk that accompanies the melody that’s swirling in my head. They are amused that I read CD liner notes like the evening paper and that I must know who wrote the great new ballad on the latest Brian Free & Assurance project. As the punk said to Clint Eastwood, “I gots to know.”

I’m sure that my husband has long since lost his fascination with my following every song that plays on our car stereo with, “that’s a Gerald Crabb song”, “that’s one of Joel Lindsey’s, or “oh, that’s my absolute favorite Marty Funderburk song”. I’m sure his interest has waned in my counting Diane Warren songs as the credits roll to our date night movies.

For those 362 days a year I live in a world where few people know who Bill and Gloria Gaither are. If you mentioned Dottie Rambo, Kenny and Ronnie Hinson or Rusty Goodman it wouldn’t raise so much as an eyebrow. Fewer still will recognize names like Mosie Lister, Ira Stanphill or Stuart Hamblen.

But for three days, three glorious days in October, I am surrounded by people who get it. Those three days you can find me at the Write About Jesus Workshop in St. Charles, MO, the brain child of award winning songwriter Sue Smith. It’s a fabulous songwriting school that has convened every year for a decade now and is probably gospel music’s best kept secret.

No where else can you sit down one-on-one with gospel music’s best and brightest industry professionals, have them critique a song and give you honest feedback on the good, the bad, and the ugly of your beloved tune. No where else will you have the opportunity to showcase your ability at an Alumni Café where your song is heard by a captive audience. No where else can you be taught by incredible writers, including some of those I’ve named, how to make your song really sing.

Write About Jesus offers tremendous growth opportunities and a myriad of classes that cover everything from Finding your Inspiration to Music Business 101. The privilege to sit under great teaching by successful and award-winning writers, publishers and producers is incredible and the networking options are endless. If you’re a lyricist looking for a great melody writer, this is a great place to connect. If you’re a musician looking for a lyricist, here’s your country.

Of all the accolades I could bestow upon the workshop, though, I guess the best would be the sense of community. I have made friendships that I truly believe will have lifelong implications. Arriving every year at WAJ, as it has been nicknamed, is like coming home for a family reunion; but here the family resemblance is not red hair and freckles. It’s not grandpa’s chin or grandma’s overbite. It’s a love of putting pen to paper and finding fresh ways to tell the world about our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We are a nation, if you will. We are WAJonians and proud of it.

“If this wonderful annual conclave has already passed, then why are you telling me now?”, you may ask. Excellent question. I’m telling you now so that you will have nearly a year to make your plans, set your vacation and arrange for Aunt Hattie to come in and watch the kids so that you can take the best step ever in your songwriting career. Come be a WAJonian.

I’ll be lookin’ for ya. ( http://www.writeaboutjesus.com )

Janice