In the past few months, I’ve been finding it harder and harder to write fiction. Op-eds seem to write themselves in a flash, like some sort of uncontrollable response to intolerable circumstances. Non-fiction pieces also come easy when there are so many heart-crushing events spreading like wildfire. But short stories have become difficult: the emotions and associations are still there, but when the reality I live in is broken, it’s much harder to invent a different one that maintains continuity and logic. The stories start as fluidly as they used to, but somewhere along the way, they start to dissolve and eventually drop me back down on the unsteady ground.
Which is why, about a month ago, when I got a phone call from Arkadi Duchin, an immensely talented Israeli songwriter and performer who wanted to meet, I said yes. Chatting with a music legend sounded a lot better than making another attempt to write a story that would probably start out full steam ahead and end with a fizzle.
When I got to Arkadi’s studio the next morning, he was waiting with coffee and a delicious sandwich to help the coffee go down smoothly. “Listen,” Arkadi said with a sigh, “we’re living in tough times. And in tough times, alone is no good. We have to create together.” I told Arkadi I couldn’t agree more, and that it would be a huge honor and a great pleasure for me to collaborate with him on something, anything, but we come from different realms: he’s a singer who writes his own songs, and I’m an author. And so, I explained, as much as I admired his work, I couldn’t see how we could create anything together, but I’d love to get a selfie with him if that was all right.
Arkadi shook his head. “Etgar,” he said, “this is not the time for alone. Come on, let’s do something together.” I reiterated that I thought it was a great idea but I just didn’t know what I could contribute. “Write me a song,” he said.
“A song?” I repeated. “I’d gladly write you a hundred songs, if I only knew how. I know how to write, but not with rhyme or meter.”
Arkadi sighed again. “Etgar,” he said, thumping a copy of one of my books on the table, “this is not the time to be evasive. I’ve been reading you since forever. Come on, sit down and write me a song already.”
There was something so persuasive about the way Arkadi spoke that, as soon as I got home, I wrote him a song. And then another one. And, strangely, something about rhyming and structuring the verses and chorus made everything straightforward. For the past couple of weeks, while I’ve been touring the U.S., songwriting has turned out to be a soothing way to end my days of running around and doing events. One song a day. Not all of them are good. Not all of them make sense. But when I send one of the better ones to Arkadi, I can feel the togetherness he was talking about: a recipient on the other side of the WhatsApp message takes the undercooked idea that I scribbled on an iPhone note and breathes life into it by throwing in a melody and lots of soul.
Don’t worry, this isn’t going to turn into a song newsletter. Because even – or especially – when things are hard, a writer must write stories. But for now, I’d like to thank Arkadi for helping to make nights spent in hotel rooms around Florida and the East Coast a lot less lonely. And to show my appreciation, here’s another song.
Loads
Look at me A big fat chunk I drink what I drink I eat all the junk Look at you My full moon of a wife Year after year Larger than life We both have loads But loads of what? Of pain, of loathing Of soul and light Look at me The news makes me laugh The ads make me cry I’m one big gaffe Look at you Singing to the birds Feeding stray cats I write you all these words We both have loads Of wanting solace Loads of wanting more Or less
Translated by Jessica Cohen
*Hebrew version link here
So sweet. I like it!
Have you ever considered Plan B - being a poet? Or is that exclusive to your father-in-law.
And, BTW - you should tour the West coast. Bring your son and you won't be lonely. Great suntan vibes in California, too.
Just sayin' . . .
Etgar, translation or not, I can’t help but think that when you wrote this beautiful song, jostling in your mind (subconscious mind?) were the lyrics of The Weight - the great song by The Band - “Take a load off Fanny . . .” - basically about sharing our burdens in life, with others.