Thank you to everyone who preordered my memoir, THE LOST VOICE! It will be out May 20th. AKA 12 DAYS FROM NOW. HOLY SHIT.
I’ve released 8 records with 3 of my musical projects and travelled the globe as a touring member of Vampire Weekend, but The Lost Voice is my biggest creative undertaking if you count the sheer number of hours poured into it and the raw vulnerability of the story. Unlike songwriting, there's no veil of ambiguity to hide behind in memoir. This book feels like the biggest personal risk I’ve ever taken.
I love that we call it a book release. As though a flock of stories, caged inside of me, will finally fly free.
Completing this long-term labor of love taught me a few lessons which I want to concretize here for both my future self and for all of you creatives who want to make a project so ambitious that it seems absurd and/or impossible.
1. WORTHINESS IS A GIFT YOU GIVE YOURSELF.
Many of my favorite artists — Emily Dickinson, Nick Drake, Elizabeth Cotten, and Van Gogh — were not recognized or rewarded in their lifetimes for their art. Thank goodness their process wasn’t contingent on external validation.
Being a real artist is a choice you make, not a gift granted to you by external forces.
Still Life With Two Sunflowers - Van Gogh
2. OTHER PEOPLE CAN’T SEE YOUR VISION EARLY ON
Before the book sold, I explained the concept to a famous artist friend who replied, “Maybe that will help some other people who also have Spasmodic Dysphonia!” as though nobody else in the world would read a story about a singer losing their singing voice.
Around that time, my Dad (who loves and supports me a zillion ways) expressed concern that I’d been writing for hours a day. “You’re not a proven author,” he said. “But you are a proven songwriter. Why don’t you pitch pop songs to Lady Gaga?”
The writer Jenny Offill tells writers to “wrap yourself in a cloak of assumed loserdom.” If you approach your project with the understanding that it might never achieve external validation, you preemptively release that pressure of success, which frees you to focus on full-immersion in the work.
The desk where I wrote most of The Lost Voice, plus storage containers of journals.
LET YOUR OBSESSIONS OVERTAKE YOU
The reason I couldn’t stop writing was because I’d seeded the book with questions that I was desperate to answer for myself. How do artists cultivate their voices? If you lose who you think you are, how do you rebuild a new sense of identity? How did coming of age as a woman in our culture affect my voice and my ability to speak my truth? Why was fame and success so dangerously alluring to me that I’d choose it above true love, family commitments, and other more grounded and stable joys?
Why was I always searching for some idealized version of myself, always out of reach? Why was true self-compassion so elusive?
Answering those questions began to feel essential to building a new kind of life.
FOCUS ON THIS QUESTION: “HOW MUCH DID THE ACT OF WRITING CHANGE YOU TODAY?”
Up and coming songwriters often ask, “How do I know my song is good? Sure, I like it, but will other people like it?”
I always say a version of this: If the act of writing changes you, you’re probably making something that will resonate.
If you can write a song or a story that comforts you, eases your grief, boosts your spirit, or makes you dance, it’s likely to affect someone else too. You are your #1 audience member. Crack yourself up. Enchant yourself. Surprise yourself.
IT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO FEEL GOOD ALL THE TIME
I recently heard a marathon runner say that training feels great 1/3 of the time, feels okay 1/3 of the time, and feels brutal 1/3 of the time. Hard relate.
The reason a creative practice is worth it even on ‘bad’ days is because the third of the time that feels great is THE. BEST. FEELING. IN. THE. WORLD. It’s like a mashup of tearing into a smash burger when you’re ravenous, diving into a cold lake, having an orgasm, and finally taking off tight boots after a ten mile hike.
My favorite meme for hard days
THE ENERGY HAS TO COME FROM SOMEWHERE
If you want to complete a big creative project but your life is already full, the energy has to be borrowed from another place. For me, it usually means socializing less or postponing errand-y / admin-y life stuff. The more organized my creative work is, the messier my kitchen is. Laundry gathers in piles. My inbox piles up with unread messages. Suddenly, I realize that the only food left in the house is a bag of frozen peas. Great signs.
COLLABORATORS ARE ESSENTIAL (WAIT FOR THE RIGHT ONES)
Six months before The Lost Voice sold to Harper One, I sent a writing sample to a fancy editor who’d been a longtime listener of my music. She replied saying that she loved the writing, but insisted that nobody would ever publish a book that took place during the pandemic. She said I should re-work the story to avoid the pandemic completely, which would’ve killed the entire framework of the book. I was so disheartened.
Months later, the story found its home with my editor, Rakesh Satyal, who was a singer who’d also lost his voice because of bowed vocal cords. Everything about the literary team felt right. He agreed that the book had to begin in the pandemic, then move into the past and future from there.
If you’ve completed a verging-on-delusional creative project, what are your creative mantras? If you want to finish a creative project but haven’t reached the finish line, where and why are you getting stuck? I’d love to hear in the comments.
Thank you again for your support. This book is so close to my heart that I recently Freudian slipped and referred to my book release party as my wedding. Ha.
For those who want to preorder (or who already have preordered), please remember to upload your receipt here to take part in some fun preorder giveaways. I can't wait for you to read The Lost Voice on May 20th!
If you’re in any of these cities, please join for a book release party. All the ticket links are here.
Big love,
Greta
All of this resonates sooooo much. Your words cut into my heart today. I’ve been really trying to lean into removing the burden of a conventional idea of success, that being real and just making songs because they’re fun and nourishing and exciting to create even though 1/3 of the time I want to throw them into the fires of Mount Doom shows up. Thanks for reminding all of us creators that the 1/3 of the time it feels like the best feeling ever is worth it ❤️
Ohhh I love all these thoughts so much!!! SHE IS ALMOST RELEASED