Dear Anastasia and Fletch,

It may well be that God is in songs in so much as God is in all things, and it may also be that God is of songs, by which I mean songs have an implicit moral bearing – they are in and of themselves good, therefore of God – but are songs from God? Sadly, not in my own experience, Anastasia. My good friend, Chris Martin, once told me that when he needs a new song he asks the cosmos and God sends him one. Most of us lowly songwriters are not afforded such a largesse. I can only assume God is a Coldplay fan because from where I stand, God does not send songs, dispatch, deliver or gift them; or if He does, He’s sure not sending them to me.The great W. B. Yeats summed up the position of the poet or songwriter beautifully –

I must lie down where all the ladders start

In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart

To write a song requires a reckoning. We roll up our sleeves and through rigorous application encounter the disastrous and mortifying condition of our interior selves. We exert poetic order upon the turmoil and chaos. We hew and hone and bring structure to the stricken heart; we codify our weary souls, giving form to the blues.

Eventually, if we are lucky, our songs emerge from this grim business, and we send those winged and singing things to draw God forth and attempt to animate His presence in the world. ‘Behold!’ we say, amazed at the distance travelled from our mess to the moon. ‘Behold!’

Those drawn to do something artistic are often among the most broken, most flawed, or most sinful. Perhaps that perpetual state of inner excavation,

Laying down where all the ladders start

places us, if not closest to God, then forever ascending the ladders in His direction. We understand the dark potential of the world’s heart because we have seen inside our own. In this way, artists are His faithful emissaries. We have the information. We know.

‘Outstanding!’ you may say, Fletch. ‘That’s for me!’ ‘I’m gonna quit my fucking job!’ ‘I’m gonna tell my boss to shove it!’ But, before you rush into anything, remember that creating art, like many things of value, comes at a cost – and confronting one’s own self can be the most challenging and fearful thing you’ll ever do. Fletch, I wish you luck in whatever you choose to do.

Love, Nick