Author: TomsWrite

Sometimes I have to pinch myself and remind myself it isn’t Kansas anymore–or wherever I came from way, way back, when I formed the belief that everyone shot straight from the hip, or at least straight.

Last week, one of my Advanced Class students said something which has bothered me ever since. It’s not that I haven’t heard it before–in fact, I’ve heard it much too often–but usually from business executives, and jaded ones at that.

The whole thing started when I commented that a number of songs on the radio recently have sounded quite a lot like another song called, “Old Time Rock & Roll.” The student defended them with the statement that they were making money from these clones. I suggested that integrity might enter the picture somewhere (he was a new student, so I was more tactful than I might have been on his 4th week). To this he responded with the line in question, “Integrity doesn’t pay the bills.”

First of all, I can understand the attention a person might have on paying the bills, especially in this economy. But I feel it’s such an incredibly dangerous viewpoint for an artist to have, I wanted to address it–or undress it–publicly. The student who said it is talented and bright, and I don’t think he actually embraces this as a heartfelt philosophy. I think it was an offhanded remark. But since he said it, here goes.

Check out the definition of “integrity.” It’s not just honesty or incorruptibility. It’s also “wholeness,” “soundness.” It’s in the writer’s nature to put things together to form a whole–and that’s the main meaning of “integrate.” I’ve observed many writers–colleagues, mentors, students–some hugely successful, some total unknowns. But one thing I’ve noticed is that the ones who are doing it because they love it and have something to express are generally the ones being successful at it. The ones who got into it to make money usually never did. It’s sort of like a guy who takes a girl out just to go to bed with her and can’t figure out why he never gets to.

It’s not that you’re getting punished for being mercenary, or anything else so linearly Puritan. It’s simply that you’re coming from the wrong place and that’s where your attention will be–on the money, not on the music. You’ll make decisions based on that; your passion will be centered somewhere away from the song. It’s like trying to get turned on by the person you married for money. You’ve created your own prison.

Now somewhere, some songwriter is reading this who has made a lot of money with his/her art and he/you may be smiling. But think back to when you first started writing. Weren’t you doing it for the love of the process, the heat of the communication, the thrill of the music? And when your attention is on writing “something that will sell,“ do you like what you come up with as well as you do when you write because you really want to say something or get that musical idea on tape?

I have heard my producer, Nik Venet, say that even though McDonald’s may be the biggest restaurant chain, one would not ask to meet and compliment the chef there. Similarly, “Citizen Kane” never made its investment back, whereas “Love Story” made millions. But which one do we remember?

In my own experience, songs I wrote from that burning desire to communicate were always my most successful copyrights. And here I’m talking about songwriting–not assignment writing for films or records, because that’s a whole different subject. They are commissioned anyway. I’m referring to those songs that are an extension of who you are as an artist–that you would perform yourself, proudly, if you sing.

“Integrity doesn’t pay the bills“ may be true. But neither does chasing trends, writing at the radio, ripping off other songs, and focusing on writing something that will make a lot of money. To make a lot of money, it has to sell a lot or be played a lot or both. That means lots of people have to hear it and buy it. That means it has to move people when they hear it. Now, if you think you’re good enough to write something that’s going to move all those people, while you’ve got your attention and your passion over there on your bank statement, be my guest. Give it a try. But your craft had better be unbelievably good to pull that one off. And between the time you start and the time your craft is THAT good, there’s a lot of dues paying and songwriting you’ll have to do. So you might just as well do it for the love of it. Maybe you’ll even discover in the process that integrity has fewer bills to pay.

© 1995 Harriet Schock

Harriet Schock wrote the Grammy-nominated standard, “Ain’t No Way To Treat A Lady,” and co-wrote “First Time On A Ferris Wheel,” plus many other songs for records and films. She has seven solo CDs as an artist for which she wrote all the songs. She co-wrote all the songs for the “The New Adventures of Pippi Longstocking” “The Secret Garden” and many other films and TV shows. Harriet teaches Songwriting Classes via Zoom and will return at some point to to teaching around her dining room table. She provides One-on-One Private Consultations, delivers her Online Songwriting Course as well as Song Critiques via e-mail, and teaches at selected Seminars and Workshops. She also showcases songwriters in L.A. as well as performing with her six-piece band. Currently a documentary about her called Hollywood Town – the Harriet Schock story is now available at Fawesome.tv. https://fawesome.tv/movies/10692250/hollywood-town-the-harriet-schock-story

Harriet’s book, Becoming Remarkable: For Songwriters and Those Who Love Songs, can be purchased on her Author page at her HarrietSchock.com.

(Tom: The older I get, the more this principle appeals to me. No idea why. 🙂 )

Centuries ago in Japan, there was a harsh custom said to have come from a local ruler’s decree. Once people reached the age of sixty, they were taken deep into the mountains and left there to die. The ruler believed the elderly were simply “extra mouths to feed” and no longer useful to society.

One day, two brothers carried their aging father up a steep mountain trail. As they walked, they kept hearing a strange cracking sound behind them. Eventually, they realized their father was quietly snapping branches and dropping them along the path.

“Why are you doing that?” the brothers asked.

The old man replied gently, “I’m making sure my sons can find their way home.”

Even as he was being abandoned, he was still thinking about his children.

By sunset, they finally reached the remote mountain peak known as Obasute. The brothers left their father beneath a large tree and began planning their trip home. Instead of taking the same trail back, they decided to explore a different route and enjoy the scenery on the way down.

At first, the unfamiliar path seemed easy enough. But before long, it twisted through the dark forest, dipping downward before climbing sharply upward again. Night fell quickly. Wolves howled in the distance, and owls called from the trees. Though the brothers tried to stay brave, fear soon overtook them.

That was when they remembered the broken branches their father had left behind.

Ashamed of themselves, they hurried back to the place where they had left him. For the first time, they truly understood how deeply their father loved them and how much care he still showed, even in his final moments.

Moonlight filtered through the trees as they found the old man sitting quietly beneath the same tree. The brothers admitted they were lost and begged him to help them find the correct trail home. Their father quickly recognized the proper path and pointed them in the right direction.

But now the brothers could no longer bear the thought of leaving him behind.

Filled with guilt and compassion, they pleaded with their father to return home with them. They decided they would rather disobey the ruler than abandon the man who had spent his entire life caring for them.

The old man resisted at first. He warned them that breaking the law could bring severe punishment. But the brothers refused to listen. They lifted him onto their shoulders and carried him safely back home.

Once there, they secretly prepared a hidden room beneath the floorboards and sheltered their father there. Every day they brought him food and sat with him so he would never feel alone.

About a year later, the ruler issued a challenge to everyone in his lands: create a rope made entirely of ashes.

People struggled day and night, but no one could solve the impossible task.

When the brothers told their hidden father about the problem, he smiled and said the answer was simple. He instructed them to soak straw in salt water, twist it tightly into a rope, and then carefully burn it. The result was a delicate rope made from ash that still held its shape.

The ruler was amazed.

Soon after, he presented another challenge: thread a string through every curve of a spiral seashell.

Again, the brothers turned to their father for wisdom.

The old man asked for an ant, a long thread, and a few grains of cooked rice. He tied the thread to the ant and placed it inside the shell after making a tiny opening at the pointed end. Then he placed the rice near the shell’s wider opening.

Drawn by the scent of food, the ant slowly traveled through every twist of the shell until it emerged on the other side, pulling the thread behind it.

Once again, the ruler was astonished.

“There are truly wise people living in this land,” he declared.

At that point, the brothers confessed the truth: the wisdom had come from their elderly father, the very kind of person society had cast aside.

The ruler was deeply moved.

“Older people are a treasure of wisdom,” he proclaimed.

From that day forward, the cruel practice of abandoning the elderly in the mountains was forbidden. The brothers were rewarded for their courage and devotion to their father.

This old Japanese story carries a message that still matters today in both the United States and Canada. Too often, modern society measures people only by productivity, speed, or physical strength. But older generations carry something equally valuable — experience, resilience, practical knowledge, and perspective that can’t be learned overnight.

Respect for elders begins at home. Children learn how to treat grandparents by watching how their parents treat them. If kindness, patience, and appreciation are modeled in the family, those values are usually passed down to the next generation.

Many families today don’t abandon elderly relatives physically, but emotional neglect can be just as painful. Some seniors may live in the same house as their family and still spend most of their time isolated and ignored.

This story reminds us that aging does not erase a person’s worth. In many ways, the wisdom of older generations becomes even more valuable with time.

“Find something you’re passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it.”
Julia Child – Chef (1912-2004)