Dylan calls the creative process “a funny thing,” because it leaves people isolated and vulnerable. “Keypads and joysticks can be like millstones around your neck, or they can be supporting players; either one, you’re the judge,” he says. “Creativity is a mysterious thing. It visits who it wants to visit, when it wants to.”
In other excerpts, Dylan shares that people of “weak character” don’t make good songwriters. He also provides this expansive definition: “A great song mutates, makes quantum leaps, turns up again like the prodigal son. It crosses genres…A great song is the sum of all things. It could be the turning point in your life…It’s timeless and ageless. It’s a field holler, it’s blood and thunder, it’s on easy street and in the land of milk and honey. It’s everywhere. It can be sung by a lead singer or a backup vocalist; it’s non-discriminating. A great song touches you in secret places, strikes your innermost being, and sinks in.”
