How to Turn Prose and Poetry into Song.

This is simply matter of judicious editing. Start by choosing an aspect of the story which stands out. It may be an attitude, dilemma or character. This will be your main hook, anchor or theme. Next, hunt around the story for details which support your theme. These are the gory details, the evidence you'll use to convince your audience. Finally, test it on an audience.

We'll go through this together, step by step, and I'll use 'Snow White' to illustrate as it's a well known story with tons of angles and opportunities for fun. I'll be using the original Grimm Brothers' text below and there's an easily accessible plot summary here should you need it.

Snow White Plot at Wikipedia

There are tons of issues and angles to play with in this tale, not least, the whole question of whether or not the audience is meant to question their own morality. But let's jump in and see what it's about.

Context.

Just before diving into the text, I always take a few moments to consider the context of what I'm going to write because it will influence how I judge the story.

For my part - I'm looking for either a slightly angry rock song or a philosophical satirical number. This is not to put a straightjacket on my writing - rather to keep it focused - otherwise it will try to encapsulate too many ideas.

Here's what I 'm gonna do.

1. Discover a theme.
2. Develop 3 verses of 4 lines each by engaging in gory details.
3. Deliver the finished item to an audience.

How to discover a theme - what's driving the narrative ?

Here, in the Grimm Brothers' original, It's not as long as you'd think, 3000 words. I've simply underlined anything which might lead to a convincing theme or any detail which warrants literary observation.

SNOW-WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS ( 1812 )

IT WAS the middle of winter, and the snow-flakes were falling like feathers from the sky, and a Queen sat at her window working, and her embroidery-frame was of ebony. And as she worked, gazing at times out on the snow, she pricked her finger, and there fell from it three drops of blood on the snow. And when she saw how bright and red it looked, she said to herself, “Oh that I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and hair as black as the wood of the embroidery frame!” Not very long after she had a daughter, with a skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony, and she was named Snow-white. And when she was born the Queen died.

After a year had gone by the King took another wife, a beautiful woman, but proud and overbearing, and she could not bear to be surpassed in beauty by any one. She had a magic looking-glass, and she used to stand before it, and look in it, and say, “Looking glass upon the wall, Who is fairest of us all?"

And the looking-glass would answer,

“You are fairest of them all.”

And she was contented, for she knew that the looking-glass spoke the truth.

Now, Snow-white was growing prettier and prettier, and when she was seven years old she was as beautiful as day, far more so than the Queen herself. So one day when the Queen went to her mirror and said, “Looking-glass upon the wall, Who is fairest of us all?"

It answered,

“Queen, you are full fair, ‘tis true, But Snow-white fairer is than you."

This gave the Queen a great shock, and she became yellow and green with envy, and from that hour her heart turned against Snow-white, and she hated her.

And envy and pride like ill weeds grew in her heart higher every day, until she had no peace day or night. At last she sent for a huntsman, and said, “Take the child out into the woods, so that I may set eyes on her no more. You must put her to death, and bring me her heart for a token.”

The huntsman consented, and led her away; but when he drew his cutlass to pierce Snow-white’s innocent heart, she began to weep, and to say, “Oh, dear huntsman, do not take my life; I will go away into the wild wood, and never come home again.” And as she was so lovely the huntsman had pity on her, and said, “Away with you then, poor child”; for he thought the wild animals would be sure to devour her, and it was as if a stone had been rolled away from his heart when he did not put her to death. Just at that moment a young wild boar came running by, so he caught and killed it, and taking out its heart, he brought it to the Queen for a token. And it was salted and cooked, and the wicked woman ate it up, thinking that there was an end of Snow-white.

Now, when the poor child found herself quite alone in the wild woods, she felt full of terror, even of the very leaves on the trees, and she did not know what to do for fright. Then she began to run over the sharp stones and through the thorn bushes, and the wild beasts after her, but they did her no harm. She ran as long as her feet would carry her; and when the evening drew near she came to a little house, and she went inside to rest. Everything there was very small, but as pretty and clean as possible. There stood the little table ready laid, and covered with a white cloth, and seven little plates, and seven knives and forks, and drinkingcups. By the wall stood seven little beds, side by side, covered with clean white quilts. Snow-white, being very hungry and thirsty, ate from each plate a little porridge and bread, and drank out of each little cup a drop of wine, so as not to finish up one portion alone. After that she felt so tired that she lay down on one of the beds, but it did not seem to suit her; one was too long, another too short, but at last the seventh was quite right; and so she lay down upon it, committed herself to Heaven, and fell asleep.

When it was quite dark, the masters of the house came home. They were seven dwarfs, whose occupation was to dig underground among the mountains.

When they had lighted their seven candles, and it was quite light in the little house, they saw that some one must have been in, as everything was not in the same order in which they left it. The first said, “Who has been sitting in my little chair?” The second said, “Who has been eating from my little plate?” The third said, “Who has been taking my little loaf?” The fourth said, “Who has been tasting my porridge?” The fifth said, “Who has been using my little fork?” The sixth said, “Who has been cutting with my little knife?” The seventh said, “Who has been drinking from my little cup?”

Then the first one, looking round, saw a hollow in his bed, and cried, “Who has been lying on my bed?” And the others came running, and cried, “Some one has been on our beds too!” But when the seventh looked at his bed, he saw little Snow-white lying there asleep. Then he told the others, who came running up, crying out in their astonishment, and holding up their seven little candles to throw a light upon Snow-white.

“O goodness! O gracious!” cried they, “what beautiful child is this?” and were so full of joy to see her that they did not wake her, but let her sleep on. And the seventh dwarf slept with his comrades, an hour at a time with each, until the night had passed. When it was morning, and Snow-white awoke and saw the seven dwarfs, she was very frightened; but they seemed quite friendly, and asked her what her name was, and she told them; and then they asked how she came to be in their house.

And she related to them how her step-mother had wished her to be put to death, and how the huntsman had spared her life, and how she had run the whole day long, until at last she had found their little house.

Then the dwarfs said, “If you will keep our house for us, and cook, and wash, and make the beds, and sew and knit, and keep everything tidy and clean, you may stay with us, and you shall lack nothing.”

“With all my heart,” said Snow-white; and so she stayed, and kept the house in good order. In the morning the dwarfs went to the mountain to dig for gold; in the evening they came home, and their supper had to be ready for them. All the day long the maiden was left alone, and the good little dwarfs warned her, saying, “Beware of your step-mother, she will soon know you are here. Let no one into the house.”

Now the Queen, having eaten Snow-white’s heart, as she supposed, felt quite sure that now she was the first and fairest, and so she came to her mirror, and said, “Looking-glass upon the wall, Who is fairest of us all?"

And the glass answered,

“Queen, thou art of beauty rare, But Snow-white living in the glen With the seven little men Is a thousand times more fair."

Then she was very angry, for the glass always spoke the truth, and she knew that the huntsman must have deceived her, and that Snow-white must still be living. And she thought and thought how she could manage to make an end of her, for as long as she was not the fairest in the land, envy left her no rest. At last she thought of a plan; she painted her face and dressed herself like an old peddler woman, so that no one would have known her. In this disguise she went across the seven mountains, until she came to the house of the seven little dwarfs, and she knocked at the door and cried, “Fine wares to sell! fine wares to sell!” Snow-white peeped out of the window and cried, “Good-day, good woman, what have you to sell?” “Good wares, fine wares,” answered she, “laces of all colors”; and she held up a piece that was woven of variegated silk.

“I need not be afraid of letting in this good woman,” thought Snow-white, and she unbarred the door and bought the pretty lace. “What a figure you are, child!” said the old woman, “come and let me lace you properly for once.” Snow-white, suspecting nothing, stood up before her, and let her lace her with the new lace; but the old woman laced so quickly and tightly that it took Snow white’s breath away, and she fell down as dead. “Now you have done with being the fairest,” said the old woman as she hastened away.

Not long after that, towards evening, the seven dwarfs came home, and were terrified to see their dear Snow-white lying on the ground, without life or motion; they raised her up, and when they saw how tightly she was laced they cut the lace in two; then she began to draw breath, and little by little she returned to life. When the dwarfs heard what had happened they said, “The old peddler woman was no other than the wicked Queen; you must beware of letting any one in when we are not here!”

And when the wicked woman got home she went to her glass and said, “Looking glass against the wall, Who is fairest of us all?"

And it answered as before,

“Queen, thou art of beauty rare, But Snow-white living in the glen With the seven little men Is a thousand times more fair."

When she heard that she was so struck with surprise that all the blood left her heart, for she knew that Snow-white must still be living.

“But now,” said she, “I will think of something that will be her ruin.” And by witchcraft she made a poisoned comb. Then she dressed herself up to look like another different sort of old woman. So she went across the seven mountains and came to the house of the seven dwarfs, and knocked at the door and cried, “Good wares to sell! good wares to sell!” Snow-white looked out and said, “Go away, I must not let anybody in.” “But you are not forbidden to look,” said the old woman, taking out the poisoned comb and holding it up. It pleased the poor child so much that she was tempted to open the door; and when the bargain was made the old woman said, “Now, for once, your hair shall be properly combed.” Poor Snow-white, thinking no harm, let the old woman do as she would, but no sooner was the comb put in her hair than the poison began to work, and the poor girl fell down senseless. “Now, you paragon of beauty,” said the wicked woman, “this is the end of you,” and went off. By good luck it was now near evening, and the seven little dwarfs came home. When they saw Snow-white lying on the ground as dead, they thought directly that it was the step-mother’s doing, and looked about, found the poisoned comb, and no sooner had they drawn it out of her hair than Snow-white came to herself, and related all that had passed. Then they warned her once more to be on her guard, and never again to let any one in at the door.

And the Queen went home and stood before the looking-glass and said, “Looking-glass against the wall, Who is fairest of us all?"

And the looking-glass answered as before,

“Queen, thou art of beauty rare, But Snow-white living in the glen With the seven little men Is a thousand times more fair."

When she heard the looking-glass speak thus she trembled and shook with anger. “Snow-white shall die,” cried she, “though it should cost me my own life!” And then she went to a secret lonely chamber, where no one was likely to come, and there she made a poisonous apple. It was beautiful to look upon, being white with red cheeks, so that any one who should see it must long for it, but whoever ate even a little bit of it must die. When the apple was ready she painted her face and clothed herself like a peasant woman, and went across the seven mountains to where the seven

dwarfs lived. And when she knocked at the door Snow white put her head out of the window and said, “I dare not let anybody in; the seven dwarfs told me not to.” “All right,” answered the woman; “I can easily get rid of my apples elsewhere. There, I will give you one.” “No,” answered Snow-white, “I dare not take anything.”

“Are you afraid of poison?” said the woman, “look here, I will cut the apple in two pieces; you shall have the red side, I will have the white one.” For the apple was so cunningly made, that all the poison was in the rosy half of it. Snow-white longed for the beautiful apple, and as she saw the peasant woman eating a piece of it she could no longer refrain, but stretched out her hand and took the poisoned half. But no sooner had she taken a morsel of it into her mouth than she fell to the earth as dead. And the Queen, casting on her a terrible glance, laughed aloud and cried, “As white as snow, as red as blood, as black as ebony! This time the dwarfs will not be able to bring you to life again.” And when she went home and asked the looking-glass, “Looking-glass against the wall, Who is fairest of us all?" at last it answered, “You are the fairest now of all.” Then her envious heart had peace, as much as an envious heart can have.

The dwarfs, when they came home in the evening, found Snow white lying on the ground, and there came no breath out of her mouth, and she was dead.

They lifted her up, sought if anything poisonous was to be found, cut her laces, combed her hair, washed her with water and wine, but all was of no avail, the poor child was dead, and remained dead. Then they laid her on a bier, and sat all seven of them round it, and wept and lamented three whole days. And then they would have buried her, but that she looked still as if she were living, with her beautiful blooming cheeks.

So they said, “We cannot hide her away in the black ground.” And they had made a coffin of clear glass, so as to be looked into from all sides, and they laid her in it, and wrote in golden letters upon it her name, and that she was a King’s daughter. Then they set the coffin out upon the mountain, and one of them always remained by it to watch. And the birds came too, and mourned for Snow white, first an owl, then a raven, and lastly, a dove.

Now, for a long while Snow-white lay in the coffin and never changed, but looked as if she were asleep, for she was still as white as snow, as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony.

It happened, however, that one day a King’s son rode through the wood and up to the dwarfs’ house, which was near it. He saw on the mountain the coffin, and beautiful Snow-white within it, and he read what was written in golden letters upon it. Then he said to the dwarfs, “Let me have the coffin, and I will give you whatever you like to ask for it.” But the dwarfs told him that they could not part with it for all the gold in the world. But he said, “I beseech you to give it me, for I cannot live without looking upon Snow white; if you consent I will bring you to great honour, and care for you as if you were my brethren.”

When he so spoke the good little dwarfs had pity upon him and gave him the coffin, and the King’s son called his servants and bid them carry it away on their shoulders. Now it happened that as they were going along they stumbled over a bush, and with the shaking the bit of poisoned apple flew out of her throat. It was not long before she opened her eyes, threw up the cover of the coffin, and sat up, alive and well.

“Oh dear! where am I?” cried she. The King’s son answered, full of joy, “You are near me,” and, relating all that had happened, he said, “I would rather have you than anything in the world; come with me to my father’s castle and you shall be my bride.” And Snow-white was kind, and went with him, and their wedding was held with pomp and great splendour.

But Snow-white’s wicked step-mother was also bidden to the feast, and when she had dressed herself in beautiful clothes she went to her looking-glass and said, “Looking-glass upon the wall, Who is fairest of us all?"

The looking-glass answered, “O Queen, although you are of beauty rare, The young bride is a thousand times more fair."

Then she railed and cursed, and was beside herself with disappointment and anger. First she thought she would not go to the wedding; but then she felt she should have no peace until she went and saw the bride. And when she saw her she knew her for Snow-white, and could not stir from the place for anger and terror. For they had ready red-hot iron shoes, in which she had to dance until she fell down dead.

THE END

1. Ok - so let's Discover a Theme.

Discussion

Yes, the end is a hopeless cop out. Brothers Grimm, should have done better but, 'hey ho.' Or should that be 'Hi ho' given the circumstances ?

But Let's look at how and why the story evolves - because that will tell us what's driving it.

The reason Snow White has such a hard time begins because her mother died, yes that's true, but that's not the main issue. You could also blame her father, as he appears to be absent or uninterested.

But if we stick with what's in front of us, the person giving her the hard time is her stepmother, so let's look at her.

The stepmother is a witch. Witches are fascinating and great for story telling, they're witches because they usually have some traits which keep them apart from society and this one has a problem. She's obsessed with her own vanity.

She can't bare the thought of her step daughter being a better catch than her and so it really gets her goat. But let's not stop there !

She's become an evil witch most likely because of childhood trauma or bad parenting. So in reality, it's not her fault either. It's just life. So I'm asking myself, 'is she a victim too?'

As we have no details about her upbringing - I think we'll stop discovering there for now and conclude that we can have a little sympathy for her. This is a great dilemma. She does some terrible, despicable things yet - she can't help but be who she is.

And we can't help but feel empathy toward Snow White. And here's the kicker. Ask yourself if you'd feel so sorry for Snowy if she were not so beautiful ? You see, the whole story, and our interest is driven by humanity's obsession with vanity.

We're railroaded into siding with Snow White. When in reality, our obsession ( society's obsession ) with the paradigm that "Beauty = Desirable & Good" BUT "Ugly = Undesirable & Evil" is a self serving spiral of unfairness which makes the Witch a victim. A victim of our prescribed prejudice.

Don't worry if you can't follow that logic or don't agree with me. I'll be taking Snow White's corner for the rest of the article and for the finished product.

But I hope you can see why this is at the heart of the story. It's an unresolvable conflict. The type we all come into contact with. The most difficult thing we humans have to negotiate.

We, as artists poets and songwriters must try to make sense of this so that others will have a template from which to act when they encounter these issues. It's a great responsibility, remember, without songwriters - the world makes no sense at all.

Why writers need to stay focused on just one dilemma or issue.

So The Witch can't help who she is, and that's gonna be my hook and anchor - at least for the time being. But I know this might well evolve if I find a more interesting angle.

It's obvious to me that I should join her bitterness with the poisoned apple mentioned in the text. So I've come up with a few phrases which describe this...

'The apple isn't poisonous on both sides.'
'Bitter and twisted - tasted, resisted.'
'We could have been a 'force majeure' - I could still love you with all my heart so pure '
'My word - my witch - So bitter and twisted - Rotten to the core how did daddy miss it ?'
'Your Vanity is Killing me'
'Humanity is Vanity'
'Weeds in your heart - your flesh is sour - reckon you'll be back come witching hour.'
'But the fruit isn't poisoned on both sides - To hell with your pride
'Why not slide on over to sweet side.'

Yes, it makes no sense - these are just ideas - that's all. I'm comparing the Witch's personality with her actions, you see. Dead simple. And this may well evolve into something else but I'll to go with this for now.

How to discover some gory detail to support our main premise.

This is so easy with this folk tale because we are given loads of juicy gore in the text.

For a start we have the repetition of our witch asking the mirror validation and we also have four occasions when the she tried to end Snowy's life.

If you learn nothing else form this article remember this. 'Repeated scenes sell stories.' Comedians politicians, religious leaders, they all use the same formula. So let's do the same.

Again these are just prosaic notes - they are no where near detailed enough and they won't make sense until we put a rhythm to it. It's a progression thing, you see ?

A messy text poem

"You tried to lace me up ( stitch me up)
I couldn't breathe
Just shows how charming you are
How motherly you could be"

There, that's one verse and here's the other two.

"I was having a bad hair day ( the comb )
You used my vanity against me
Again you come as lovely old woman
I let you mother me"

"An apple fresh like you would believe
Like the one the serpent gave unto eve
Like sugar and honey, smelt like blossom
Crisp and fresh like summer - Mother Tucker"

It's a mess - but it's perfectly useful.

We're going to do some developing now.

2. Developing a 3 x 4 poem.

How to develop a few messy ideas into a poem.

The only thing we need to change messy prose into a poem is a coherent rhythm. It doesn't even have to be that coherent in it's text form, so long as it can be performed convincingly.

If you repeat and repeat and repeat your messy ideas, the rhythm - your rhythm will eventually mould and shape you words and edit them to fit the beats and spaces in between. Let the rhythm edit your messy ideas into a poem. That's how it works.

Use a metronome or slap your thigh, or my favourite go for a walk and take the words with you. There's something about physical movement which kickstarts creative juices and it works every time.

You'll notice a lot of changes in the poem.

With your charm and your curmudgeonly ways
O you stitched me up, good and proper hey
You drew those laces with love - not for me
You drew those laces for your vanity.

Another bad hair day, did you come to see
how I'd succumb to my own vanity ?
Like it was mother, some body who'd care.
To feel the tug of a comb in my hair

An apple red like I couldn't believe
Like the one the serpent offered to eve
odour like blossom made me sucker
Made me believe it was Mother Tucker"

Why don't you come over to the sweet side ?

Discussion

All I've done to arrive at the above is this; instead of simply offering up the story and serving the detail - I've enslaved my interpretation to rhythm and filled the beats with words.

In order to do that, I've also abandoned factual accuracy for literal floristry. ( Artistic License )

Rhyming 'sucker' with 'tucker' is a example of this, it's a bit cheesy - but I think it's worth it cos it has impact.

But notice, I couldn't have written this without having some empathy for the Witch, even though it's not obvious, it is implicit. This is why I keep banging on about how important it is to get your attitude fixed in your mind if you can.

And notice that the phrases don't run on from each other making perfect sense all the way through. This is no longer prose. So don't be afraid to leave the audience to fill in the gaps, bring their own imagination into play. That is a million times more effective than trying to do everything for them.

3. Deliver the Finished Item to an Audience

How to Develop a Song From a Poem.

With a song I would normally try to get the main chorus first, but that's not always possible, as in this example where the verses were so easy to develop.

In either case, the chorus is always going to be louder, higher in pitch and more aggressive in attitude. So we really need an instrument to help us with that. The reason being, most of the change in emotion comes from the music and so we have to put it in there, not just the words.

You should be looking for a punchline to encapsulate your main theme. This will only be a few words and will be the main hook of your song. Everything you create should be pushing the song and the listener toward this hook.

To find it - you will have to keep going over and over and round and round the phrases you have until something hits you. Saying things out loud has an uncanny way of making your mind up about whether a phrase is any good or not.

If it's not working - and you're not feeling it - use rhythm. Don't worry about chords, instead, allow the rhythm to drive a melody and meaning into the phrases which you have. Once you have anything that sounds promising, try a few bass notes.

Summary

Find any out of copyright story.

Highlight any phrases or passages which you like.

Look for repetition.

Look for detail, five senses are always good starting points.

Ask yourself - 'what's my angle ?'

Use your angle - your attitude and how you feel to generate a hook, a main theme, an insight, a nugget of wisdom or philosophy which encapsulates the whole story and makes a good punchline.

There are hundreds of fairy tales and short stories out there - make use of them.