If you were to taste the maple sap before you boiled it down, which I did, you’d find it hard to believe there’s any sweetness hiding in there at all. Now imagine dumping a sloshy bucket of that watery sap on a plate of pancakes. Trust me, the kids wouldn’t eat it. That’s what it’s like to listen to a song that’s about everything instead of one thing—it ends up being about nothing at all. Whether you’re writing a sermon, a poem, or a mystery novel, you have to do the work of boiling it down. But it’s important to remember that you don’t start with the syrup. You start with the sap, and then
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