Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to
share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of
appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer
assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG
is the brainchild of our ninja leader Alex Cavanaugh.
Thank you to this month’s co-hosts, Melissa Maygrove, Cathrina Constantine, Kate Larkinsdale, and Rebecca Douglass. For links to all
contributors, click here.
Optional April question: If you have a playlist (or could
put one together) that either gets you in the groove to write or fits with one
of your books, what is it? What type of music or what songs?
I’m not in the habit of playing music when writing, but once, ages ago, when my subject matter had Irish connections, I turned to a Celtic playlist while drafting. Inspired by the result. I wrote a Middle Passages post about that magical experience here. Other than adding a few commas, I’m not sure I could write it better today.
That said (or read), after that expressive time, I went back
to writing in silence. For me, concentration requires quiet, but as I
discovered recently, apparently silence during cooking isn’t as important. I
had some interior house painting done a few months back. At the end of the day,
one of the painters mentioned my voice.
Huh?
It turns out the painters, father and son, perform in a band
and had been listening to me singing away in the kitchen while they worked in the
living room. I wasn’t aware I’d opened my mouth. I guess that goes to show that
while I prefer to write in quiet, music is a part of me.
Anyway, back to today’s topic. Intrigued by that post I wrote so many years ago, and in the spirit of IWSG participation, I turned on some tunes while drafting what you’re reading right now. You never know. Maybe I’d grasp a shadow of that long ago Celtic muse. Instead, the first song blasted me back to a party in a linoleum-floored college dorm room where a group of us belted out the chorus. Back to the present. This time I was aware and it was probably good there was no one in my house, because I employed my high school chorus instructor’s lessons to sing from my diaphragm. That is to say, loudly.
So much for writing.
Next thing I knew, I’d spent long minutes replaying the
details of that particular college evening [insert youthful drama here], thinking
how back then, every joy lit our insides like skyrockets, every hurt plunged us into arctic oceans. We had yet to experience the depth of the ways in which
life would have its way with us. I wanted to reach back to that naïve girl singing
her heart out, and say, “You think today is a big deal? Brace yourself, honey. You
ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”
Let’s just say the music-generated nostalgia didn’t help me
get this blog post written.
Or did it?
What kind of music do you listen to when you write? What songs catapult
you back to the past?
