I'm a firm believer that every story has a soundtrack. Not in the sense of movie scores, exactly, but that certain songs remind me of certain pieces of a story and, whenever I hear them, it always gets me in the mood to write.
Take today, for example. I was driving to the bank when Howie Day's "She Says" came on my iPod. The original acoustic version from Australia, not the revamped one that appears on Stop All The World Now (both are great, but I favor the acoustic more). I wrote most of And You Tell Me I Am Home to Howie Day's albums, because it seemed to fit the mood I was going for. And the lyrics to "She Says" fit Zeke to a T:
And when she said she wants somebody else
I hope you know that she doesn't mean you
And when she breaks down and makes a sound
You'll never hear her the way that I do
And when she says she wants someone to love
I hope you know that she doesn't mean you
And when she breaks down and lets you down
I hope you know that she doesn't mean to
He's the guy Emma's always wanted, back in the picture for good. It's like he's giving the finger to Jay, so to speak, saying that he knows her better than Jay does.
As a matter of fact, I think this is a feeling that needs to be addressed more fully in the novel. I wanted it to be, but in retrospect, I don't feel that it was. A note for the revision, to be sure.
I could write for days about the impact music has on my writing. The little snippet today was enough to remind me that, hey, inspiration triggers everywhere, even when you're driving to the bank. Whether or not you take the time to listen to it is up to you.
Showing posts with label and you tell me i am home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label and you tell me i am home. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Friday Writing Response for September 25, 2009
I went in a different direction than I originally planned with this week's writing prompt. My first thought was to write out the major points in Emma's history, like a timeline of events. Instead, I used my writing practice to tackle a few scenes set before the novel begins, before Zeke moves away. I found myself coming up with details I hadn't thought of before, like the fact that Emma has a younger brother, Craig. I'm going to stick with this a bit and see where it goes.
At some point, I do want detailed histories for my characters. For now, I'm just happy to know a little more about them. This snippet shows a bit of that, told from Emma's point of view.
---
"Besides," Leigh added, flopping down on the couch like she owned the place, "we were out ghost hunting, and you know how Emma gets whenever we go out to Hell Hollow."
"You killed the lights on the car!" Emma wasn't about to let her best friend portray her as some sort of scaredy cat, afraid of the dark. "In case you didn't notice, there's no moon tonight. We couldn't see a thing."
"We had a flashlight."
"That you kept taking away from me every time you thought you heard something!"
This, at least, brought a hint of a smile to Zeke's face. It was a start, and that was enough for Emma. "You went ghost hunting without me? Guess I really do need to answer my phone more often."
Leigh rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Since I don't think we'll be able to talk Emma into going back out - which is a shame, by the way, I wanted to go to Trinity Church tonight - what are we doing for the rest of the evening? Your parents are out for the time being, yes?"
At some point, I do want detailed histories for my characters. For now, I'm just happy to know a little more about them. This snippet shows a bit of that, told from Emma's point of view.
---
"Besides," Leigh added, flopping down on the couch like she owned the place, "we were out ghost hunting, and you know how Emma gets whenever we go out to Hell Hollow."
"You killed the lights on the car!" Emma wasn't about to let her best friend portray her as some sort of scaredy cat, afraid of the dark. "In case you didn't notice, there's no moon tonight. We couldn't see a thing."
"We had a flashlight."
"That you kept taking away from me every time you thought you heard something!"
This, at least, brought a hint of a smile to Zeke's face. It was a start, and that was enough for Emma. "You went ghost hunting without me? Guess I really do need to answer my phone more often."
Leigh rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Since I don't think we'll be able to talk Emma into going back out - which is a shame, by the way, I wanted to go to Trinity Church tonight - what are we doing for the rest of the evening? Your parents are out for the time being, yes?"
Friday, August 7, 2009
Friday Writing Response for August 7, 2009
Okay, so first off: Character profiles turned out both good and bad. The good news, I did finish one complete profile - for a character completely outside of any story I'm currently working on. The bad news, Zeke's profile is started, but not finished. I'll admit, it's actually rather frustrating, the fact that the novel is no longer talking to me like it used to. I think it's been too long since I've worked on it consistently, not in fits and starts. Maybe it's time for another read through, just to refresh myself on the material. We'll see.
For now, I'm just going to post a bit from what I did get finished: descriptions of Zeke's appearance and personality. More so for my reference than anyone else, but I still find it interesting to get an in-depth look at a character, especially as a writer.
CHARACTER NAME: Zeke McMahon
Physical Description: Zeke specializes in laid back. He's most at home in jeans and a t-shirt, just the right cut for his lean frame and you can be sure all his clothes are neat and clean. His hair is thick and dark; he always kept it long, past his shoulders. HIs mother, a hairstylist, finally convinced him to get a more modern cut. It now frames his face in shaggy layers, accenting his square jaw nicely. He does get a lot of glances his way for his looks, but Zeke is mostly oblivious to it.
Personality: Zeke straddles the fence between being completely spontaneous and erring on the side of caution. He's a "go with the flow" kind of guy, and he only worries about the big things - the state of his relationship with Emma he considers to be a big thing. Zeke tries to do the right thing by his friends, but he's always up for a little adventure. When it comes to people he doesn't know well or is just meeting for the first time, he tends to form an opinion quickly, and it takes a lot to change this first impression. He's also convinced that he's right, in most situations, so when it comes to arguing, he always wants to be the one who wins.
For now, I'm just going to post a bit from what I did get finished: descriptions of Zeke's appearance and personality. More so for my reference than anyone else, but I still find it interesting to get an in-depth look at a character, especially as a writer.
CHARACTER NAME: Zeke McMahon
Physical Description: Zeke specializes in laid back. He's most at home in jeans and a t-shirt, just the right cut for his lean frame and you can be sure all his clothes are neat and clean. His hair is thick and dark; he always kept it long, past his shoulders. HIs mother, a hairstylist, finally convinced him to get a more modern cut. It now frames his face in shaggy layers, accenting his square jaw nicely. He does get a lot of glances his way for his looks, but Zeke is mostly oblivious to it.
Personality: Zeke straddles the fence between being completely spontaneous and erring on the side of caution. He's a "go with the flow" kind of guy, and he only worries about the big things - the state of his relationship with Emma he considers to be a big thing. Zeke tries to do the right thing by his friends, but he's always up for a little adventure. When it comes to people he doesn't know well or is just meeting for the first time, he tends to form an opinion quickly, and it takes a lot to change this first impression. He's also convinced that he's right, in most situations, so when it comes to arguing, he always wants to be the one who wins.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Friday Writing Response for July 17, 2009
Not my best response ever, but not my worst. It was harder to get into my characters' heads on demand than I remembered; I think I've let this project go too long, which I'll have to remedy soon.
A quick side note to my best friend Meg - I'm sure this scene will make you hate Leigh that much more, but I like her. I needed someone to be the antithesis to Emma, all collected and rational and without a spontaneous bone in her body, and Leigh fits that to a tee.
Timeline wise, this takes place after the end of the novel, so minor spoilers, I suppose? Just assume the novel has a happy ending, and you should be all set. This is a snippet, as I have most of the scene finished, but not entirely. Email me if you want to read the rest.
---
Emma managed a smile at her new boyfriend as she climbed into the front passenger seat. Boyfriend - it was still something she was getting used to, looking over at Zeke and knowing he was hers and she was his, no questions asked. Novels talked about rainbows and butterflies and warm fuzzy feelings, and while Emma didn't feel any of those, she knew this was right. They were where they belonged.
And, if the road trip turned disasterous, her AAA card was tucked in her wallet. She even made sure to double check the night before. No side of the highway for Emma Jean Wilson, no sir.
Zeke turned on the car, the radio station blaring loud, from when he'd been the car last. Emma reached out and turned down the volume, rubbing at one of her ears. "No wonder why you're going deaf," she murmured, shaking her head.
He just shrugged. "I'm going to call it an occupational hazard. Any music suggestions?"
"Something easy for all of us to listen to," Corey suggested. He'd returned from his honeymoon tanned, well rested, and more relaxed than Emma had ever seen him. "Classic rock, maybe."
"Fiona Apple! No, some old No Doubt! I think my iPod's in here somewhere, there's plenty of good stuff on that." Most of Leigh's words were muffled as she was going through her bag, pulling out various items and giving them to Corey as she found them. So far he was holding two pairs of sunglasses, three books, a journal, and a handful of pens.
Zeke looked up at Emma, who just shook her head. "I agree with Corey. Nothing too loud - something for background noise. Classic rock would work."
From behind her bag, Leigh stuck her tongue out, just a spot of pink behind a can of Pringles. "I swear, you wouldn't know what fun was if it came up and smacked you in the face. Come on, Zeke, you agree with me, right?"
"I don't know, Leigh." Throughout the conversation, Zeke had been searching his iPod, scrolling through lists of artists. "My car, so I cast the deciding vote." He set down the music player, AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" starting to play. "Sorry. You know how much I enjoy the rock."
A quick side note to my best friend Meg - I'm sure this scene will make you hate Leigh that much more, but I like her. I needed someone to be the antithesis to Emma, all collected and rational and without a spontaneous bone in her body, and Leigh fits that to a tee.
Timeline wise, this takes place after the end of the novel, so minor spoilers, I suppose? Just assume the novel has a happy ending, and you should be all set. This is a snippet, as I have most of the scene finished, but not entirely. Email me if you want to read the rest.
---
Emma managed a smile at her new boyfriend as she climbed into the front passenger seat. Boyfriend - it was still something she was getting used to, looking over at Zeke and knowing he was hers and she was his, no questions asked. Novels talked about rainbows and butterflies and warm fuzzy feelings, and while Emma didn't feel any of those, she knew this was right. They were where they belonged.
And, if the road trip turned disasterous, her AAA card was tucked in her wallet. She even made sure to double check the night before. No side of the highway for Emma Jean Wilson, no sir.
Zeke turned on the car, the radio station blaring loud, from when he'd been the car last. Emma reached out and turned down the volume, rubbing at one of her ears. "No wonder why you're going deaf," she murmured, shaking her head.
He just shrugged. "I'm going to call it an occupational hazard. Any music suggestions?"
"Something easy for all of us to listen to," Corey suggested. He'd returned from his honeymoon tanned, well rested, and more relaxed than Emma had ever seen him. "Classic rock, maybe."
"Fiona Apple! No, some old No Doubt! I think my iPod's in here somewhere, there's plenty of good stuff on that." Most of Leigh's words were muffled as she was going through her bag, pulling out various items and giving them to Corey as she found them. So far he was holding two pairs of sunglasses, three books, a journal, and a handful of pens.
Zeke looked up at Emma, who just shook her head. "I agree with Corey. Nothing too loud - something for background noise. Classic rock would work."
From behind her bag, Leigh stuck her tongue out, just a spot of pink behind a can of Pringles. "I swear, you wouldn't know what fun was if it came up and smacked you in the face. Come on, Zeke, you agree with me, right?"
"I don't know, Leigh." Throughout the conversation, Zeke had been searching his iPod, scrolling through lists of artists. "My car, so I cast the deciding vote." He set down the music player, AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" starting to play. "Sorry. You know how much I enjoy the rock."
Friday, July 3, 2009
Friday Writing Response for July 3, 2009
Not my best answer, but not the worst. Cut me some slack this week - today is the first day I'm finally starting to feel better. Next week's will be more extensive, I promise.
The prompt I used, as you'll figure out very early on, is Thriller. Emma and Zeke in this piece are from my novel, And You Tell Me I Am Home.
---
Emma found Zeke alone in his apartment, sitting on his bed, strumming his guitar while Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” played in the background. She’d gotten worried when he didn’t answer her phone calls – granted, she’d just called to say she was on her way over, but it wasn’t like him not to answer when she called.
“Hey.” Leaving her back on the couch, Emma sat next to him, reaching out run a hand over his hair. “Everything okay?”
He blinked, looking over at her. Though his fingers never left the strings, he wasn’t playing anymore. “Michael Jackson is dead.”
“I know.” She’d thought it was a joke at first – one of her customers mentioned it while paying for her drink. Then someone else brought it up. And so did the next customer in line.
“It’s just-” Zeke waved with his hand, as if trying to find the words. It was then that Emma realized the music came from his record player, not the computer; “Thriller” had to be one of his father’s old records. “I’ve listened to his music for years. Sure, the new stuff wasn’t any good but he was a genius, Em.”
Resting her head against his shoulder, Emma whispered, “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. While she hadn’t expected this reaction out of him, it made sense – Zeke had many musical idols and he loved 1980s pop music.
Zeke blew out a breath, shoulder slumping forward. “No, I’m sorry. It’s been on my mind ever since I found out.” He strummed the guitar. “I’ve been trying to play all night, but this is all that comes out.” He played for a second, the notes forming the bassline to “Thriller.”
“Maybe that’s all you need to play.” Sitting up, Emma crossed her legs, leaning forward. “Or maybe it’s because the record’s on.”
“It’s been on since I got home.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t know. I didn’t expect it to hit so hard, you know? It’s not like I knew him personally. I just had a few albums.”
She reached for his hand, stilling his fingers as they brushed over the strings. “That’s not the point. Music, art – they touch you. You don’t have to know them to be affected by it.”
“You probably think I’m crazy.”
“I think you’re grieving. I’d be the same way if one of my idols passed away unexpectedly.” She couldn’t imagine if Neil Gaiman or Jim Butcher stopped writing; their works were the kind of books she hoped to write someday. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
He was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands – no, not his hands, but the instrument he held. “Distract me?”
As gently as she could, Emma took the guitar from him, setting it next to her on the bed. “We stick with the plan. Ice cream at Hank’s tonight, remember?”
His eyes brightened. “I haven’t been to Hank’s since I came home.”
“It’ll be just like old times.” She sat up, holding her hands out to him. “Come on. We’ll be standing in line forever if we don’t get there soon.”
Before they left, Zeke paused in front of the record playing, hand resting against the glass. The music still played, almost as if he was afraid to shut it off. After a minute or so, he lifted the lid and took the needle off the record. “When we come back,” he murmured.
“When we come back,” Emma agreed, taking his hand and leading him to the door.
The prompt I used, as you'll figure out very early on, is Thriller. Emma and Zeke in this piece are from my novel, And You Tell Me I Am Home.
---
Emma found Zeke alone in his apartment, sitting on his bed, strumming his guitar while Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” played in the background. She’d gotten worried when he didn’t answer her phone calls – granted, she’d just called to say she was on her way over, but it wasn’t like him not to answer when she called.
“Hey.” Leaving her back on the couch, Emma sat next to him, reaching out run a hand over his hair. “Everything okay?”
He blinked, looking over at her. Though his fingers never left the strings, he wasn’t playing anymore. “Michael Jackson is dead.”
“I know.” She’d thought it was a joke at first – one of her customers mentioned it while paying for her drink. Then someone else brought it up. And so did the next customer in line.
“It’s just-” Zeke waved with his hand, as if trying to find the words. It was then that Emma realized the music came from his record player, not the computer; “Thriller” had to be one of his father’s old records. “I’ve listened to his music for years. Sure, the new stuff wasn’t any good but he was a genius, Em.”
Resting her head against his shoulder, Emma whispered, “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. While she hadn’t expected this reaction out of him, it made sense – Zeke had many musical idols and he loved 1980s pop music.
Zeke blew out a breath, shoulder slumping forward. “No, I’m sorry. It’s been on my mind ever since I found out.” He strummed the guitar. “I’ve been trying to play all night, but this is all that comes out.” He played for a second, the notes forming the bassline to “Thriller.”
“Maybe that’s all you need to play.” Sitting up, Emma crossed her legs, leaning forward. “Or maybe it’s because the record’s on.”
“It’s been on since I got home.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t know. I didn’t expect it to hit so hard, you know? It’s not like I knew him personally. I just had a few albums.”
She reached for his hand, stilling his fingers as they brushed over the strings. “That’s not the point. Music, art – they touch you. You don’t have to know them to be affected by it.”
“You probably think I’m crazy.”
“I think you’re grieving. I’d be the same way if one of my idols passed away unexpectedly.” She couldn’t imagine if Neil Gaiman or Jim Butcher stopped writing; their works were the kind of books she hoped to write someday. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
He was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands – no, not his hands, but the instrument he held. “Distract me?”
As gently as she could, Emma took the guitar from him, setting it next to her on the bed. “We stick with the plan. Ice cream at Hank’s tonight, remember?”
His eyes brightened. “I haven’t been to Hank’s since I came home.”
“It’ll be just like old times.” She sat up, holding her hands out to him. “Come on. We’ll be standing in line forever if we don’t get there soon.”
Before they left, Zeke paused in front of the record playing, hand resting against the glass. The music still played, almost as if he was afraid to shut it off. After a minute or so, he lifted the lid and took the needle off the record. “When we come back,” he murmured.
“When we come back,” Emma agreed, taking his hand and leading him to the door.
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