A Little Night Music, Please

I have to admit I have had a little help in my writing sessions for the past few weeks. No, I haven't asked a noted author to serve as ghost writer. I have invited Mozart, Beethoven, Rossini, Dvorak, Tchaikovsky and many of their friends along for the ride.

Their help is invaluable.

It is a matter of creating the correct atmosphere to write. I have some unwritten rules when it comes to music while I create. First, no lyrics. I don't want words from a song distracting me. Second, the music has to fit who I am. I have heard from one author of horror stories that he loves to have heavy metal or hard rock playing. Good for him, but it's not a fit for me. Third, the music has to lead me along. As much as I was raised on Clapton, Hendrix, et al, the classical composers form a bond with me. Maybe it's my upbringing. I thank God I had parents who presented me with a wide range of performances to view when I was very young. We saw Polish dance troupes and Scottish marching bands, and I saw the Bolshoi Ballet doing "Swan Lake" on an American tour when I was maybe 13 years old. So, the old masters in the hands of great artists such as Itzhak Perlman or Josef Suk are familiar to me.

Does the music influence WHAT I write? No. I am writing a thriller/suspense novel, and the subject matter can get quite rough. (One of my favorite selections is the second movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony, but I didn't choose it because of the piece's link to "A Clockwork Orange.") I can have something exceptionally mellow, like the Spring section of Vivaldi's The Four Seasons, on and type away about a killer tracking a potential victim.

Does the music influence HOW I write? Oh yes. I am so focused on my work. Maybe the complexity lifts my spirit and spurs me along. There might be a multitude of reasons. I do know this: I have had some amazingly productive writing sessions ... those 1,000-word days ... in the past few weeks. Do I think the music makes a difference? I know it does.

Sorry, but it's time for Eine kleine Nachtmusik ... a Little Night Music. Hello, Mr. Mozart. How are you doing tonight? Shall we spend a few minutes together?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Wrestling with the idea of white privilege

A former co-worker was the first I saw charge that all Caucasian employees have the advantage of white privilege. I laughed and labeled it as the latest wave of thought designed to find perpetrators for victims. I laughed because of my upbringing. I was born in The Dalles, Oregon, which isn't an epicenter of wealth and status. It's a town of about 10,000 residents on the banks of the Columbia River. It is known for cherries, wheat, winds funneled through the Columbia River Gorge, and a key historic spot for Lewis and Clark and the pioneers who ventured west on the Oregon Trail. It was a good place to grow up, at least for me. It was small enough that you had the feeling all residents were neighbors. A downside was that you were often known by who your parents were. I was often introduced as Eldon's boy, or Virginia's boy. I was the third child of three, so I also was known as Steve's little brother, or John's little brother. It also was a town with a racist
Read more

Western boy adjusts to the South

I must apologize for the lengthy time between posts. You see, I have pulled up stakes in Colorado and settled into the beautiful Upstate region of South Carolina. It's more than merely a new location. This is a different culture, weather routine, foods, way of life. I am not going to be so presumptuous to believe I understand it all, but I have had time to form opinions about my new home. Here are a few: 1) The South doesn't believe in pretenses. Maybe it's different in Atlanta or Charlotte, but my new hometown of Anderson, South Carolina, is as comfortable as an old shirt. No one is expected to act one way, dress accordingly, show off the signs of status, or spend time telling people how good you are. One of our friends in our new home is Mykel, an African-American man who just moved with his wife into a new home from the apartment complex where we currently live. His reaction to his new home and car on the same day? "That's a blessing," he says. Walk down
Read more

On being out of journalism for one year

April 24 marked the one-year anniversary of Kevin Dale calling me into his office and notifying me that my job at The Denver Post was being eliminated in a reduction of workforce. I won't write about that decision today. That is so last year. But I learned a lot in those intervening months, so it's time for an update. It is a situation in which there is good news and there's bad news. People given the option of what to hear always take the good news first. I will reverse that order. Those bad things sit deeper in my soul, as they should for anyone who put decades of effort into his or her craft or profession. So here are the three worst parts of leaving journalism. 1. I have so much to offer and no opportunity. I am a skilled journalist. I have numerous writing awards. I was a good copy editor who worked on some of the best newspapers not only in the West but in the world. What was that worth in the job market? Not a darned thing. I applied for any job that had the word
Read more