YOU ARE THE MUSIC

"Music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts."

- T.S. Eliot

One very important part of my writing life is music I play while working - or not playing music while working. There are times when I need silence.

Then there are times when I go to Starbucks, or a restaurant somewhere and sit amidst the noise just to distract myself. I have resolved some pretty sticky writing problems in noisy places. I think it forces me to focus in a different way, while providing me with random stimulation at the same time. I am a notorious people watcher - some of that is the writer me, and some of that is the portrait artist me (more on that in another post).

The vast majority of the time I need music for writing. It cannot be just any music.

As a general rule I do not select music with lyrics. This is distracting in a bad way. I am a singer, so I am too tempted to sing along, and therefore, I pay too much attention to the words. This means my focus is not on the writing. So, as much as I love singing (and I *love* it), and as much as I love opera (and I *lovvvvve* opera), it is not good for a writing mood.

So, no lyrics.

The genres I find acceptable are classical (sans opera), jazz (instrumental only) and soundtracks. Yes, soundtracks - orchestral soundtracks.

Think about it. They are background for movies. They are written to enhance the particular mood of the film, but not to overwhelm that mood, or its dialogue.

Perfect.

Here are some of my faves:  Gladiator, Bourne Identity, Four Feathers, Planet Earth (TV documentary, but still a soundtrack). There are others, but these are some of my faves. I have recently discovered the soundtrack to the new "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" film. Awesome working music.

All of these inspire, but do not intrude. They set a tone, but do not force the tone.

Then I am carried away in the inspiration, the mood, and the music becomes part of me and then infuses the story with its influence.

It is a perfect day, when I sit at my desk, looking out the three windows in front of me, across my rose hedge, my oak tree standing firm in the middle of my yard, the day unfolding before me, music surrounding me, and I am doing what I love. In my groove. Transmuting music through me to story.  Writing.

Polla filia,
J.F.