Rhetorical question: do you listen to music? What are the songs you keep coming back to savor, over and over again, no matter how “dated” they may be? Whatever your musical taste, there’s a reason to plug in those headphones—or turn on that hot new stereo system you just bought: music enriches your writing.
In fact, I’d go so far as to say the ultimate muse is music. Is it a coincidence that the words are so similar?
Photo by Gianpiero Addis
Bold statement perhaps, but one that’s sure to resonate with many authors. I’m certainly no stranger to the notes that wind themselves around my pen (remember that old-fashioned writing tool?). Because my writing steeps in a great deal of subtext and implicit emotion, a lot of it is built on music.
My playlists have trotted round the globe and back through time as far back as ancient Arabia. I’ve got my faves that can instantly drop me into that deep meditative place I need to craft certain types of stories or passages, other songs whose quick tempo and dynamic rhythm can jazz up any scene, and still others I listen to when I want nothing more than a nice soft background ambience.
You could say I don’t have one muse, but an entire sisterhood of muses. So how does a writer turn them on?
Sound or Silence?
Sure, there are those moments of heady tranquility that can produce pages of great prose, and other moments when being in nature is all the melody you need. The other day when we lost power, my husband commented on how “quiet” everything was suddenly—and you really could FEEL it. I could feel the silence in my bones.
But there’s something about sound that enriches the mental and emotional process of turning thought into story.
Why else would local cafés be packed with writers? Energizing powers of coffee and social ecosystems aside, that low, pleasing background din of a coffee shop is like compost to a story seedling.
Match Your Melodies
Music has the power to transform those vague amoebas of inspiration and creativity into actual words, sentences, and plotlines, to weave an undercurrent of rhythm and motion through your entire narrative, and fuse fragmented dialogue, passages, or images into a cohesive, fluid whole. But you have to know how to—pardon the pun—tune into it.
For me, what works best are songs whose energy and flavor match the energy and tone of the story I’m writing at a given moment. I couldn’t have written my mystery novella “Verse in Arabic” listening to the “Slumdog Millionaire” soundtrack, for example. The two works clash with one another at their very core; the result would have likely been compared to an ear-grinding first-grade recital instead of Ravel’s Bolero (which this book actually has!).
Lose It In Translation
I listen a lot to music with foreign lyrics. Why? Because if it’s English, I can too easily slip into listening to those words than write my own. If I cannot understand the lyrics, it’s easier for them to blend into the melodious stream flowing through my psyche.
As with everything of course, this too has its exceptions: I listen to Lana del Rey for some of my work and she sings in English. But her voice is so haunting it doesn’t matter. Her songs run through me the way ancient rivers cut their banks every winter.
A Song a Day…
…keeps writer’s block away. There’s no question writing can take up a fair amount of your mental energy; at times, it can seem that the more you’re stuck on something, be it dialogue, plot point, or coming up with a story in the first place, the more energy you expend trying to break through.
And that can hurt. Ever try putting your fist through a block of wood?
Martial arts philosophy teaches us that it’s all about energy. With the proper training, you too can barrel through that wooden block without nary a scratch on your delicate skin—or through your writer’s block without flexing those neurons any more than you have to.
Given the right melody, and knowing how to listen to music. Music carries energy, emotion, nuance, meaning. Music can turn your world upside down, color it every shade known to the human eye, and completely alter your sense of reality. Like images, embedded within the streams of mathematical structures and symmetries we call music swim countless impossibly intertwined concepts, stories, realities—worlds that we writers have the tough job to try and translate into words.
This is what you need to learn how to access, yes just by listening; but once you do, you will have oceans of inspiration literally at your eartips.
The Proof is in the Harmony
According to the latest science, listening to music has some impressive physiological benefits. I’d include verbal and artistic expression to those benefits. Music has been shown to lower anxiety, increase pleasure (who didn't know that), and activate regions of the brain involved with memory, attention, and planning—gosh golly gee, could those possibly be involved with writing in any way?
So pack up that laptop, headphones, and a stack of dark chocolate bars (yes, chocolate! but that's another post for another time…), and get thee to a coffee shop. Your muse awaits.
What does music do for your writing? Tell us how your muse moves you.
PRACTICE
Choose a piece you’re working on that you’ve been having trouble with. Find a spot where no one will disturb you (or that café), and choose a song that you’re either in the mood for or you think can enhance or enrich your story, whether it’s the narrative arc, the characters, or the background.
The first time you listen to the song, don’t write or read: just feel how that song modulates and flavors the way you resonate with your story. Then listen to it again while reading your story. Now listen a third time, this time writing.
How does this song change the way you write? (If you’re a veteran music-driven writer, no need to follow the steps above. Just dive in!)
Oh no. I hate music with passion and I hate when I am force to listen to in:)
Advice par excellence!
I have a song in mind right now that I’ll play before and during the essay I’m writing about my daughter. Have you heard George Winston’s “Love Song to a Ballerina?” This might be the perfect song to capture the flavor of my piece. Thank you, Birgitte, for this valuable advice today. I’ll take it 😉
A soft, reflective piece, sounds like just the song for your essay. When I find the perfect songs for my writing, I’m capable of playing it a hundred times in a loop w/o getting tired of it. Happy musical writing Debra!
It’s amazing how a song can remind you of a friend or relative or take you back to places remembered or imagined. When you love a song you make it your own. I’m sensing you’ve had one of those light bulb moments, and I do hope it works for you 🙂
Music is all around us. I hear music in the patter of rain drops. I hear melody on a daily basis. I live in Wales, which is renowned as the land of song. Welsh voices are naturally more nuanced, more melodious than their English equivalent. They also pronounce words more slowly, and deliberately, than the more time rushed English. I listen to English accents, and by comparison they sound flat and cynical.
Music is also packed with emotion. If you ever want to write something that doesn’t turn out to be a so what statement, then the best way to do this is to listen to music. Song writers can also be great story tellers. The Beatles for instance have some remarkable stories in their lyrics. The great thing about their lyrics is often they wrote about very ordinary occurrences, such as fixing a roof, or getting a parking ticket, but in a good humoured quirky way. They also have more poignant songs dealing with loneliness and loss, such as “Cried for No one” and “She’s Leaving Home”.
Music is the nearest we have to the telling of stories around the hearth in a cave. It continues the tradition of word of mouth story telling, where, with each re telling the story becomes more refined. I guess listening to music can also teach you to write with brevity. You have to be selective if you’re writing something to be heard in five minutes. A great opening line is also a must.
Katie, with your comment alone you whisked me off my feet and took me with you to Wales. The human voice is a musical instrument in itself, as you say, thank you for adding this wonderful note to the blog.
And as for the stories told in songs, agree on that point as well, wholeheartedly. This may be why so many of my peers feel so much of modern “music” today is a bit lacking in depth—it’s become too commercial, too manufactured, too oriented toward mass profit. It’s no longer about the stories and the meaning, it’s just empty entertainment.
Thanks. I’m glad you liked it 🙂
We are so privileged to have comments from around the world! You make so many wonderful points about story telling in music, great opening lines and brevity in song writing. Each word in a song or poem is a well-thought treasure. Thanks for your comments!
You’re very welcome! I too feel privileged to be able to exchange ideas with people from around the world. It’s one of the huge benefits of the internet age 🙂
Hi Katie – LOVED what you said about Welsh voices. I am Scottish descent,a second generation Canadian and was just telling my son this morning how my grandmother turned the word “great” into three syllables…
Thanks 🙂 I love Canada as well. I have many first, second and third generation relatives out there, mostly in and around Vancouver and Vancouver Island. I don’t get to see them nearly as often as I would like. I keep in touch with them on the internet (absolute godsend).
I’m a first generation Canadian, born in Alberta, but now living in the US. I love folk music because it tells a story. Some of the best stories I have heard have come out of folk music from Nova Scotia, Wales, and Scotland. These are the songs that inspire and bring us to something more than ourselves. And stories should be bigger than ourselves.
Some of the best writing I have done came when a song inspired me. I wonder, if my electronic piano hadn’t kicked the bucket, if my writing would now inspire me to compose music. I think ever our own art can inspire other arts within us.
It’s always fun to go back and look at the passion in something you have made.
I listened to “Farewell to Nova Scotia” as sung by Schooner Fare, to write the opening for my historical novel on the Hudson Strait expedition in 1927. The opening takes place as the ice cutter is about to head north from Halifax bearing 44 explorers and their crew, six Fokker Universal monoplanes and one DeHavilland Gipsy Moth. The music evokes such emotion that it made the scene very easy to write. This is a very personal WIP for me, as my grandfather was one of the 44 and I’m using his diary as the framework for the book. Music is indeed a willing and giving muse.
Sounds fascinating!
it certainly has fascinated me, and I hope to bring the story to life for others. Thanks!
What an amazing story this must have been Jay. The generation our grandparents belonged to was a bittersweet one indeed… I look forward to your novel! And yes, absolutely, music can be an icebreaker indeed—in your case, almost literally! 😉
David Mamet said, in an article on why he loves aviation history, that it was the moment he realized his seemingly ordinary relative had had an adventure. I feel like that, too, and yes, literally an ice breaker!
This sounds like a grand Canadiana story, Jay – love that the music inspired you and look forward to the book!
thank you!
Music makes me feel alive. Like, really alive because of course I am alive. It just ignites my energy levels and I like throwing on my favourite songs to write to. They’ve helped me break through those phases where I hate every word I write, where I feel blocked and uninspired. When I wrote papers as at student my mother learned never to interrupt me if I was listening to music and writing. She knew it was a sign I was on a roll.
Giulia, that pretty much describes me as well. I feel much more alive with music… or auditory stimuli of some kind, even if it’s leaves rustling or a fountain humming nearby. On the other hand certain sounds or songs set me completely on edge, fragmenting concentration, so it has to be right. It has to resonate, and that’s where individual character and preference come in.
Can’t find the comment I wrote yesterday, so here goes again. Great seeing your post. I like music, and wish that I could write to it, but I find it too great a distraction. I can’t find the words in my head with the music on; it keeps calling me away, either inviting me to get up and move or to listen and linger. I guess we each work differently. I wonder, however, if I can use it to get me back on track on a bad day. (Although usually drudgery like house cleaning or washing the dishes accomplishes that for me…)
Yes music is not for all writers at all times — could be you just need to find the right song, or perhaps your muse is a quieter one. Or, as you suggest, listen to it before you write, let it sink in and work its magic over time. 🙂
I am not one who writes with music on. I prefer quiet (doesn’t have to be total silence). However, I recently broke out of an almost 4-year creative slump–and it was all down to music. Having little time after my child was born to listen to music, it had been a long time since I simply enjoyed my music. A day of long solo driving put me in contact with music I had not listened to in years. By the end of the day, the first brand-new novel in 4 years had been born in my head. So yes, music is powerful stuff!
Kerry thank you so much for sharing such a lovely personal story. It sounds (ooh, pardon the pun!) like you fell into a veritable flood of music, and words, after a long literary drought. Music works on a conscious as well as subconscious level; that’s what’s so beautiful about it.
Here’s a glass to your breakthrough!
Music is always on for me…. All my stories have a song that describes them and I listen to it every time I work on that story…
Loooove rainymood.com as a background noise…
Great post
I returned to this writing prompt in order to progress with my story about Tommy and Suzy. Listening to one musical piece, a few times, gave me clues as to the direction to take the story. Here is my second instalment. There will be two more:
Tommy returned to his flat, and hung up his coat. Suzy’s note was still
nestled deep in the pocket.
He heard a commotion in the living room, a sound of things being chucked around. He wondered if there was an intruder. He crept with stealth across the polished parquet flooring, golfing umbrella in hand, and took a covert glance into the living room from behind the half-open door. He recognised the black curly hair of his ex girlfriend, Michaela, who had by mutual agreement just moved out of the flat. He felt a mixture of relief coupled with deep irritation.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said.
“What kind of greeting is that?” she said, looking at him tauntingly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just came to collect some more of my things: my antique china doll collection, before you get a chance to auction them online.”
“What makes you think I’d touch your sodding doll collection? I might be broke, but I’m not stupid.”
“Whatever.” she said with sarcasm. He knew she longer trusted him with financial issues. The stigma of his redundancy had showed up the shallow nature of their relationship.
“Leave now please, and leave your key this time. Text me with anything else you need. I don’t want a repeat performance of today.”
“Well I’m not going to waste any more breath on you. I’m going now. You’ll be sorry.” she said, and muttered something under her breath. She gathered up her boxes and rushed out into the hallway. Tommy listened, for what felt like an eternity, to hear her leave. At last he heard the door close, and a clack as the key hit the parquet flooring. He felt relieved, but also unexpectedly sad at the passing of their relationship.
——————————————————————————————————-
Tommy spent the next few days searching local job sites and
the local free newspaper. There were copious adverts for cleaners, primary
school teachers, and junior admin assistants. There were precious few
professional jobs. He contemplated the thought of taking a pay cut, or becoming
self-employed. He was the only one of his circle of friends who was out of
work, and he felt isolated.
At last, Tuesday came around. Tommy arrived early outside the park gates. The sun was playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. On seeing the first purple and gold crocuses of spring among the still dormant grass, he felt strangely uplifted. He reached in his pocket to see if he could find the note Suzy had given him. It wasn’t there. He shrugged, figuring that he should have taken it out and put it somewhere safe. He figured he had thrown it out by mistake. It didn’t matter, because it wasn’t long before Suzy arrived.
“Hiya, Tommy,” Suzy waved at him from across the road. The Albert Bridge towered behind her, reminiscent a spider’s web covered in a network of light bulbs, like drops of dew. She dodged traffic, narrowly missing a courier on a motorbike, to reach Tommy at the park entrance.
“How’s the job search going? I hope you’re looking after yourself properly! When did you last shave?”
Tommy felt a bit self-conscious at her comment, but shrugged it off. He hadn’t shaved for a few days. His hair being coarse and black grew back as soon as he shaved anyway.
“Not great, unless I retrain as a heavy-goods truck driver.”
Suzy started giggling at the thought of Tommy as a truck driver. He was physically strong but shorter than average, and would look lost in the huge cab of an HGV.
“Seriously, though, I’m thinking of going freelance, at least until the job market picks up. How about you?”
“I signed up with an agency. They said there’s no permanent work right now, but that they can get me some work typing and filing.”
“You can type? I always wondered how people do that. I never got past the two finger thing.”
Tommy mimed the typing action, his fingers darting through the air like demented hopping frogs. Suzy started giggling again, and tapped the back of his coat sleeve playfully.
“I don’t mind typing. Some people find it dull. When I
type I imagine I’m playing the piano. I learned to play when I was a little
girl. They made me play classical, but I rebelled, and played jazz. I love
Gershwin, especially ‘Rhapsody in Blue’. When I listen to it, I’m right there, in
the city where I grew up, surrounded by majestic skyscrapers, surrounded by
the bustling traffic, the yellow cabs with their horns blaring, the pavements
crowded with people jostling with each other, trying to get ahead. The opening
trumpet reminds me of the silent whir that the subway trains make when they
pull away from the platform.”
“‘Rhapsody in Blue’? I can’t say I’m familiar with it.”
“I’ve got to on my mp3 player, Tommy. Would you like to listen some?”
Tommy smiled and nodded, his habitual frown easing slightly.
“We can share head phones while we walk through the park.” Suzy handed Tommy one of the earphones, which he planted snugly in his left ear, hoping for dear life it wouldn’t fall out.
As they walked through the park entrance, Tommy let the sounds of the opening trumpet that Suzy had talked about to wash over him. The park seemed more alive than usual, with the soundtrack of Suzy’s music.
They found themselves on one of the tree-lined avenues, and in no time at all they reached the bandstand at the centre of the park. They were nearing some railings, when Tommy suddenly noticed a white object. It was blurred in the corner of his eye, but never-the-less commanded his attention.
The white object caught the attention of Suzy too. Then it dawned on them both that it wasn’t an object, but a person, painted to look like a statue. They looked at each other quizzically feeling slightly disturbed. The music had just stopped. The silence added to the strangeness of the moment. The statue was completely white, apart from the eyes, which were piercingly black, and staring with an intensity that seemed to say, I’m watching you. The face was completely expressionless, apart from the staring eyes.
Suzy looked uncomfortable. She threw a few coins in to a
hat at the statues feet. The statue seemed to snarl at her, but when she looked
again, its face was as blank and expressionless as it had been before.
She turned to Tommy and whispered, “I don’t like this. Did you see that snarl? It almost felt personal.”
Tommy, who hadn’t seen what Suzy saw, started laughing.
“You do have an over-active imagination, but I think I like that. You’re wasted in office work.”
Suzy started laughing too, as they walked away from the bandstand, although she couldn’t completely shrug off the feeling of being watched.
“My Ma always said that about me too. I think she hoped I’d grow out of it!”
She looked directly at Tommy and said “Tell me about you Tommy? I know so little about you!” she said with genuine interest, as they threaded their way through the trees, which were covered in a green haze of fresh buds.
“Well, there’s not much to say. I grew up on the coast, near Brighton. An only child, I envied my childhood friends for the sibling rivalries they took for granted. My dad was an accountant, so I became an accountant. He wanted me to go into partnership with him, but I wanted to make my own way in the world, so I moved to London. Recently, I wish I had done what he wanted me to, since I lost my job, and split up with my girl-friend.”
“I’m sorry, Tommy. I guess you’ve had a tough time. I hope you can open up to me, and not keep things bottled. I know how reserved you English people are!” She gently emphasized her point, by placing a hand on his arm.
She looked at her watch. “Oh my, is that the time? Eleven already. I have to go. I’ve got a job interview this afternoon.”
Tommy fell silent, staring into the middle distance.
“I do hope you don’t think this is a brush off, Tommy. It’s been fun spending some time with you today. I do hope we can meet up again!”
“OK” said Tommy, “How about we meet up the same time, same place next week. Only one thing; I lost your number. Maybe we should exchange numbers. That way you can phone me if it’s no longer convenient to meet up.”
“Oh, Tommy, I’d love that!” she said, surprising him with a peck on the cheek. They exchanged mobile-phone numbers, and said their good-byes.
“Good luck” he called after her retreating figure. She turned back and winked, before dashing off into the distance.
As she left, Tommy thought he saw the outline of a figure lurking in the shadows cast by the trees, but when he looked round there was no-one there.
Thanks for remembering that I wanted to continue reading the story of Tommy and Suzy. I can certainly say that it’s moving along nicely. It flows, and the last paragraph, of course, makes you want to continue. it keeps the reader engaged. Your description of the city and its sounds, as well as the subway, put me right on the scene! Aside from a few missing commas and fragmented sentences, it reads really well. Can’t wait for the other two installments. Keep up the good work, Katie!
Hi Claire, thanks for your continued interest. I’m glad you like the direction in which I’m taking my story. I will take your advice and carefully re-read it to check for errors.
I’m looking forward to future posts from you, too! Keep writing! 🙂
Can you add a link to the first installment? My mind feels a little rusty this morning. Thanks!
DOPE! Nevermind! I found it.
Previous Installment
🙂
Beginning was awesome. Dialog was superb, you can feel the tension between Tommy and his ex.
Think it should be “peek-a-boo behind the clouds”
“reminiscent a spider’s web covered” needs an “of”. Loved that whole paragraph. Loved the vivid spiderweb description. Loved her near miss to join him. Elegance, beauty.
Loved the description of the city in the dialog, but I think if you trimmed it, I’m not saying get read of anything, but tried to use less words to say the same thing, it would have been an absolutely gorgeous description.
“”I’ve got to on my mp3 player” I think you mean “I’ve got it“.
“with the soundtrack of Suzy’s music.” change to “with Suzy’s music.” More personal, feels less disconnected.
I enjoyed reading this. There are so many things in it that I loved the way you did it, that I would have to copy and paste the whole story into my critique to mention everything that I liked.
I, too spotted a few missing or ancillary commas, but they were namely minor issues. The statue thing seemed really a shot out of the dark! I’m curious what is going on with that. I really wasn’t expecting that at all. For some reason, I’m interested mostly in the characters’ thoughts and feelings for each other. You can tell they should be together, already.
I wonder if the shadowy person is an ex of one of the two.
Can’t wait to see what you do next with this story line!
Thanks for your well thought-out and measured critique, James. It’s really useful to know what you think works, and what doesn’t work quite so well. I will take your advice on board, and do a re-edit.
In response to your previous post, I will definitely be reading both your stories. I’m going to start a late shift at work soon, (I work as a fishmonger of all things!) but have scheduled in some time tomorrow morning to read them, and post some feed back on your blog.
Keep up the good work! Thanks again for your interest 🙂
I had to go back and read the first part … I don’t think I had read it before. You have a lovely style of writing, and I’m enjoying it! There are a couple of thoughts I have for you.
“Whatever.” she said with sarcasm. When I read ‘Whatever,’ it was automatically sarcastic in my head, especially in this context. I think you could take out ‘she said with sarcasm.’ It would tighten it up and give her reply more ‘umph.’ Consider this same suggestion with a few other places you have ‘she/he said.’ Sometimes explaining the emotions in what someone says ends up repeating the same idea twice.
This paragraph was a little confusing: She looked directly at Tommy and said “Tell me about you Tommy? I know so little about you!” she said with genuine interest, as they threaded their way through the trees, which were covered in a green haze of fresh buds.
There are two ‘saids’ on either side of the sentence … and she’s looking directly at him while they’re walking. A good excuse for her to fall and him catch her 😉 Here is an idea of how to fix it:
They were threading their way through the trees, which were covered in a green haze of fresh buds. She stopped, a hand on his arm, and looked directly into his eyes. “Tell me about you Tommy? I know so little about you!”
In my opinion, you don’t even need to state that her interest was genuine if you write it in a way that shows how serious she is. (looking directly into his eyes.)
Absolutely LOVE this paragraph: “Hiya, Tommy,” Suzy waved at him from across the road. The Albert Bridge towered behind her, reminiscent a spider’s web covered in a network of light bulbs, like drops of dew. She dodged traffic, narrowly missing a courier on a motorbike, to reach Tommy at the park entrance.
Beautiful comparison of the bridge with a spider’s web!
The snarling statue and shadowy figure are interesting! My first thought was that it’s Tommy’s ex …
Can’t wait to read more!
Hi Victoria! Thanks for reading and for providing feedback! I’m glad you enjoyed reading the first two parts of my story.
I agree with the point you made about not over-stating emotional responses, and letting the dialogue flow with less speech tags. I need to have more confidence in the dialog speaking for itself.
I enjoyed your re-write of the paragraph where Suzy asks Tommy to be more open with her, especially the bit about Suzy falling, and Tommy catching her LOL! Your suggestion of Suzy pausing and making eye contact has the effect of making her questioning more memorable, and I will see how I can adapt this into my story. Thanks for the suggestion!
It’s good to know that you like my description of the Albert Bridge. I lived in this part of London for a year and looked upon this bridge every day. It’s a spectacular sight, especially at night, when all the bulbs light up.
I’m glad you were intrigued by the statue and the shadowy figure, and that it got you thinking who it might be. I will make sure I let you know when I post the next instalment!
Katie 🙂
Effect of music to our really big and it has been demonstrated during the development of music in parallel with development of human history. It really is an important and essential part of life
Hey! I’m a teen 🙂 writing teen romance in wattpad. Can u suggest some slow songs (guy singers!) for inspiration? 😉 thnx!!