Tagged: music

The Host of My Favorite Music Podcast

  • by jenentirely the wrong kind of inflection
  • turned into wobbly rubber
  • delicately touched the sleeve
  • because of technical embargoes
  • liquor and the jellies
  • with ice in his voice
  • only to force cursing
  • Caesar, the Decembrists, Prince Charlie, Xerxes

The host of my favorite music podcast made the announcement with ice in his voice, and entirely the wrong kind of inflection. Big Jim Caesar, the Decembrists, Prince Charlie, Xerxes and Lolita, and KGI would all be playing Bonnaroo this year, but because of technical embargoes, Liquor and the Jellies (my favorite band), would not. The news seemed designed only to force cursing from me, and I complied, letting loose a stream of profanity that did not stop until my neighbor pounded on the wall. My stomach turned to wobbly rubber when I remembered how much I’d paid for my ticket on Craigslist. I delicately touched the sleeve of my kimono to my cheek to blot my tears of disappointment and fury while inwardly I vowed vengeance against the president’s new War on Synthesizers.

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Music To My Ears

r-avatarWe’ve been deep in our music novel for the past few months, and just last week we reached the conclusion of Novel #5 in our critique group. This led to a lively discussion about endings in general, and the parallels between fiction and music composition.

There are many different approaches to endings, and different kinds of readers prefer different ending styles. What they all have in common is that readers seek a feeling of completion, that a “good” ending must be “satisfying” — whatever that means to each individual.

In music, this feeling of completeness is dependent on resolution. If the song changed key somewhere along the way, it will feel unresolved until it returns to its home key. The repeat structure, the lyrics, all kinds of elements of the music can contribute to this sense of resolution, of things coming together. This isn’t to imply that the only valid endings are those with complete resolution. Far from it. Some songs end on the up-beat and leave the listener ringing with unresolved energy. There are false endings, and slow fade-outs, and many other conventions.

Just like a good story ending, these various ways of handling resolution play with our instinctive, intuitive drive to have things tied up neatly. Sometimes the power of the ending comes from the elegance with which this denouement is achieved, while in other cases the conclusion’s ambiguity is what makes it stick with us, like the song that bounds up for its final beat, and never comes back down.

Tricky endings are definitely a place where it’s necessary to know the rules before you try to break them. Done poorly, they just feel flat. Like the author just stopped typing and called it “the end” without addressing questions raised along the journey. An ambiguous ending with no cathartic climax (aka, the European ending) isn’t right for every story, but then again not every tale calls for a big showdown. Just like not every song wants a gradual diminuendo, and not every song wants to end with a cymbal crash.

Look at the threads that make up your story, at the choices that haven’t yet borne fruit, and construct an ending based on satisfying your readers. Or, leave just the right questions ringing in their minds.

Being Awesome Together

r-avatarMostly we write about the logistical and procedural aspects of writing with a partner: how to divvy up the work, how we can each play to our strengths, and so on. What we mention in passing is that we talk to each other a lot, and now maybe it’s time to make those conversations the focus of a post on the Skelleyverse.

Kent’s current assignment is to make a pass through the music novel watching for places to have the main character “think in music” — we want readers to be able to hear the world through his ears, and we want it to be clear that music is fundamental to him, not just something he does. Well, Kent made use of Scrivener’s nifty tools for filtering and organizing text nodes to find the places where such edits would make sense, and … stared at it for an hour. Eventually he changed one word. It was a good one, mind you. But let’s review: one word.

But then — but then! — while Kent and Jen were spooling down from their gruelling work session, they chatted about Kent’s mission for about five minutes and came up with several excellent ideas for ways to incorporate the desired flavor. If Kent hadn’t been so fixated on the notion that it was “his” job to come up with this stuff, they could have spent some time chatting up front and come out way ahead.

Every writer needs someone to talk to, even if it’s not a partner per se. It’s critical for effective problem-solving. And if you are lucky enough to have someone sitting in the same room with you, who knows the details of your project and understands the creative vision, then don’t squander the opportunity to think out loud with that person! Good things will happen.

The Latest Album From My Favorite Band

  • by jenthe Danish East Asia Company
  • emitted a ghostly hiss
  • suicides and bankruptcies
  • the rain poured down
  • with Mussolini making speeches

The latest album from my favorite band, The Danish East Asia Company, emitted a ghostly hiss as it started to play through my headphones. The hiss built into a lush, haunting melody and the lyrics told a story of suicides and bankruptcies as the rain poured down in my ears. The next track was angrier, with Mussolini making speeches in Italian in the samples they had chosen to construct the complex beat.

 

bonus points for using them in order!

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Andrew Lloyd Webber Read the Theater Reviews

  • by jenthey’ve ruined my show
  • sang the last line of the song
  • that fateful morning
  • no one mocked his old lady voice
  • you are so flamboyantly much
  • hung from hooks

Andrew Lloyd Webber read the theater reviews with a sinking heart that fateful morning.

“They’ve ruined my show!” he cried.

“You are so flamboyantly much more important in your own mind than you are in the real world,” goaded his daughter Catherine.

Andrew looked at her and noticed for the first time that tiny wooden fish hung from hooks in her ears.

Catherine grabbed the paper and read the most scathing lines of the review out loud. “Gary Sinise was not the best choice for the role of Grandma Kittywhiskers. I’d like to say no one mocked his old lady voice, but I can’t. The crowd erupted in giggles repeatedly, most notably at the end of ‘Crazy Cat Lady Blues’ when he sang the last line of the song a cappella.”

Andrew hung his head in shame.

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The Latest Fad Religion

  • by jenthe most fabulous unheard-of things
  • I love my gold!
  • “Remote control, perhaps?”
  • discontinuous orthodragonality
  • some dank, phosphorescent cocoon
  • stirred the subatomic dough

The latest fad religion, Discontinuous Orthodragonality, is quickly replacing Kabbalah among the Hollywood elite. Orthodragonality priests remind the rich and famous that dragons are known for hoarding treasure, and preach that greed is desirable. They encourage Orthodragonality neophytes to become comfortable proclaiming, “I love my gold!”

Their sermons recount tales of the most fabulous unheard-of things, like the ancient silver dragon who sat in some dank, phosphorescent cocoon and stirred the subatomic dough for one week until the world was created.

At the end of the services, the believers rise together to sing a hymn, such as the all-time favorite about the mystery of how the dragons control the universe, entitled “Remote Control, Perhaps?”

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“No, no, no, no, no, Chico!”

  • by jenhe was like a cat pouncing
  • immobility his eyebrow moved
  • noticed the colour of your dressing gown
  • rather the Latin temperament
  • Not even a compromising bequest!
  • a most awkward mistake
  • They die, yes

“No, no, no, no, no, Chico!” screamed Thelonious Tharp, and Chico Desideria knew that once again he had made a most awkward mistake. Chico both admired and despised his choreographer and mentor, Thelonious. Admired him for the way that when he danced he was like a cat pouncing, despised him because he possessed rather the Latin temperament and made no move to disguise it.

Chico knew what mistake he’d made this time. He was supposed to prance and cavort, leap awkwardly in time to the arrhythmic music, and then freeze. But despite his required immobility his eyebrow moved. Thelonious was livid, as usual.

“Chico, today when you left the dressing room I noticed the colour of your dressing gown had changed and I hoped that your attitude had changed along with your sartorial choices. I was wrong! You are as useless as ever! And you know, don’t you Chico, what the parents of one as unimpressive as you do? They die, yes, die! Of shame! And they leave nothing to their disappointing offspring, Chico. Not even a compromising bequest!”

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Thelonious Tharp’s New Jazz Dance Spectacular

  • by jenso alike and yet so different
  • that question? Plum
  • commentators were criticizing
  • we packed our biological agent
  • both punk rock and rap

Thelonious Tharp’s new jazz dance spectacular, We Packed Our Biological Agent, is what the commentators were criticizing.

“Why did he incorporate both punk rock and rap?” asked Kent.

“They are so alike, and yet so different from the jazz music he should have used!” cried Jen. “What could he possibly have been thinking?”

“How can anyone answer that question? Plum, the professor, did it in the conservatory with the candlestick. That’s all I know,” said Reggie.

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Beautiful Music

r-avatarAs collaborators, you and your writing partner should strive to make beautiful music together, or least beautiful prose. But what happens when you can’t decide on what music to play in the work room?

Jen and Kent have a lot of overlap in musical tastes, most importantly agreeing on what sort of music should never, under any circumstances, be played. That’s a nice, solid base to build on. There are bands that we both enjoy, and that make pretty successful seeds for Pandora stations (although all Pandora roads seem to lead to the Strokes, who are not a favorite of either of us).

We eschew headphones in the writing cave, because we like to be able to talk to each other easily. The problems arise when Kent wants to get his prog on, or when Jen falls a little too far down the Jack White rabbit hole. When your background music becomes a distraction for your coauthor, a change must be made.

Here at Skelley Co we’ve found that The Beatles’ Love, or classical music makes a good compromise.

That or we just wait ten minutes until our son starts practicing his drums. He effectively drowns out the world. Problem solved.

Setting Prompt

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

Today we have a different kind of prompt, the setting/picture prompt. A member of our critique group brought this in for us all to try.

Here is the inspiration photo we were provided:

Lava Rocks

Kent’s Take

Evans knew he could trust Smith. He inched backwards down the sheer face, his safe descent relying on Smith to hang on to the other end of the rope because the weather-beaten basalt was too hard to drive in belaying pins.

Evans actually felt he had the better half of the job, because soon now his progress would take him into precious shade. Smith had to bake in the cruel desert sun at the edge of the drop.

It did take skill and concentration to place his feet, choosing spots between the vertical ridges of eroded lava-rock, where the folds of this infernal theatre curtain couldn’t trap his boots. He could feel the heat through his gloves, through the thick soles of his boots. The glove was becoming threadbare from gripping the abrasive stone to keep himself from swinging, so as not to fray the rope.

If his theory was right, then at the lowest point in the chasm he would see fossils, imprints of life that thrived in magma.

Finally, shade.

And then, weightlessness and swirling fear.

Smith had theories of his own.

 

Jen’s Take

by jenThe Monsters of Rock play Red Rocks

The members of Metallica regretted their experimentation with Japanese radiation the minute they grew too large for their tour bus. Luckily, in their enhugened state, the walk from Los Angeles to Denver took only half an hour.

Lars Ulrich was the first to straddle the peaks of the Rocky Mountains, and he looked around in wonder. Darkness was only just beginning to creep up from the horizon, and Lars shielded his eyes from the sun’s last rays. Below him the mountains jutted, rough primeval and snow-capped. To the east, Lars caught his first glimpse of the amphitheater nestled as it was among the peaks. The ruddy, rusty stones that gave it its name looked warm and inviting, but Lars knew they were no warmer than any of the surrounding grey rocks. The parking lot was alive with tiny moving dots of many colors, but Lars could hear nothing but the rush of icy wind around his head and the occasional roar of a passing jet.

James and the others joined Lars at last and together the Monsters of Rock gazed down upon their fans, wondering where they would find instruments large enough to play.

 

What do you think? Who handled this prompt better?