Music. I remember, in the days before iTunes, iPods, iPads . . . sitting in my home office and agonizing over which 300 CDs to put in my carousel CD player. Because no matter what I chose, there would be something else I wanted to listen to, and it wouldn’t be there. And then finding what I did want to listen to, was a chore.
Then Steve Jobs changed my life, again, and gave me a methodology to listen to all my music, whenever I wanted to, and to create playlists so I could hear my 5,000 most favorite songs, in random order.
I was pregnant with Beckett when I took on the task of downloading all my CDs into iTunes, if I recall correctly, it took most of the nine months to do it.
Today I’m thankful for music, but more importantly the people who create it. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I am freak when it comes to music. I’m obsessed by it. I make mix CDs, or playlists, at least once a month, because there are certain songs I want to hear over and over again, and just listening while I’m in my office, doesn’t suffice.
Tonight I’m taking Frank and his friend Noah to see Mayday Parade. Months ago, he put this on his concert list and I agreed to go with them. Then I started listening to Mayday Parade, now they're on my concert list too. I cannot wait for tonight, it’s a concert I’ve been looking forward to for weeks.
Frank will tell you, Mayday Parade’s market segment is much younger than I am. Kids like their music, mom . . . he’ll tell me. Well anyone would like their music if they listened to it. Their lyrics are compelling, their melodies haunting, their arrangements professional. They’re a good band, who I believe has a great ride ahead of them.
I listen to, and own, a lot of indie music. My friend Syd, who came and played a house concert for us in California, and played the grand opening of our gallery in Monument, said, "I don’t know how Heather found my music, spending too much time on iTunes I guess." I will never forget the night he and Patrick played on the porch of our house in California. I can hear the music if I close my eyes, I can see their faces, remember things they said, I can even remember how the moon looked that night. I can see the faces of our friends who were there to say goodbye to us. The next morning Doug left for Colorado, and the boys and I followed a few weeks later. Music adds so much to that memory. If we had a simple going-away party, I doubt I would remember much about it.
When I decided to undertake the series of books I’m writing currently, it was a musician who inspired the story. I don’t know him, I’ve never met him, and at that time, I owned very little of his music. But there was that one song, or two . . . that wound up on my favorites playlist, and a story was born.
He posted something on Twitter, and in the same way I don’t remember how or when I found his music, I also don’t remember how or why I started following him on Twitter. Random. It was completely random. One night he posted a photo of a couch, and a fire, on a deck. He wrote, "Where oh where is the girl for this couch." And I knew there was a story in that post. It made me wonder how many of us, who seemingly have everything, who one would assume would have their pick of romantic partners, are in fact, lonely or alone.
You hear it all the time, money doesn't buy happiness. Neither does fame, or notoriety, or being able to perform on stage for thousands of people. Success doesn’t do it either. Here was a guy, who one would assume, had it all. Yet he was just as lonely as the rest of us have found ourselves at some point in our lives.
I started thinking about who that guy was, what he would be like, why he was lonely and how he got to that place. And a character was born. I’m writing book three of this series now. And this character, this guy, is in all three books.
I hadn’t written a word in eight months when I stumbled on that Twitter post. I was miserable in my writing, convinced I didn’t have another book in me. Which for me, was heartbreaking. I sat down on August 15 and started writing. The story flowed through my fingers and into my computer, faster than I could type. I wrote the book this man inspired, in six weeks. And then, I started the second book, which I finished on October 31. On November 1, I started the third book and I’m thirty pages into it.
The character he inspired is no longer the central character in the story. But he’s still there. That little bit of inspiration, keeps me going. New characters, new stories, new ideas, new music . . . but the singular thing that inspired me remains.
I don’t know how to thank this person, this stranger, for giving me my writing back. Something so simple, has given me hours and hours of joy. There is little I love as much as writing. And it was MUSIC that put it all together. How could I not be thankful for it? One song, one songwriter, one musician, one person gave me the gift of writing again. We all need inspiration, for whatever we decide to take on in life. Sometimes it is tangible and we can say thank you, sometimes we just wake up and know that we’re going to do it that day, the thing we haven’t been able to do for days, or weeks, or months, or ever.
The good news, or the best news, is that both the character, and the inspiration, have love in their lives. In the time between my reading the Twitter post, and now, the real-life lonely guy has found love.
The other good news is that many people have read the book that music inspired. It is a story I’ve had the pleasure and excitement to share. In the same way these musicians get to share their music.
What must it feel like the first time they’re on stage and they realize the audience is singing along, and they know every word? It would reduce me to tears in the same way I am when someone talks about one of my characters as though they know them. Or they ask for them . . . when will you tell his or her story, they ask. I can’t wait, they say. And I turn my back and shed a tear, because they have no idea how that made me feel, how it moved me, what it means to me.
I admire people who write music, and I depend on them. I depend on them to create new music that will touch me in a way that I put my hand on my heart, or makes me want to dance, or gives me something to sing along to in the car. I am a writer. I know how difficult it is to write something that is interesting, or inspiring . . . but to add music to it? I cannot fathom how difficult that must be.
So again, today I am thankful for Syd and Brian, and all the other songwriters who bring me music and inspiration and joy.
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