Music is a feeling.
Well, obviously it’s more than that.
But it evokes feelings, and memories, and it does it more
strongly than almost anything else can do. Think about it: you’re
driving along and suddenly a song comes on the radio that you haven’t
heard in ages. Years, even. And suddenly, for that one brief second,
you’re right back where you were when you heard it the first time.
Or maybe the fiftieth time that summer or winter. Or that road trip
where you and your friend played the then-brand-new
Danzig II (on cassette!) over and over for three solid hours. Or when you sat in your then-brand-new love’s bedroom listening to the Buzzcocks and drinking beer and the whole world was out there waiting for the two of you to take it by storm. And now when you see how everybody and their brother is using “Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)” in their car ads or detergent ads or whatever else it’s almost like they’re stealing that time from you, like they’re turning it into something cheap, and it’s a physical ache in your chest. It’s a reminder of how that time is gone and you can’t ever have it back, not ever.
Danzig II (on cassette!) over and over for three solid hours. Or when you sat in your then-brand-new love’s bedroom listening to the Buzzcocks and drinking beer and the whole world was out there waiting for the two of you to take it by storm. And now when you see how everybody and their brother is using “Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)” in their car ads or detergent ads or whatever else it’s almost like they’re stealing that time from you, like they’re turning it into something cheap, and it’s a physical ache in your chest. It’s a reminder of how that time is gone and you can’t ever have it back, not ever.
But luckily most of the time it isn’t
so painful. Most of the time it’s sweet, or even funny. It’s
nostalgic, which is pain, yes, but can also be warm and cozy.
The point is that nothing can transport
you, nothing can inspire you, nothing can make you feel the way music
does.
I try to do it in writing. I want my
work to make people feel. I want it to make them remember, to think,
to really dig deep. I want it to make them lose themselves. Just like
hearing a song—not even a sad one or an old one or one full of
nostalgia, just a really good, fun one, the kind that makes you want
to roll the windows down even if it’s pouring down rain and turn
the volume up really high—can make you forget where you are, what
you were doing, so I want my books to do that. I want my readers to
feel, even for only a few minutes, that they are my characters, too,
that they live in that world. I want them to forget their troubles
and just immerse themselves.
I’m not a musician, not really. I can
play a couple of Ramones and Sex Pistols songs on the guitar; I
haven’t played in years, but I’m pretty sure I still remember
those, although I believe Buddy Holly’s “Rave On” is forever
lost to my sad little fingers.
And honestly? Sometimes I hate that I’m
not a musician. If the ticket is to make people feel, nothing does it
faster or is more accessible than music. Any music. Hell, those of
you who’ve reached a certain age can stop reading right now and
think “I’d like to teach the world to sing.” I bet you just got
all prickly-eyed, didn’t you? And that’s a commercial!
I can mention music in my books, and I
do. Those who know the songs will hopefully feel they add an extra
layer to the scenes and stories. Those who don’t, well, hopefully
it doesn’t take anything away from the scenes and stories, and
there’s always iTunes, right? I want that music in there because I
want to set the scene. I want readers, in CITY OF GHOSTS, to “hear”
those opening bars of “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and know what they
mean—what they mean to Chess, what they mean to Terrible—instantly,
without being told. I want that music in their head to make them feel
just the way the music in her ears makes Chess feel, before a word is
said about why that song is important or when it was last mentioned
in the story.
I’m always trying, you see, to evoke
what musicians can evoke. I’m always trying to take that raw
feeling and find a way to…to pin it down with words, to
transmit it in a silent medium. I want to distill that emotion and
sensation, and make the reader hear music even when there is none.
Because I think that’s the point of
art, and it’s the point of storytelling, and I think when a writer
does it well it’s like hearing that favorite song for the first
time all over again. I can’t say whether or not I do it well or
ever have, but I’ll keep trying.
Stacia Kane has been a phone
psychic, a customer service representative, a bartender, and a movie
theatre usher. Writing is more fun than all of them combined.
She currently lives with her husband and their two little girls. She wears a lot of black, still makes great cocktails, likes to play music loud in the car, and thinks Die Hard is one of the greatest movies ever made. She believes in dragons and the divine right of kings, and is a fervent Ricardian.
She currently lives with her husband and their two little girls. She wears a lot of black, still makes great cocktails, likes to play music loud in the car, and thinks Die Hard is one of the greatest movies ever made. She believes in dragons and the divine right of kings, and is a fervent Ricardian.
Stacia's website~
Stacia Kane
On Twitter~
Stacia Kane
You can find her books at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Book Depository, and at your favorite Indie bookstore.
Stacia Kane
On Twitter~
Stacia Kane
You can find her books at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Book Depository, and at your favorite Indie bookstore.
Unfreakinbelievable how accurately you nailed the concept of music. And Lucifuge...sigh. Still listen to it at least once a week.
ReplyDeleteGreat post Stacia.
Wonderful post Stacia, you really brought the point home, thank you for being here '
ReplyDeleteExactly right! This IS one of the many things I love about Stacia's books. The music she references is usually music that is from times in my life when I was living a lot like Chess so it all comes together in a really brilliant way that is so familiar and recognizable.
ReplyDelete