Music is the great, universal language.
Notes that touch our hearts and make our spirits soar are the international language that every culture responds to.
Maybe that’s why I’ve always held this secret dream of raising the glorious baton in front of an orchestra and moving it in the rhythm of a piece of music and watching it come to life. How absolutely amazing would that be?
And what does this have to do with writing?
Well, a lot, actually. See, I have always written to music. Mostly orchestral film scores, but always to music of some ilk. Even when I was young and trying to write plays and screenplays even before I knew the format or craft, I found a rhythm to the language through music. The tempos, colors and moods of different pieces helped me unearth pieces of my mind and heart and more importantly, the story that was trying to get out. There was a lot of fumbling in those early writing efforts but there was also tremendous excitement about getting words down that were forming into something that I was creating but also becoming something all its own, wholly apart from me. I don’t mean that odd or mystical but there is a mystery in writing that I think many writers would tell you is not of their own hand.
Right now (write now?) I’m putting down these words to James Horner’s score to The Pelican Brief. I’d never heard it until seeing the film recently, but was particularly taken with the music score during the last scene between Julia Roberts and Denzel Washington as they say goodbye after a hellish adventure together. The music, as it often does, stayed with me after the film was over and I sought it out on YouTube. It’s a beautiful, evocative soundtrack that echoes both melancholy and triumph. And listening to it helped unlock these words.
Another example is that I was thinking about a piece I wanted to write about my dad and our Saturdays together, which were always special because he worked so hard during the week. As I started putting down some images, The Sandpipers song, ‘Come Saturday Morning’, popped into my head. I hadn’t heard it in years and remembered it as the theme song to that quirky Liz Minnelli film, The Sterile Cuckoo. But I found it on YouTube and played it, and it instantly took me back to the late sixties in the fall when Dad and I would go into the backyard and I’d run long routes as he’d throw me the football. The music popped my senses open and I could smell the grass, feel the October sky around me….and I could see Dad again.
I finished the essay that day and sent it off to Alaska Airlines Magazine. They bought it, a rarity first time out and it will be in the November issue. Music helped the writing find a home once again.
Lastly, here is a link that is all about how soundtrack music has influenced and helped me, in very difficult times: http://magazine.nd.edu/news/17829-close-encounters/
So, music has always been a gentle companion in my writing and I’m grateful for its companionship.
And I’m still waiting to slice the air with the baton in front of a large orchestra….
