A part of my brain told me that I was procrastinating.
But I just listened to the half of the fake score I just cobbled together by Frankensteining a bunch of soundtracks into one coherent orchestral piece that follows my WIP's story. Alex and I went for a drive, pumped the music through the awesome Prius speakers, and at the point at the end, when the moment happens, I looked over at him, and his eyes were closed. He missed our turn when the lights changed. "You're getting it," he said. "It actually is working. You're revising using music." I knew this about myself, that I could combat my anxiety by working in another medium and then translating it over with more confidence and direction. I knew this about me when I was nineteen. And I am not going to not listen to myself again. Through motifs and variations in soundtracks, I can build and work on thread placement in my story. Through pacing of the ups and downs of the piece, I can study and control my pacing in the writing. I hope the magic continues to work. In other news, my piano comes in tomorrow, and that picture was taken this morning when we went out to the car.
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What is this?Dawson is a writer. This is her blog. In it, you shall read about reading. And writing. And cheeseburgers. Sometimes there are tangents. Huzzah. Categories
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