Textcalibur!

I should have been a musician. I think it’s something of a blessing in disguise that I’m not, though, considering how atrocious my singing is. None the less, I think I should have been one. Explanation forthcoming.

I was reading an article recently discussing some writer’s ‘writuals’ – habits that they’ve formed over the course of the professional or not-so-professional careers. Whilst every other aspect of their daily working routines varied widely, they uniformly professed to an inability to write if they were listening to music.

I, on the other hand, cannot write in silence. I simply can’t. My obsession with musical accompaniments to my writing is so severe that I form new playlists for each writing project, whether it’s a would-be novel, a short story or even a short poem. Certain songs simply capture the feeling I get when writing about a particular character or a particular story, and I find that listening to them facilitates my ability to say what I want.

The problem is, I want to capture not only that feeling, but also the music. Melodies swim in my head as I write and I try as hard as I can to put them to words, but it’s an impossible equation. You cannot translate music to prose. Still I feel like once I can do that, I will have achieved what I want from my attempts at writing. So I try and try and try again. One of these days, I’ll succeed.

In other news, work is Hell. I apologize for all of the unanswered e-mails sitting in my inbox; I promise I will attend to them as soon as I can. Right now the venture is forking in a million directions and it’s just madness trying to keep everything under control. If we can manage it, then things should ease up soon and I can maybe, hopefully breathe again.