The thing for authors—especially young adult ones—to do these days is to create PLAYLISTS for their novels. I've written song lists for SOUNDTRACKS (because I see my stories as movies in my head) for all my writing, beginning twenty years ago.
Yes, with the first novel-length story I began at the age of fourteen, I had an inspiring soundtrack of hair bands. Ever visit me in my teens? My walls were filled with photos from Metal Edge magazine and posters bought at the local Sam Goody's or Spencer Gifts.
I was the renegade rocker—the walking oxymoron. I had a “Youth Gone Wild” Skid Row t-shirt but never skipped school or done anything worthy of arrest. I spent my money on cassettes/CDs, magazines, posters, concert tickets, t-shirts... my teen idols were long haired crooners, beat thumping bass players, and those glorious keyboarders.
But I'd always had a wide range of musical taste. I bought J.S. Bach albums while wearing my denim-and-leather jacket (I was told by the sales associate “you don't look like the powdered wig type.)
It isn't Christmas until The Beach Boys album is on the stereo.
And I still love a little “Motownphilly”, “The One and Only”, “Forever Your Girl”, and “Electric Youth.” Can you name the artists who sing those songs?
To bring my old school soundtrack to the new century, I'm including YouTube links to the BEST videos I found for my odd assortment of songs that express the themes and emotions of Corroded, in chronological order. Yes, there is a heavy dose of Rick Nelson. I adore him—the original teen idol.
Take a few minutes and watch—but more importantly LISTEN—to the songs you aren't familiar with. Enjoy!
Hello Mary Lou (Main character's name, with a groovy 70s vibe.)
Young Emotions (Ricky was so smooth and dreamy...)
Weird (Now this is a WEIRD video! First time seeing it.)
The Very Thought of You (He's so much better than Elvis.)
String Along (Never enough Rick!)
Burning Down Inside (Peppy live version with a bonus song on the end, because Tyketto rocks.)
You Are a Tourist (Song I heard on the local independent radio station last month. It struck me.)
Anybody Listening? (A profound sound with amazing vocals--Geoff Tate of Queensryche is the bomb.)
Tears of the Dragon (I could listen to this song over and over again—and have.)
Dying to Be Alive (Yes, two Hanson songs. They both fit.)
Somewhere I Belong (About as heavy as I get...)
Start from the Dark (By my FAVORITE band. Long live Europe!)
Spirit of the Underdog (They rock and had two songs to fit the mood, back-to-back.)
Right Before Your Eyes (Rick Nelson's sons.)
Life (Amazing what you can find on YouTube!)
And as a tribute, because I just found this and the hair is awesomely 80s.
Are you ready to read Corroded now? Let me know your comments—either here or on Twitter or FaceBook. Thanks for stopping by!
Friday, August 12, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
They Speak--I Listen
On my July 6th blog I coined the term “fantabutitus” and spoke of my always pleasant encounters with those I admire. Amid the telling I said:
I'm a dedicated fan, loyal to those who speak to me
even when the spotlight has moved on to newer faces.
(Speak to me? Yes, speak to me. I shall blog about that next time.)
And the next blog happened weeks later, recapping my month spent hiding among literature while the house was over-run with nephews and nieces. Of which I need to add:
and
And then I posted a blog tag question game. Fluffy fun.
If you haven't before, take a look at my profile and see the listing of my favorite authors/books, musicians, actors/movies, etc. Not the standard answers!
So, without further ado, I shall describe the Wonderlonian philosophy of what creates the fantabulous connection to the brilliant artists I esteem.
It's my belief that each individual was born as a spirit child of a Heavenly Father and Mother before being born on earth. As such, we had a pre-mortal life, which is how I believe memories of “past lives” occur. If we were angels, for lack of a better term, watching over those already on Earth, then we might recall glimpses of events that occurred before we were born. Maybe we were even assigned people to watch over—only time will tell.
But as spirits waiting around in heaven to be born to Earthly parents, wouldn't we have had friendships? We had to pass the time somehow. Maybe there were cloud bands and theater guilds and painting-by-star clubs or something. Suppose some of us were sent down to whisper muse-like into the ears of philosophers and writers. The possibilities are endless.
When I see a piece of art, hear a song, read something, or see a performance it either speaks to me or it doesn't. Some voices and melodies are so familiar, I know I've heard them before. Some paintings I feel like I've lived in the landscapes of, in some other-worldly time.
There isn't much in this world that I will say I “hate” or even “dislike”. My favorite response is “it's okay, but it doesn't speak to me.” I can't say “it's not my style” because my style (some will swear I have none) is all over the place musically, literary, artistically.
What better way to describe a connection to another soul than by feeling that you were friends before? The ultimate kindred spirits.
What's your philosophy?
I'm a dedicated fan, loyal to those who speak to me
even when the spotlight has moved on to newer faces.
(Speak to me? Yes, speak to me. I shall blog about that next time.)
And the next blog happened weeks later, recapping my month spent hiding among literature while the house was over-run with nephews and nieces. Of which I need to add:
and
And then I posted a blog tag question game. Fluffy fun.
If you haven't before, take a look at my profile and see the listing of my favorite authors/books, musicians, actors/movies, etc. Not the standard answers!
So, without further ado, I shall describe the Wonderlonian philosophy of what creates the fantabulous connection to the brilliant artists I esteem.
It's my belief that each individual was born as a spirit child of a Heavenly Father and Mother before being born on earth. As such, we had a pre-mortal life, which is how I believe memories of “past lives” occur. If we were angels, for lack of a better term, watching over those already on Earth, then we might recall glimpses of events that occurred before we were born. Maybe we were even assigned people to watch over—only time will tell.
But as spirits waiting around in heaven to be born to Earthly parents, wouldn't we have had friendships? We had to pass the time somehow. Maybe there were cloud bands and theater guilds and painting-by-star clubs or something. Suppose some of us were sent down to whisper muse-like into the ears of philosophers and writers. The possibilities are endless.
When I see a piece of art, hear a song, read something, or see a performance it either speaks to me or it doesn't. Some voices and melodies are so familiar, I know I've heard them before. Some paintings I feel like I've lived in the landscapes of, in some other-worldly time.
There isn't much in this world that I will say I “hate” or even “dislike”. My favorite response is “it's okay, but it doesn't speak to me.” I can't say “it's not my style” because my style (some will swear I have none) is all over the place musically, literary, artistically.
What better way to describe a connection to another soul than by feeling that you were friends before? The ultimate kindred spirits.
What's your philosophy?
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