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I use music so that when I play that particular piece, I know I’m working on this book. It gets me in the mind set, the groove, whatever. But there comes a point in any book that is over six hundred pages when the music chosen is no longer fun. So you pick different music. Well, now that music is no longer fun. I hit Audioslave this morning, and instead of going, oh, yea, I went oh, shit. The music has become wedded to the difficulty of the book. I’ve had other albums with other much shorter books do the same thing. Sting’s album, Mercurary Falling, I believe, took me years to be able to listen to even over the radio without feeling hunched and miserable. Any music that you listen to night after night (whatever book the Sting album was used as back ground music to, was written a lot at night) when everyone else got to go to bed hours ago, well, you begin to feel punished. I know this happens. I sort of hate when it happens because I choose music I like to listen to, and now I no longer enjoy it. At least Anita books work that way. I may have gotten enough different albums all glommed together on an MP3 player for Merry, that I’m actually looking forward to listening to the same music I listened to last time. We’ll see if it works. But not today.
Today, I am in the last bit of DANSE MACABRE. So many scenes that didn’t get used. New characters that never made it on stage. Some really cool scenes that I’d spent months enjoying the thought of, and they are not to be. At least, not this book. Some will get to be used later in another book. That’s one of the good things about writing an on-going series. But some scenes are gone, never to be. Choices made, or not made. I think I am finally at the end of this book, or close, perilously close. We’ll see.
I don’t want to get out new music with the end in my hands, because then I’ve ruined a new album that might have got me through six hundred pages, and I’ve blown it on a hundred. So I’m trying to hold fast to the Audioslave. Nickleback is no more. I can’t listen to it anymore. I just can’t. I have two albums of Audioslave. They will either see me through these last pages, or I’ll have to sacrifice new music to the end of the book. Sigh.
I wrote the above in the morning before work. Ten pages later and a luncheon date with a friend, and back to it. Mood is low enough that I’ve got the Charlie Brown Christmas Album on the player. Nothing says, please God, let me finish this book like Yuletide cheer.