Writing Through Music

OR: Please let me scream about Florence + The Machine

Recently, I found myself with a two-hour drive ahead of me where I would be utterly and completely alone. Clouds hung low over the mountains in the distance. Rain—the kind of West Coast rain that seems to be more a pervasive dampness than actual drops—spattered the windshield with irregularity. And I had a freshly purchased copy of Dance Fever ready to feed through my car’s stereo.

I’d been flirting with a few songs on YouTube for the last few weeks, listening to “King” and “Free” in the kitchen while making lunches and folding laundry and half-listening as obnoxious ads interrupted the flow of music. It’s been a long time (years?) since I had the chance to listen to a new (to me) album from start to finish, but Dance Fever had been stirring something in me, and so when I pulled out onto the highway, I hit play on track one and let it run.

And oh my god oh my god oh my GOD.

Piercing drumbeats and the brilliant lyrics and her unseelie voice. It felt like I was witnessing an ancient witch being resurrected in a storm of shattered feathers and blood-stained fingers, while every single one of the grasping gods and men who had betrayed her kneeled in terror. There’s rage and the raw strength of tearing down deities, and then there’s also a painful threshold of raw honesty and what felt like her heartbeat, bloody and ragged, laid out for anyone who would listen.

And as I listened—alone in my car, alone between the grey road and the grey skies—an onslaught of images and colours and feelings and vibes and characters rose up. It felt like a whole universe opened up in me listening to this album.

I have a favourite exercise I like to do in my writer’s block workshops: play a piece of music, instrumental or not (movie soundtracks are fantastic), and listen with your eyes closed. Become aware of where in your body you feel the music, what emotions or vibes it brings up. Is there a character that walks into your mind? Can you see a scene unfolding like in a film? When the piece ends, open your eyes and free write for five solid minutes, listing anything and everything that wandered through your mind. Go for at least five minutes, but keep writing if the ideas are flowing. Often it’ll be an incoherent jumble, but sometimes you’ll find a seed that can grow into a flash piece, a fully-realized character, a nightmare or a novel.

A few that have worked for me:

“Dream Girl Evil” Florence + The Machine

The first four minutes of this choral compilation.

“Wolves of the Revolution” by The Arcadian Wild

This Nordic lullaby, “The Wolf Song”

“Curses” by The Crane Wives

“Le Moulin” from the Amelie Soundtrack

No doubt you have favourite pieces that never fail to make you feel something. Next time you sit down with pen in hand, try using your ears and your heart to discover something new.

Happy writing, friends!

PS: There are still a few spots available in my February 25 Character Development writing workshop, registration and more info here.