...And wireless, too. Did I miss anything good?
With regards to my notbook resolution:
I've typed up about half of the notebook; all of the Greenhelm stuff, and half of the short stories. There's just a few odd bits otherwise, and a chunk of The Dark which is half typed up anyway. Some of the short stories I'm really pleased with as are, others need a bit of filling in. They're predominantly ghost stories, which makes me feel anthology-ish, but I need to get at least some of them published in magazines first. There's just a sad lack of English Ghost Story mags at the moment. There's also an unexpected piece of mythological erotica that sprung itself on me towards the end of the book, about an artist who rescues a selkie. I'm now adding scenes to it, in a way that makes me feel like I could have a novella here, or even a novel, which is nice.
I started another in the new notebook, but I'm going to have to force myself to stop, because it's not going anywhere and it's dragging down a decent beginning. Too much RL Stevenson and M Shelley (and a little bit of EA Poe). It's hard, to kill something after you've put effort in, but it's stopping me from writing anything else; today I flipped the notebook round and started on an additional scenes for the above mentioned myth erotica, which was much easier and more fun. Obviously, I'm not writing the erotic parts at work!
With moving house, I've had a lot of DIY to do, and I've found myself listening to a lot of audiobooks and radioplays. I am utterly in love with The Avengers Radioplays (and the TV show, which I spent uncharacteric amounts of time and effort to obtain). I've also been listening to a bit of out-of-copyright Classic Short Stories (Vol 1) and War of the Worlds. It's alright, but some of them are read by what seems to be a Mac Computer, which is incapable of pronouncing even the simplest Surrey place name, and has no variation in tone or grasp of pacing. But War of the Worlds is too good not to listen to.
I've never really listened to audiobooks of my own volition before; as a kid I'd listen to whatever my parents were listening too, though usually miss chunks, and for long car journeys my sister and I would get some say (usually Terry Pratchett, read by Tony Robinson). Actually, that's part of the reason I started downloading them; because I had some long journeys coming up, and I wouldn't have bothered with the radioplays if it wasn't for next month's holidays. It makes it harder to write while travelling, but I'd started out with some standup CDs and realised that I'm tired enough of music on trains to sacrifice the writing time.
I wouldn't listen to an audiobook in the same way I do music - when I'm walking to work, for example - but for quiet but boring tasks, they're great. In terms of my own writing, it makes me much more keen to submit to those podfic sites, and more interested in downloading from them, too.
Having mentioned holidays, I probably won't be posting much during July. I have a family holiday 4th - 12th, and then I'm off to FatE from the 18th to the 20th (if I don't get lost in Shropshire!). I'll definitely post about that when I'm back; it's a storytelling festival with some world famous faces. I attended a few performances during the York Literary Festival, which clued me in to FatE's existance, and my general desire for a camping cultural festival that was affordable and manageable without a car pretty much confirmed for me I would go.
So, after all that moving kerfuffle, I'm probably not going to post for another month!
Sunday, June 29
Saturday, June 14
Internet Free
I've been reading Pepys' Diary, which I'll write more about later (when I've finished it). I hadn't quite clocked how much travel there was on the Thames and its tributries; apparently you were much safer in a boat than a coach, since it made it much harder to be mugged! So, something for fantasy and historical writers there: boats preferred by the middle and upper classes, when available.
I'm moving house on monday (well, fingers crossed!) so I'll be offline for a while. Perfect excuse to type up everything in my work notebook, which I'm four pages from filling now. Nice rejection from Riptide; I'm going to wait until they're accepting submissions for vol4, and send them Exoticism.
There's something quite satisfying about packing, but it seems to be generating as much mess as it's clearing, which is prompting me to run away on a regular basis. For newspaper, of course. And teapot shaped knobs for a chest of drawers ^_^
I'm moving house on monday (well, fingers crossed!) so I'll be offline for a while. Perfect excuse to type up everything in my work notebook, which I'm four pages from filling now. Nice rejection from Riptide; I'm going to wait until they're accepting submissions for vol4, and send them Exoticism.
There's something quite satisfying about packing, but it seems to be generating as much mess as it's clearing, which is prompting me to run away on a regular basis. For newspaper, of course. And teapot shaped knobs for a chest of drawers ^_^
Monday, June 2
Traditions
Traditions are weird, niggly things. You do them without question, but there is an unutterable logic to them. They get kidnapped and Stockholmed by other cultures (usually invading ones). They embarrass adolscents and young adults.
Above everything else, they have to have that sense of history. They have to make sense. The original Wicker Man did oodles of research, and every single song and dance and symbol has meaning (and impact on the plot). They're all traditions that Britons will be familiar with, in one form or another. The new Wicker Man reused the symbols without the research, and a lot of it, well, makes no sense. Why would earth-mother feminists dance around a giant phallus? It's meant to bring fertility to men.
Not that that stopped me dancing around one, when I was seven. But that's because the original meaning is often glossed over, and feminism takes the fore and says girls have a right to dance as well. Also, girls dancing with boys? Fertility. I was a May Queen attendant one year, which meant wearing blossom in my hair and standing behind the girl crowned Queen of the May. I don't know the history of that, but at a guess, it's a fertility thing. It usually is.
Birth and death are big in most folkloric traditions. Most Moris and Sword Dancing groups have a fool or mummer, who mugs for the crowd. Some more obviously represent death than others: the mummer with the fake horses skull? Definitely death. The German Fool covered from head to foot in black and coloured rags, with a trunk and a ponytail and a huge whip? Aside form being creepy as hell, also death; he represented the hundreth soldier, who went to the pub instead of to mass, and was the only one to the return from the battle alive (according to the programme for the 5th International Sword Spectacular, anyway).
Rebirth as a big theme as well, which is why so many celtic taditions snuck into Christian culture. That, and a lot of shoe-horning: egg rolling is a tradition around here. Good Luck and fecundity to anyone who's egg reaches the bottom of the hill unbroken. Various celtic goddess associations, but the gloss on it now is that it represents the stone being rolled away from Christ's tomb. And there's no reason it can't, as well.
Most festivals take place based on agricultural calendars. They celebrate agricultural events; the birth of livestock, the collection of harvest, and so on. They remind people when to plant crops or slaughter animals. Some take place when there's less work to do, because it's convenient, and some take place to help people cope with dark and dreary months. The events that take place are relevant to the season and to the roots of the festival (eggs at Easter, evergreen plants and a feast at Christmas). Most involve food in some way, and usually some dancing and dressing up.
Every tradition has to be justified, even if not outloud. Made up traditions even more so. Made up religions and cultures shouldn't share most of their traditions with actual ones. Characters should take things for granted. Everyone should get involved, even if it's just by turning up. There should be signficance in every unusual detail; the clothes, the food, the music, the games. There should be overlap and variation between regions and cultures. Their should be traditions subsumed by other cultures, with superficial glosses to make them palatable.
Traditions with origins 'lost in time' are annoying. If their origin is lost, then someone would have made another up, to justify continuing it. Traditions that are observed by every single person in exactly identical ways are absurd. Even festivals like Christmas vary from household to household, let alone country to country. Traditions with symbolism that doesn't match the culture need justification, and traditions that rely on objects not readily available shouldn't exist! Traditions that occur at awkward times of the year (and even on exact dates, in some cultures) are improbable. Most have some root in the agricultural calendar; you can't abandon lambing ewes to spend a week dancing around a bonfire, or disappear into a retreat during the middle of harvest.
It's easy to get sick of equinox and solstice festivals in fantasy, but at least they're dates that people would recognise and could predict (nd were less likely to be insanely busy on). That they're the same in every book is a little depressing; there's enough real world variation to give people some ideas, surely. Festivals that take place on arbitrary dates in worlds without exact calendars (which so many have, for no apparant reason) are jolting, especially if there's no tie to an event or figure. Lunar cues are great, or events like the first brith of a lamb, or the first snowfall.
Lunar calendars always make me think of months. Months are fairly standard in fantasy books as a measure of times, but I'll never understand the prevalence of weeks. They only make sense when 7 is a significant number, since there are few natural cues. But calendars, in detail, is a subject for another post.
Above everything else, they have to have that sense of history. They have to make sense. The original Wicker Man did oodles of research, and every single song and dance and symbol has meaning (and impact on the plot). They're all traditions that Britons will be familiar with, in one form or another. The new Wicker Man reused the symbols without the research, and a lot of it, well, makes no sense. Why would earth-mother feminists dance around a giant phallus? It's meant to bring fertility to men.
Not that that stopped me dancing around one, when I was seven. But that's because the original meaning is often glossed over, and feminism takes the fore and says girls have a right to dance as well. Also, girls dancing with boys? Fertility. I was a May Queen attendant one year, which meant wearing blossom in my hair and standing behind the girl crowned Queen of the May. I don't know the history of that, but at a guess, it's a fertility thing. It usually is.
Birth and death are big in most folkloric traditions. Most Moris and Sword Dancing groups have a fool or mummer, who mugs for the crowd. Some more obviously represent death than others: the mummer with the fake horses skull? Definitely death. The German Fool covered from head to foot in black and coloured rags, with a trunk and a ponytail and a huge whip? Aside form being creepy as hell, also death; he represented the hundreth soldier, who went to the pub instead of to mass, and was the only one to the return from the battle alive (according to the programme for the 5th International Sword Spectacular, anyway).
Rebirth as a big theme as well, which is why so many celtic taditions snuck into Christian culture. That, and a lot of shoe-horning: egg rolling is a tradition around here. Good Luck and fecundity to anyone who's egg reaches the bottom of the hill unbroken. Various celtic goddess associations, but the gloss on it now is that it represents the stone being rolled away from Christ's tomb. And there's no reason it can't, as well.
Most festivals take place based on agricultural calendars. They celebrate agricultural events; the birth of livestock, the collection of harvest, and so on. They remind people when to plant crops or slaughter animals. Some take place when there's less work to do, because it's convenient, and some take place to help people cope with dark and dreary months. The events that take place are relevant to the season and to the roots of the festival (eggs at Easter, evergreen plants and a feast at Christmas). Most involve food in some way, and usually some dancing and dressing up.
Every tradition has to be justified, even if not outloud. Made up traditions even more so. Made up religions and cultures shouldn't share most of their traditions with actual ones. Characters should take things for granted. Everyone should get involved, even if it's just by turning up. There should be signficance in every unusual detail; the clothes, the food, the music, the games. There should be overlap and variation between regions and cultures. Their should be traditions subsumed by other cultures, with superficial glosses to make them palatable.
Traditions with origins 'lost in time' are annoying. If their origin is lost, then someone would have made another up, to justify continuing it. Traditions that are observed by every single person in exactly identical ways are absurd. Even festivals like Christmas vary from household to household, let alone country to country. Traditions with symbolism that doesn't match the culture need justification, and traditions that rely on objects not readily available shouldn't exist! Traditions that occur at awkward times of the year (and even on exact dates, in some cultures) are improbable. Most have some root in the agricultural calendar; you can't abandon lambing ewes to spend a week dancing around a bonfire, or disappear into a retreat during the middle of harvest.
It's easy to get sick of equinox and solstice festivals in fantasy, but at least they're dates that people would recognise and could predict (nd were less likely to be insanely busy on). That they're the same in every book is a little depressing; there's enough real world variation to give people some ideas, surely. Festivals that take place on arbitrary dates in worlds without exact calendars (which so many have, for no apparant reason) are jolting, especially if there's no tie to an event or figure. Lunar cues are great, or events like the first brith of a lamb, or the first snowfall.
Lunar calendars always make me think of months. Months are fairly standard in fantasy books as a measure of times, but I'll never understand the prevalence of weeks. They only make sense when 7 is a significant number, since there are few natural cues. But calendars, in detail, is a subject for another post.
Saturday, May 24
A day off? Say it ain't so!
I have been working, every day, for the last fifteen days. I have two jobs - one in a shop, one day a week, and one in a museum 3+ days a week - but the museum needed someone to cover one of the office staff, so I've been doing that too. It's been good, but it's been wearing.
I've not been writing for two reasons (both tangentally related to all the work). Firstly, I've been reading Guy Gavriel Kay, and reading fantasy tends to stop me writing fantasy. It's one of the reasons that I stopped reading much when I started getting serious about Greenhelm; that, and I have a problem with picking up 'inspiration'. One of the reasons I write is to provide myself with the stories I want to read; when other authors provide them, I lose all motivation.
The other reason I've not been writing is because I've been in the office. When I'm in the main museum, I have my notebook. I have nothing to do when there aren't visitors. When I'm in the office, there's usually somethig to do, or something that makes it look like I'm doing something, anyway. So I've not been writing at work, and I've been too tired and sick of computers to write at home.
But I want to. I'm not someone who gets writers block; whether or not I write usually depends on how lazy I am. But being unable to write gives me a sort of creative constipation. I can feel the narratives behind my eyeballs. I've done a little work on Greenhelm, but I've not written anything fresh.
But this is my first day off in fifteen days, and I'm back at work tomorrow, so I'm spending today mostly sleeping, eating, and watching Eurovision.
Oh, and watching Sword Dancing in York. I do love my city. When I'm back to a semi-normal working pattern, I'm going to post about traditions and rituals in fantasy, or 'Why the original Wickerman got it Right, and the new one Wrong".
I've not been writing for two reasons (both tangentally related to all the work). Firstly, I've been reading Guy Gavriel Kay, and reading fantasy tends to stop me writing fantasy. It's one of the reasons that I stopped reading much when I started getting serious about Greenhelm; that, and I have a problem with picking up 'inspiration'. One of the reasons I write is to provide myself with the stories I want to read; when other authors provide them, I lose all motivation.
The other reason I've not been writing is because I've been in the office. When I'm in the main museum, I have my notebook. I have nothing to do when there aren't visitors. When I'm in the office, there's usually somethig to do, or something that makes it look like I'm doing something, anyway. So I've not been writing at work, and I've been too tired and sick of computers to write at home.
But I want to. I'm not someone who gets writers block; whether or not I write usually depends on how lazy I am. But being unable to write gives me a sort of creative constipation. I can feel the narratives behind my eyeballs. I've done a little work on Greenhelm, but I've not written anything fresh.
But this is my first day off in fifteen days, and I'm back at work tomorrow, so I'm spending today mostly sleeping, eating, and watching Eurovision.
Oh, and watching Sword Dancing in York. I do love my city. When I'm back to a semi-normal working pattern, I'm going to post about traditions and rituals in fantasy, or 'Why the original Wickerman got it Right, and the new one Wrong".
Saturday, May 3
Review: Books. Also: Music is noise, nicely arranged
What: The Recording Angel - Music, Records and Culure from Aristotle to Zappa
How: Non Fiction
Who: Evan Eisenberg
When: 1987
Grade: C+
I purchased this book originally because it had a chapter I needed to read for my degree. The engaging tone and interesting subject matter encouraged me to keep it, and read the whole thing at some point. Well, now I have.
First off, the subtitle is pretty misleading. There's very little information about music further prior to the Rennaissance, and it's very Euro-centric. It's a shame, because there's huge scope for exploration in those areas. However, the book makes clear early on that its focus is the recording of music, and how it's altered our attitudes towards it. It alternates between interviews with acquaintances of the author and chapters on the history and philosophy of music.
The interviews were by far the more interesting chapters, but the limited range is unfortunate. All of those interviewed are collectors of some kind, from various backgrounds. The viewpoints of people within the industry could have broadened this, but would have required a more active form of research, which the author seems shy of. In the interviews, they discuss why the indiviudals became collector, what they listen to music for, and how far they will go in their collections. Some have filled their houses with records, other with music systems, and some with only a few choice pieces. It is interesting to see how these audiophiles approach their love from various angles, but we are left bereft of teh opinions of any person who is not an audiophile.
Equally, the philosophical discussions are very heavily biased towards the audiophile, and while the author avoids explicit musical snobbery, that it exists is a constant topic. How music ought to be listened to, which music, where, and why. Can we listen to Handel in the bath? Should one listen to monastic chants while making breakfast? Could one play Blues in a church? Does it matter?
The main thrust of the book (and the one that I studied it for) was the impact of the recording. It is likened to the invention of the printing press, or even the written owrd, and not wrongly so. It's quite a large concept to wrap your head around, in these iPod days, that only a hundred years ago music was almost entirely a social event, and could not be produced on demand. Unless you were a musician (and had a singular taste for solos) then there was no way to be alone and listen to music. Unless you were wealthy enough to have a minstrel always on hand, you could not have music unless prearranged and scheduled. The point comes up again and again, and is thoroughly explored, which pleased me. Of course, considering the publication date, the walkman is a relatively new invention, and the impact that the internet has had on music is completely absent. It's a shame, because I think Eisenberg could go far explorin these areas, and I hope that the book is rereleased containing such discussion.
Eisenberg's tone is fun and engaging. The intimacy he has with his interviewees is not to be overlooked, and the personal tone is present throughout the book. It is, of course, a book intended for audiophiles (which I am not), but it is accessible to those who aren't; however, it does feel lacking as a result. Obviously, when writing a book like this, one mst limit oneself in some way, but the areas left unexplored leave nasty shadows, and in places it feels more like a deliberate decision not to stretch himself, rather than a determination to stay on topic. I found it hard to concentrate when Eisenberg chose to delve deeply into philosophies that were only relevant if you already shared his attitudes.
Overall, it's a very enjoyable read, but it has several shortfalls, and best belongs on the shelves of those with a mass of musician biographies and a room dedicated to records.
I confess:
I don't care about music. I listen to it, almost constantly, but I don't care about it. It doesn't move me. I don't ascribe any ceremony to it. I enjoy it, but I don't love it.
The above book was a bit of an odd choice for me, I'll admit.
With books and DVDs, I get rid of those I dislike. I don't want them to sit next to favourites, to pollute my cramped shelves. With music... I have piles of CDs (in a sadly literal sense, since I still haven't bought more racks for them, and they don't fit in my room), most of which I'm at best ambivilant to. I've still got the first ones I bought. It's partly my nature as a bit of a hoarder, but also because I don't feel strongly enough to give them away, despite the fact I don't listen to them any more.
I picked up Holst's The Planets today, because after a recent discussion I decided they might be nice to write to. Also, it's only of the only classical suites I can easily recognise. I like classical music, but I can't tell my Beethoven from my Brahms, and most of those I can name have appeared on television adverts.
Actually, most of my recent purchases were due to TV ads. That's my main motivator, these days, when buying music. I listen to the radio every morning, but even when I really enjoy a track (I'm Gonna Be a Rockstar, for example) I rarely make an effort to purchase it. I don't download music. I don't listen to it while I'm surfing the web. I don't notice when it's not there, to be honest.
I know several audiophiles who would love The Recording Angel. I know people who buy favourites in both CD and vinyl, so they can listen to the CD and hoard the vinyl. I know people who give every writing project a separate soundtrack. I know people who think Best Of collections are a crime against music.
I like Best Of collections, because it saves me wasting money on albums that I may only like a few tracks on. I like compilations, too; the Happy Songs album, or the Hist of MoTown, or Celtic Forever. I'm actually not very keen on most albms, because there'll usually be a few songs I hate, and I have a few CDs purchased this year that I've not listened to all the way through, because I love the first tracks, and don't care about the middle, and I usually reach my destination before the end. I don't make many playlists, because I find the making of them quite dull.
If I remember, I do put music on when I'm writing. I think my writing playlist at the moment contains indiscriminate Enya, Einaudi, Vashti Bunyan and Medieval Babes tracks. Whole albums plonked in, despite the fact there are several distracting or disliked tracks amongst them. I avoid tracks with lyrics (or lyrics I might start listening to, anyway), and try and stick to classical or new age music. I dodge anything with a noticeable mood to it, whether happy or angry (I don't have much sad, because I don't like angsty music any more than I like angsty writing). I use it more to block out other sounds than to creat sound itself.
Music is another thing people can make you feel like a poor writer over. It's another thing I occaisonally feel compelled to lie about. Not being touched by music is, apparently, like not having a soul. Well, maybe I don't, because I'm never touched by poetry, either, and that's apparently another symptom. I don't assigned songs to characters, or use music to produce the right mood, or require it to write. I much prefer the sound of rain, to be honest, but if could only write during thunderstorms I'd be screwed.
Music is noise nicely arranged. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't miss it if I went deaf, but it wouldn't be the first thing I missed. I appreciate its presence on the radio (much more so than DJ chatter), and I feel odd when I don't have it when walking, but it simply doesn't affect me when writing.
To be honest, when I'm writing, you could switch from Mars to the Spice Girls, and I prbably wouldn't notice. I'm listening to myself, then.
How: Non Fiction
Who: Evan Eisenberg
When: 1987
Grade: C+
I purchased this book originally because it had a chapter I needed to read for my degree. The engaging tone and interesting subject matter encouraged me to keep it, and read the whole thing at some point. Well, now I have.
First off, the subtitle is pretty misleading. There's very little information about music further prior to the Rennaissance, and it's very Euro-centric. It's a shame, because there's huge scope for exploration in those areas. However, the book makes clear early on that its focus is the recording of music, and how it's altered our attitudes towards it. It alternates between interviews with acquaintances of the author and chapters on the history and philosophy of music.
The interviews were by far the more interesting chapters, but the limited range is unfortunate. All of those interviewed are collectors of some kind, from various backgrounds. The viewpoints of people within the industry could have broadened this, but would have required a more active form of research, which the author seems shy of. In the interviews, they discuss why the indiviudals became collector, what they listen to music for, and how far they will go in their collections. Some have filled their houses with records, other with music systems, and some with only a few choice pieces. It is interesting to see how these audiophiles approach their love from various angles, but we are left bereft of teh opinions of any person who is not an audiophile.
Equally, the philosophical discussions are very heavily biased towards the audiophile, and while the author avoids explicit musical snobbery, that it exists is a constant topic. How music ought to be listened to, which music, where, and why. Can we listen to Handel in the bath? Should one listen to monastic chants while making breakfast? Could one play Blues in a church? Does it matter?
The main thrust of the book (and the one that I studied it for) was the impact of the recording. It is likened to the invention of the printing press, or even the written owrd, and not wrongly so. It's quite a large concept to wrap your head around, in these iPod days, that only a hundred years ago music was almost entirely a social event, and could not be produced on demand. Unless you were a musician (and had a singular taste for solos) then there was no way to be alone and listen to music. Unless you were wealthy enough to have a minstrel always on hand, you could not have music unless prearranged and scheduled. The point comes up again and again, and is thoroughly explored, which pleased me. Of course, considering the publication date, the walkman is a relatively new invention, and the impact that the internet has had on music is completely absent. It's a shame, because I think Eisenberg could go far explorin these areas, and I hope that the book is rereleased containing such discussion.
Eisenberg's tone is fun and engaging. The intimacy he has with his interviewees is not to be overlooked, and the personal tone is present throughout the book. It is, of course, a book intended for audiophiles (which I am not), but it is accessible to those who aren't; however, it does feel lacking as a result. Obviously, when writing a book like this, one mst limit oneself in some way, but the areas left unexplored leave nasty shadows, and in places it feels more like a deliberate decision not to stretch himself, rather than a determination to stay on topic. I found it hard to concentrate when Eisenberg chose to delve deeply into philosophies that were only relevant if you already shared his attitudes.
Overall, it's a very enjoyable read, but it has several shortfalls, and best belongs on the shelves of those with a mass of musician biographies and a room dedicated to records.
I confess:
I don't care about music. I listen to it, almost constantly, but I don't care about it. It doesn't move me. I don't ascribe any ceremony to it. I enjoy it, but I don't love it.
The above book was a bit of an odd choice for me, I'll admit.
With books and DVDs, I get rid of those I dislike. I don't want them to sit next to favourites, to pollute my cramped shelves. With music... I have piles of CDs (in a sadly literal sense, since I still haven't bought more racks for them, and they don't fit in my room), most of which I'm at best ambivilant to. I've still got the first ones I bought. It's partly my nature as a bit of a hoarder, but also because I don't feel strongly enough to give them away, despite the fact I don't listen to them any more.
I picked up Holst's The Planets today, because after a recent discussion I decided they might be nice to write to. Also, it's only of the only classical suites I can easily recognise. I like classical music, but I can't tell my Beethoven from my Brahms, and most of those I can name have appeared on television adverts.
Actually, most of my recent purchases were due to TV ads. That's my main motivator, these days, when buying music. I listen to the radio every morning, but even when I really enjoy a track (I'm Gonna Be a Rockstar, for example) I rarely make an effort to purchase it. I don't download music. I don't listen to it while I'm surfing the web. I don't notice when it's not there, to be honest.
I know several audiophiles who would love The Recording Angel. I know people who buy favourites in both CD and vinyl, so they can listen to the CD and hoard the vinyl. I know people who give every writing project a separate soundtrack. I know people who think Best Of collections are a crime against music.
I like Best Of collections, because it saves me wasting money on albums that I may only like a few tracks on. I like compilations, too; the Happy Songs album, or the Hist of MoTown, or Celtic Forever. I'm actually not very keen on most albms, because there'll usually be a few songs I hate, and I have a few CDs purchased this year that I've not listened to all the way through, because I love the first tracks, and don't care about the middle, and I usually reach my destination before the end. I don't make many playlists, because I find the making of them quite dull.
If I remember, I do put music on when I'm writing. I think my writing playlist at the moment contains indiscriminate Enya, Einaudi, Vashti Bunyan and Medieval Babes tracks. Whole albums plonked in, despite the fact there are several distracting or disliked tracks amongst them. I avoid tracks with lyrics (or lyrics I might start listening to, anyway), and try and stick to classical or new age music. I dodge anything with a noticeable mood to it, whether happy or angry (I don't have much sad, because I don't like angsty music any more than I like angsty writing). I use it more to block out other sounds than to creat sound itself.
Music is another thing people can make you feel like a poor writer over. It's another thing I occaisonally feel compelled to lie about. Not being touched by music is, apparently, like not having a soul. Well, maybe I don't, because I'm never touched by poetry, either, and that's apparently another symptom. I don't assigned songs to characters, or use music to produce the right mood, or require it to write. I much prefer the sound of rain, to be honest, but if could only write during thunderstorms I'd be screwed.
Music is noise nicely arranged. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't miss it if I went deaf, but it wouldn't be the first thing I missed. I appreciate its presence on the radio (much more so than DJ chatter), and I feel odd when I don't have it when walking, but it simply doesn't affect me when writing.
To be honest, when I'm writing, you could switch from Mars to the Spice Girls, and I prbably wouldn't notice. I'm listening to myself, then.
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