Spending time telling yourself stories requires a soundtrack. I write in all kinds of places, from shopping malls, to barrooms, to the back office of a commercial tire shop, to an actual office where writing is supposed to be done. Each one of these places has a unique soundtrack. It may be murmuring voices, the hush of Muzak over the PA, the rattle of bottles and glasses, or the infinite selection available on iTunes. I enjoy the variety not only of the venues, but also of the white noise around me.
As would be expected, a good soundtrack enhances the story. Of course, you can’t hear the soundtrack of the written word. Nonetheless, the words can be infused with the mood and style of the music. Film school taught me to pay as much attention to the audio as to the visual aspects of a scene. It would be foolish to ignore the same simply because books are not inherently auditory in nature. In fact, one of the great things about reading is how the imagination fills in the sights, sounds, smells, and feel of the words on the page.
If I’m having difficulty working on a particular part of a story, I’ll change my writing venue or music as a sort of kick-in-the-pants way of getting things going. This typically works. I chalk it up to not having the right soundtrack.
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