Music and Me . . . and Words and Sentences

Three years ago, Oldest Daughter said I should get an iPod. Why would I want one of those, I asked. I had my CDs, years' worth of accumulations. "trust me, you want one," she said.

On Christmas morning . . . thanks to a Significant Other who shops on Christmas Eve and was DESPERATE (as he always is) for something, anything to get me (believe me, I have been gifted with things from the local grocery store!), I got an 80GB video iPod.

So I stuck 50 songs on. OK, cool. It saved me from getting up and fiddling with the CD changer. Then I started loading my CDs on my iPod. Also cool. I got to pick the best stuff . . . I ended up with, I don't know, a couple of hundred. I used to work as a DJ in a couple of dive (and I mean dive) bars . . . so I had always liked picking and choosing songs. I had my own show on my college radio station where there was no playlist so I could play Peter Gabriel . . . and then Morrissey . . . and then, what the heck, Thomas Dolby. My best friend Pammie, whose musical iPod collection is probably over 10,000 songs, called me a piker. Then I got competitive. I hoped to get over 500 songs. That was 3,000+ songs ago, more if you count all the stuff on Oldest's collection.

I think of music as like being a connoisseur. For someone like Oldest, who is a musician, I am sure it's even more so. For a jazz buff like my Dad (10,000 rare records and sound checks), same thing. He can spot a single riff from one song recording in 1940 and tell you who's playing the instrument.

I suppose as a writer, it's the same thing. I can spot a WORD that just rocks my world. Like my favorite word in the whole world. Only a writer would adore a word for superior mirages. I love that word. Adore it. Turn it over in my head when it comes to me at odd times. It's a perfect word.

Same thing with sentences. I can fiddle with a first line in one of my books for days. Hours. I'll write the sentence. Fiddle. Change a word. Come back to it. Excise words (always like my first sentences to be lean). Maybe think of starting somewhere else. Come back to the original.

Like a musician, I guess, fiddling with a chord. Or Oldest Daughter practicing. I will hear her play something so beautiful it takes my breath away--only to hear her stop and replay five notes over and over again until she is satisfied with the sound. She hears what I cannot.

I suppose I see on the page what others cannot.

Got a favorite word?

Favorite piece of music? Favorite song? Favorite group?

And speaking of music, check out these friends of Mark Terry's!

You can always listen to my favorite Belgian Gypsy guitarist.

Or check out my favorite short story ever.

Thoughts? Share!