Guest post written by author Marc Watson
Marc Watson is an author of genre fiction of all lengths and styles. He began writing at the age of 15 and continues to be a part-time writing student at Athabasca University. His debut novel Death Dresses Poorly was released in 2017, followed closely by duology Catching Hell: Journey & Destination. His new book, the 5-star rated story anthology Between Conversations: Tales From the World of Ryuujin is available as of September 25th, 2020. Marc lives in Calgary, Alberta. He is a husband and proud father of two. He is an avid outdoors-man, martial artist, baseball player, poutine aficionado, and lover of all Mexican foods.He can be found at online, as well as on Facebook, and on Twitter and Instagram at @writewatson.
Music was always a part of my life. My parents record collection was (and remains) formidable. In the 80s when we only had cartoons on for a few hours on a Saturday, all the other time was filled with albums spinning, sitting in the background like a life soundtrack. I never realized it until I was older and the sounds became silence and I began to fill the void on my own, and the power of music was never more apparent to me than the first time I sat at a keyboard and started editing. No, not writing. Music is the motivation behind my best red-pen sessions.
I never fell into pop and top forty. I suppose there was a brief time when I was a young teenager and it was on my radio. At least enough for me to appreciate it for what it was. Following that, there was the years I was desperate to search out something that spoke to me more. I dodged the Nirvana and grunge bullet. Again, it was… fine. It was fine. However, if I never heard Smells Like Teen Spirit again in my life, I wouldn’t feel as if I was missing something important.
I remember walking home from school blasting whatever hard rock and metal was popular at the time, and letting that form the worlds that would eventually become my Ryuujin universe, where my new book Between Conversations takes place. There were also nights I went to sleep with my headphones on listening to KMFDM or some other Mortal Kombat-soundtrack band, which started all kinds of crazy, imaginative dreams that just aided in that creative process.
However, the actual writing and creating of those envisioned worlds as an actual, physical thing didn’t lend itself to music as well, so while writing these day I tend to prefer the restful pink noise a paper-pushing business offers. Make no mistake, though: the stories I write almost always were born of a long walk and loud, hard music in my ears.
I’m not saying I don’t listen to music when I’m writing, but I certainly don’t seem to do it as much as a lot of my contemporaries. I have repeatedly stated that I am very limited and often selective about my writing times. I can’t write at home in the evening or on weekends. I have kids who demand my time, and a wife I want to give what I can of myself. I like writing at work, at my desk, surrounded by the low thrum of people going about their business. When lunch time rolls around, and everyone is just off in their own worlds, that’s where my writing really seems to shine.
So in those moments my forty five minutes(ish. I still need time to eat, right?) are better suited to being lost in my own mind, letting the story sort itself out and allowing myself to focus on the subtle art of not making something that sucks. It’s a delicate balance and I’m not often successful. For every good thing your favorite author has written, there’s a crumpled discard pile of creative missteps and deleted (or saved, if they’re particularly masochistic) grammatical garbage that should never see the light of day.
However, when it’s done and the editing process begins, that’s when music shows up. That’s when creativity becomes a different form of organized chaos, and I love it. Like those young days where it played in the background of my conscience, once I start swinging the axe and cutting (or adding, knowing me) there will always be music.
The first time I sat and edited, it was painful (duh) and seemed to absorb my will to live. I hear that’s common. I edited my Ryuujin-world science-fantasy duology Catching Hell Journey & Destination on and off for five years. In all that time I never clued in to the fact that the editing process is, creatively, a very different one from actually writing.
And then my first released novel Death Dresses Poorly happened, and that’s where it clicked. It’s a far more frantic book. It’s shorter and punchier and modern. After the whirlwind process to write it I set on editing right away and in the brief time I threw on some Tricky, Portishead and Massive attack, the monsters of 90s trip-hop, and there was an energy in the process all of the sudden. The pounding rhythms lent themselves to reviewing and focusing the mind just like the ultra heavy beats and screaming guitars of that same era had helped birth the words on those walks.
It wasn’t a fluke either. I’ve had music on for each of my editing sessions since then, and every time I’ve been happy with the results. There is a strange, subconscious switch that gets flicked when the music pounds and the misspelled words and horrifying paragraph construction jump off the page and get sliced apart effortlessly. Well, I still have my editor, but those first passes are always mine and I do my damndest to make sure they don’t have as much to do when the time comes.
The music is always there, in the background somewhere. It’s spinning and playing and working its way into my words. It’s not there when my fingers strike the keyboard, but it’s there at all points before and after. And along the way, a writing lesson appeared: every step in the journey is different and they can’t all be handled the same. What works for one step may ruin another (or make that step last five years) and we need to be flexible. Art gives rise to art, in all its forms. If pictures and sculptures are how we decorate space, then books and music are how we decorate time. I suppose it’s only natural that they go together so well.
