Jen Blood, an author I deeply admire, reviewed Strong Enough (to be shared soon). Her enthusiasm blew me away. She used words like "love" and "want" (as in "I want the play list for the whole damn book.")
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WOW. My play list?
Listen guys, if that was it, I wouldn't be sharing here. I'd let my chihuahua lick my wounds (she does everything else). Jen's response sent me pirouetting through the house. I'll let her share in her words. For now I'll savor the play list reaction because...
I did it. I successfully wove music into a novel.
How the essence of music makes us feel, how it transcends or defines mood is what I aimed to capture. And to do it without knowing how to write or evaluate music added to the pressure.
Except for being a dork, I am no William Miller (Almost Famous), so I was a bit anxious.
Deeanna Danger was a major score for my confidence. I searched for a blogger with music chops. Her review confirmed my research and hard work succeeded musically.
But Jen's statement confirms that as a writer I pulled off something I was told I couldn't do.
During a novel course, I was told to stop including lyric excerpts. Sound advice. It's cheating as well as poking a well-sharpened No.2 pencil into the eye of a fierce beast capable of eating me alive. Poke. Poke. Poke. ROWWRRRR. Boom, I'm consumed.
It wasn't just a legal warning, though. I was told it was naive to try and incorporate popular music. If I gave up this cheesy, newbie desire I'd be a real writer.
I was not discouraged. I kept trying methods until I evaded the music dragon to claim my prize: a novel with a sound track.
Knowing I created a play list Jen Blood wants...
I did it.