Being in the Room to Witness Creativity

By

Scott D. Parker

I love to know how things are made. It’s one of the main reasons why I buy the DVDs of my favorite movies—other than, you know, ownership—because there are behind-the-scenes featurettes and interviews with the creators. 

I think this started back in the Star Wars days of the 1970s when I would read all about how George Lucas and company created the movie that changed the trajectory of so many lives. I loved how they raided model shops to create the Death Star and used miniatures, models, and matte paintings to create the galaxy far, far away. How many of us picked up our own cameras to make our own movies? I see a lot of hands out there.

Books

The written word is an odd thing. It’s all in the writer’s head. You can read excerpts and deleted drafts if you want, but it’s all rather frustrating not to be able to have, say, a video with writers giving you a running commentary of their thought process. Granted, I do talk to myself sometimes. Hey, I know I’m not alone. Another show of hands. Hmm, fewer. 

Music

Music, on the other hand, is chock full of behind-the-scenes content. It can range from filmed snippets that showed up on VHS tapes back in the day to feature-length examples like the Beatles film Peter Jackson put out a few years ago. I love seeing how all the music and songs we know by heart and sing at the top of our lungs in the shower came to be 

And I’ve got a new one for you.

The Greatest Night in Pop: A We Are the World Documentary

I first heard about this on The Ralph Report, a daily podcast hosted by Ralph Garman. Curious, I brought it up to my wife on Thursday night and she was game.

The title of the documentary tells you everything you need to know. Director Bao Nguyen follows Lionel Richie, Michael Jackson, and Quincey Jones as they took a suggestion from Harry Belefonte to write an American answer to the Band Aid’s “Do They Know It’s Christmas.” That song was released in early December 1984 and about seven weeks later, the new song was complete.

But not before a long, long night of recording.

You know the tune. You can probably sing it right now without a single note as a cue. I’m right there with you. But did you know Stevie Wonder suggested an additional element? Or how Richie and Jackson came up with the melody and lyrics? How about all those individual solo parts that became so famous? Who would sing what? For how many words? Or the doubt some of the singers had for their certain sections. Or the role Stevie Wonder played in the Bob Dylan section. Or the fact that Bob Geldof, the man behind Band Aid and later in 1985, Live Aid, was in the room before the recording began to set the stage for the evening.

It is fascinating. 

There is a mix of current interviews with Richie, Bruce Springsteen, Dionne Warwick, Huey Lewis, and others where they reflect on the experience. For those artists no longer with us, Nguyen drops in some older interviews to fill in the blanks.

There was a moment—specifically the segment with Steve Perry and Daryl Hall—when I heard those familiar voices and heard those sung lines and tears welled up in my eyes. I looked over to my wife who was also wiping away tears. We both laughed yet we couldn’t quite put our finger on why we both became emotional. Perhaps it was the specialness of the once-in-a-lifetime event. Perhaps it was the fact that the recording is now 39 years in the past and we are all 39 years older and yet we can’t wrap our heads around that fact.

I don’t know, but I highly recommend this documentary on Netflix if not for the time-machine quality of it, but to witness creativity in action.

A Rom-Com That’s Dialed Up to Eleven: Charm City Rocks by Matthew Norman

by

Scott D. Parker

Note: I know this is not a mystery novel, but I haven't been this excited about a book in a long time so I thought I'd share here. 

How long has it been since you read a book in four days? For me, it’s been forever. But I’ve also not read a book quite like Charm City Rocks by Matthew Norman.

I follow the Writer Unboxed website and a recent Q&A landed this book on my radar. Being a huge fan of KISS, I instantly assumed the reference was a shout out to KISS’s “Detroit Rock City.” Whether or not that was how the author came up with the title of his novel, I don’t know, but that’s what got me in the door.

Oh, and the cool premise.

A single dad, Billy, is watching a rock and roll documentary with his high school senior son, Caleb, when the fictional band Burnt Flowers shows up. Billy, a piano teacher in Baltimore, confesses that he had a huge crush on the drummer, Margot Hammer, back in the day. With Caleb about to go off to college and with his mom married, he worries about his dad will be lonely when he moves away. One of those schools is Stanford, all the way across the country. When Caleb accidentally eats some “special” gummies, he sends an email to Margot who is a rock and roll recluse after a spectacular and public meltdown on stage two decades ago. Caleb invites Margot to come to Charm City Rocks, the record store in Baltimore over which his dad lives. He’s convinced that if the former rock star would just meet his dad, they’d hit it off.

But Caleb knows that Margot won’t just come down to Baltimore so he poses as if he’s a teenaged girl in an all-girl rock band. Margot’s publicist thinks it a great idea to get Margot’s name back out in the world and urges her to go. Reluctantly, she agrees, and then the truth hits the fan.

The Breezy Writing Style

I put the book on hold via the Libby app. The blog post made me curious, but I’d never read anything by Norman—heck, I’d never heard of him—so I thought I’d give the book a chance. I read chapter one at lunch and laughed out loud. Actually laughed out loud. Then I read chapter two before I had to get back to work. At the next day’s lunch I experienced a pull and a choice: I could write more words of my own book or read more chapters of Norman’s book. After I quickly finished my own daily writing, I read more about Billy and Margot, right up until the end of lunch. Holy cow, I was hooked.

The prose just flows, easily. I’m a writer myself so I understand the process: that what we read as a final product is not necessarily the same when the writer is behind a keyboard. But the results are so fluid, witty, and whimsical.

The characters jump off the page, fully formed, and easily understandable and relatable. In addition to Billy, Caleb, and Margot, we meet Robyn, Caleb’s mom, and her husband, Aaron, who has great hair. We get to know Lawson Daniel’s, Margot’s ex-husband, a supremely handsome British actor who is more famous than her. There’s Poppy, their daughter, as well as all the folks on the city block where Charm City Rocks is located. They all come alive in Norman’s experienced writing style and I happily and easily went along for the ride.

A Rom-Com That Feels Natural

I’ll admit: when Christmas season rolls around, the Hallmark Channel is often on the TV. I know they’re a formula, but I just love them. Still, sometimes, the formula is thin and I start doing something else. I mean, how many times can you have the big-city lady return to the small town and re-discover everything she’s missed?

There are elements of that in Norman’s book, but he remixes the pieces in such a way that it all feels fresh. The meet-cute section is incredibly charming and delightful and I was grinning from ear to ear during that section.

But the inevitable obstacles get in the way and cause havoc. What I particularly enjoyed was the comedy part of rom-com. As I already mentioned, I laughed in chapter one. I think I laughed out loud more reading this book than, in well, a long time. Here’s a line from Beth, a bartender, on what the best Neil Diamond song is.

“What are you talking about, you idiot? It’s ‘Sweet Caroline’ all the way. My sister threw her bra at Neil once while he was singing it at the Verizon Center down in D.C. Almost got us kicked out. Apparently, you’re not supposed to do that. Which is bullshit. I mean, how could you not toss your underwear at that man?”

Or how about this one

“I’d love a cup of tea, though,” says Lawson.
“Like, tea tea?” Robyn asks.
“Well, we Brits only say it once, but I suppose you can call it what you like.”

And I’m also fine when characters in a book react almost as if they’re watching the movie that they’re in. For example, here’s a quote from when Billy is talking to Margot:

“I know, and again, I’m sorry. I’ll buy you and Mr. Camera Guy a beer, too, to make up for it. What do you say? I just feel like if you drive off without me asking, I’ll regret it.”
“Damn,” whispers Todd. “That’s a decent line.”

Everything Gets Dialed Up to Eleven

Things just keep getting in the way for all the characters in this novel, and some of them are really fun and outrageous. The twists I thought unpredictable and happily went along for the ride.

But, again, it’s organic in its development. So, too, is the romance element. Norman switches POVs constantly so you get a sense of what everyone is thinking and why they’re doing what they’re doing. But the small moments really shine: the way a person’s kiss tastes, the warmth of a hand on an arm, the smell of pretzels and the memories they conjure. Norman’s observations on human nature are spot on. I imagine many guys who read this book will see themselves in Billy and wonder if they’d do the same thing. Or feel like he does at various stages of this story. And I also really liked the kind of dad he was to Caleb.

When You Discover Someone New

Like so many rom-coms, Charm City Rocks is a story of how two people meet and start to have feelings for each other and how those actions reverberate throughout their community. An excited newness permeates the air and you just want to be around them all the time.

There’s a similar vibe when you discover a new-to-you author. Matthew Norman is now on my radar thanks to this delightful novel. I’m looking forward to reading more by him, but Charm City Rocks will always be special, that first book.

I’ve already told so many folks about it. Now I’m telling you. Add Charm City Rocks to your summer reading list. Your smile will thank you.

When Veterans Surprise You

by
Scott D. Parker

I was happily surprised yesterday, but I wasn’t expecting it.

The veteran “rock band with horns,” Chicago, released their 38th album yesterday, Born for This Moment. For a band celebrating their 55th year, that’s darn impressive. Chicago is one of my two favorite bands and I eagerly waited to spin that new album yesterday. In fact, with it being a work day, I woke at 5:30am just so I could listen to the album before the workday began. Later that day, my son ventured out and purchased the CD.

Being a writer, I documented my experience in real time. It’s a text file in which I wrote down my thoughts and feelings as the album played. Without the liner notes, the only thing I had to go on was the music itself. Isn’t that basically the way to experience a first listen?

Anyway, I knew that this new album would likely be the band’s last. It’s been eight years since Chicago released an album of new, non-Christmas material—although I wholeheartedly contend that the 2019 Chicago Christmas album was mostly original as well, seeing as it featured seven original songs that merely used the vocabulary of Christmas.

Prior to yesterday, Chicago had released two singles, “If This is Goodbye” and “Firecracker.” The former is a modern-sounding song with lots of vocal overdubs while the latter certainly has that Chicago vibe to it. Other cuts on the album also contained that certain signature Chicago sound. Hey, no surprise there, right? There’s a reason they’ve been successful for more than half a century. And some of these sounds are so good.

But then this band anchored by three original members in their seventies throws the listener more than one curve ball. Some of the songs feature programmed drums and rhythms that we’re used to hearing on songs by artists young enough to be their grand or great-grandchildren. In the song “You’ve Got to Believe,” the chorus is something you could easily hear Justin Timberlake sing. Seriously. Founding singer Robert Lamm even tries a few different things with his voice, voicing some of his songs with a rougher style.

It’s not just newer, modern instrumental and beats that stand out. For the first time, there’s a violin solo on one of the slower tunes. And for the first time since 1978, there’s an extended flute section, complete with a solo.

As I wrote a few weeks back, I’m a big fan of legacy artists acknowledging their age and life experiences. Up until now, that’s been a rarity for a Chicago album. No longer. We finally get them looking backward and celebrating their lives and careers, but we also get some forward-thinking music. If this is indeed the last Chicago album, then this collection of songs left me with some bittersweet tears as well as a feeling of surprise.

Circling back to writers, it got me to wondering how often veteran writers deliver a book or a story that surprises us readers. Stephen King does it pretty regularly, writing pretty much whatever he wants but with a willingness to try something new.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with finding a formula and sticking to it. Heck, Chicago did that for decades with their ballads. I’m not even sure if I, too, wouldn’t just stick to a formula and cash those checks.

So bravo to those artists and writers who try something new. But I’m still wondering about writers who try something new. Can y’all help with that? The first book that comes to mind is Dennis Lehane’s Shutter Island. I know there are more.

Thoughts and Inspiration from Dave Grohl’s The Storyteller

by

Scott D. Parker

The urge came out of nowhere. Somehow, last year, I had the overwhelming desire to buy the new Foo Fighters album, Medicine at Midnight. That was odd considering I’d never purchased any of their albums up to that time. Heck, I knew only a handful of their songs and one main video, but buy the record I did and it became my favorite album of the year.

So when Dave Grohl, the founder and front man of the band, published his memoirs, The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music, in the fall of 2021, I was primed and ready for it.

But I wasn’t ready for what it did to me.

A Parallel Life

With my newfound interest in all things Foo and Grohl, I learned Dave was only five weeks younger than I was. Back in 1991, when Nirvana released their seminal album “Nevermind” and set a dividing line in the history of rock music—there was a Before Nevermind and an After Nevermind—I probably knew that the trio were my age, but it didn’t register. Bands who made records I could buy were always older than me, right? Turns out, Dave was the youngest. He was like the younger brother of one of the two other guys in the band, brought along on account of his ferocious drumming style. I think we all know that Dave was at the right place at the right time, just before Nirvana blew away the general public with their sound.

But Dave was already a veteran of that scene. He had been intoxicated with the punk rock sound of Washington DC even though he was a suburban kid from Virginia. Even without a proper drum kit (he used pillows), the music flowed through him and he practiced and practiced the drums and well as strumming and picking out songs on his guitar.

Good fortune, luck, whatever you want to call it arrived one day when Dave, the seventeen-year-old struggling high school student, was given the chance to audition for the punk rock band Scream. He nailed the audition and, when invited to join the band, lead singer Peter Stahl finally thought to ask the young man his age. Naturally, Dave lied. “Twenty-one.” Peter and the other members of Virginia-based Scream accepted Dave’s word and Scream had a new drummer.

But Dave had one crucial thing to do, and even as I listened to Dave recount the story via the audiobook, fully knowing how it would turn out, it was a tense moment. Dave had to talk with his mother, a public school teacher, and convince her to let him drop out of school and tour with the band. Her words were surprising: “You’d better be good.”

As a listener to Dave’s journey, I found myself joining in his long days of traveling the country in a van, stretching out pennies per day on food, sleeping like sardines in said van, only to explode for an hour a day on stage. As a parent myself, however, I found Virginia Grohl’s faith in her son heart-warming yet also inspirational. The main job of a parent is to raise our children to be good, functioning, adults capable of holding down a job and making it on their own. She must have recognized that Dave was not going to be a typical nine-to-five kind of person and let him go. Even though my son is now twenty, I think back to when he was seventeen and ask myself if I could have let him go.

Turning it back on myself, however, I thought back to when I was seventeen. I was a junior in high school, just like Dave was. Could I have left the comfort of my suburban Houston home to tour with a rock band? Would my parents have let me? The answer to both is no.

That Guy From Nirvana

The four-year stretch when Dave toured America and Europe with Scream on less than a shoe-string budget helped forge his character into what he would become. His frugality he learned from his single mother, who raised Dave and his sister via her public school job and other jobs she took to make ends meet. He learned to make do with less and be happy about it. I found it telling that when he received his first check after joining Nirvana—an astounding-for-him $400—he blew it on a Nintendo and other assorted things he didn’t really need. Soon, he was back to scraping by, barely choking down the three-for-a-dollar corn dogs from a gas station. Still, he learned his lesson.

It’s common knowledge that Dave auditioned for Nirvana at a time when Scream was a slowly sinking ship. He joined the band with Kurt Cobain and Krist Novoselic and set to work on Nirvana’s sophomore album, Nevermind. It was great to hear Dave’s thoughts and memories about Kurt, especially how unprepared the trio was for the instant international fame they garnered with that fall 1991 album and, most importantly, the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” music video. Soon, the very people who poked fun of Dave in high school were now attending Nirvana shows. The alternative, punk rock mentality in which Dave and Kurt and Krist thrived was being co-opted by the mainstream. Dave struggled with it, but he managed to get through the deluge while Kurt did not.

I made the choice to listen to this book because Dave narrates his own story, and it is exactly the way to consume this book. You get Dave’s snide tonal shifts depending on if he’s talking about a funny memory, but you can also hear his somber voice as he talks about how Kurt’s death affected him. In interviews about this book, Dave mentioned he wrote the passages about Kurt last. I wonder if he recorded them last as well.

The Indie Spirit of Foo Fighters

In the immediate aftermath of Kurt’s death, Dave left music. He didn’t even listen to the radio. The very thing that pumped in his veins, that compelled him to become a high-school dropout was now the same thing he couldn’t endure. He wanted to distance himself from Nirvana, from Kurt, and, as he came to realize, from himself. After nearly picking up a hitchhiker in Ireland—the young man was wearing a Kurt Cobain t-shirt, the sight of which caused Dave to duck his head and pass by—Dave knew he must return to music.

As an indie author, I enjoy performing all aspects of writing and publishing myself. True, some tasks are more mundane than others, but that is the price I’m willing to pay. I knew about Foo Fighters back in 1995 but never bought the debut record. What I truly never understood, however, was that, save for a single guitar part in one song, Dave wrote and performed every bit of that twelve-song debut. And he did it all in six days in the studio. That astounded me, but what I really latched onto was how that creativity in the wake of Kurt Cobain’s suicide was Dave’s road out of his depression.

You see, I’ve been struggling with my own career as a writer, wondering if it is all worth it or if I should just hang it up. Why bother, I’d tell myself. No one cares if I write or don’t. In fact, those thoughts have so permeated my thinking that I actually have stopped. It’s been a month since I last wrote new words on anything other than blog posts.

But I have spent countless words on examining myself, and in this time of re-examining what kind of fiction writing career I want, I listened to Dave’s book. I hear him talk about his own struggles, his own doubts and fears, how he, even to this day, still struggles and wonders if he’s good enough.

Dave is a wonderful storyteller, weaving in and out of various tales from the road. All are remarkable and all had me questioning myself and my creative life choices. Late in the book, he described the feeling of being invited to perform—solo—at the Oscars. And it was the Beatles’ “Blackbird.” So, no pressure, right? He was scared, so scared that he nearly declined. But he and his daughter, Violet, had recently performed the song at her school talent show and she encouraged him to do the song. You see, she was scared to perform but she overcame her fears and knocked it out of the park. The child served as inspiration for the father.

In concluding this story, Dave wrote the following:

"Courage is the defining factor in the life of any artist. The courage to bare your innermost feelings, to reveal your true voice, or to stand in front of an audience and lay it all out there for the world to see. The emotional vulnerability that is often necessary to summon a great song can also work against you when you’re sharing your song for the world to hear. This is the paralyzing conflict of any sensitive artist, a feeling I’ve experienced with every lyric I’ve sung to someone other than myself. Will they like it? Am I good enough? It is the courage to be yourself that bridges those opposing emotions, and when it does, magic can happen."

Dave’s book arrived at the perfect time in my life and the inspirational journey he went on and continues to undertake hit me in the exact place I needed it: my creative spirit. It needed a jolt to get me out of the doldrums. My spirit needed to come around and be reminded that every single creative person—whether an indie writer, a rock star, or anyone in between—has moments of doubt. But if we just keep going and keep making our art, magic can happen.

It is remarkable to get an inside look at an established and famous rock star who is my age. The bass player, Nate Mendel, is four days older than me so I should have been a Foo Fighters fans from the jump. But I wasn’t. Instead, it took me twenty-seven years to come around.

Now, I’m there and not only am I on YouTube watching tons of videos but I’m rummaging through my wife’s CD collection and pulling every Foo Fighters album she has. The music is fantastic, but Dave Grohl’s message is even better.

Carving Up Your Hours and Meat Loaf’s Example for Creatives

by
Scott D. Parker

You don’t find the time to write. You make time to write.

That’s an adage I’ve held onto for years. I firmly believe that if you truly want to write, you will make the time to write. Thus, the excuse of “I would love to write but I just don’t have the time” flies out the window.

But sometimes you have to carve up your time to find those pockets in which you can write. I did a little exercise this week that you might find instructive if you are wanting to find all those extra minutes in your week to get your fingers on the keyboard and your brain into its imagination.

I started a new day job this month and this is the end of week three. Naturally, I now have a new schedule, one that involves three days in the office and two at home. It felt like I had less time to write, so I broke down my days.

Every weekday, I wake at 5am. Yes, I am a proud member of the 5am Writing Club. Have been a morning writing for going on nine years now, and dedicated 5am-er for the past three or four. I find it liberating to have the house to myself, only a single light on over the kitchen table, and just a cup of coffee (two, actually) beside me as I write. Zero internet, zero TV, zero anything other than a psalm a day until the words are out of my head.

I work in the office Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. That means I have a hard stop at 6am so I can get ready for work, jump in the car with the daily smoothie, and drive to work, usually listening to an audiobook (most recently finished Carol Burnett’s memoir).

So, accounting for the waking, exercising, Bible-reading time, I’m left with approximately 45 mins in the morning to write, give or take. Doing the math, 45 x 3 = 135 mins. Since I work from home on Mondays and Fridays, I allow myself an extra 30 minutes. 75 x 2 = 150 mins. That’s 285 mins, or 4.75 hours per week in the mornings to write. Not bad at all.

Side note: I don’t write during Family Time at night.

Then there are the lunch hours at the day job. Accounting for regular meetings going long and, you know, eating, I estimate I have 45 minutes I can spend writing on my Chromebook. That’s another 135 minutes, which bring us up to about 7 hours per week that I have to myself and I can write.

I have more time on Saturdays. I tend to wake at 7am, get the dogs, head out to Shipley’s for do-nuts, come home, cook and eat breakfast. Generally, I get to writing around 8am and the family leaves me alone. On Saturdays in which there are few things to do, I can get two hours easy. Then, it’s Family Time (or Chore Time) so the writing is off the table. Now I’m up to 9 hours, more or less.

Sundays are a tad different. I still wake at 7, but I have a hard stop around 9:30 or so to get ready for church. So let’s call it a good 90 minutes. Now I’m up to 10.5 hours of writing time per week.

All it took was for me to analyze my schedule and see what time I have available. There’s a lot I can do in 10.5 hours. I knocked out NaNoWriMo’s 1,667-word threshold in any of those given time frames, but if it’s slow going, I can get 800 words in any one of those writing sessions (although my daily goal is 1,000).

Here’s where the math is magical. If I can average a 1,000 words an hour, that means I can write approximately 10,000 new words of fiction per week. With a day job. With Family and Chore Time factored in.

And all I basically ever do is wake up earlier than my family and write. Makes me really happy, productive, and helps start the day on a good note.

Now, how does your week break down?

Meat Loaf’s Example and His Challenge

The news broke yesterday morning that Meat Loaf passed away. I have an unabashed love for his soaring, Broadway-like anthems. In particular, there is a late-career gem I wrote about back in 2016 that was the first song I went to upon hearing the news. Then I listened it again before playing all the songs I have on my Mac.

In the various comments from folks yesterday, more than one commented on Meat Loaf’s improbably resurgence in the early 1990s. In an era of grunge and rap and early hip-hop, here was Meat Loaf singing about the things he would and would not do for love. The song was over the top, the video was even more over the top, but people ate it up. I know I did. There he was, wearing makeup to give him the appearance of a beast, starring in a mini-movie. Were it anyone else, they would have been laughed at.

But not Meat Loaf. He knew who he was, what his talents were, what kind of music he liked and performed well, and just did all that. He was himself no matter what. Sure, he had some down times, but he kept to his talents. When it worked, it soared. When it didn’t, he kept going.

From the last part of the tweet that announced his death came this challenge: “From his heart to your souls…don’t ever stop rocking!”

That’s his challenge to every creative: Don’t ever stop [making your art].

YouTube and Old Music: Where Memories and People Meet

by
Scott D. Parker

Do you ever get lost reading YouTube comments? No, not those. I don’t read those either. I’m talking about the other ones. The good ones. [And yeah, there is a book-related comment at the end.]

There is a fantastic YouTube channel if you enjoy old music. I’m talking stuff from the 1940s-1960s. It is curated by Jake Westbrook (that’s the name of the channel as well) and he collects songs for different moods. Last fall, I discovered him and listened not only to the “Vintage Autumn Music” but thoroughly enjoyed his Halloween playlists. One of the best, interestingly, was his Thanksgiving playlists. He’s got ones for Route 66, summer, and many others.

What I particularly enjoy is reading the comments. If you need a dose of goodness, check these out. More often than not, the commenters praise Jake for the curation, but more importantly, they praise the music. Some are from younger people who never lived when this music was on the radio or TV. They marvel at how good the music remains and lamenting modern music.

A particularly nice sub-set of these comments are from folks who have lost parents or grandparents or other family members. The commenter usually relates a memory this music evokes. One really got to me. It was of a grandchild who played these vintage songs as the grandparent was bedridden. The music calmed the older person, letting them get lost in their memories as they passed from this life into the next.

Cut to more modern music. I’m a huge fan of Frontiers Music. This is a great record label that releases new music by new artist who still like melodic rock as well as older artists who no longer have a home in the big music companies. Think Enuff Z’Nuff or LA Guns. Their hashtag is their motto: #RockAintDead.

Anyway, yesterday, the weekly email featured videos of new releases and one of them was for The Alan Parsons Project’s (with a full symphony) song “Don’t Answer Me.” I LOVED that song as a teenager. It was prompted me to buy the album.

Yet, I hadn’t heard it in a long, long time. Naturally, I clicked on the link and heard a newer rendition with the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra. Oh my was it gorgeous. But that prompted me to return to the original and it’s fantastic pulp-style video.

But it was in the comments associated with the original 1983 version that I again got lost in. Unlike Jake Westbrook’s playlists, I was among the generation who experienced this song when it was new. Now, so many of the comments relate to “I’m 21 and I just found this song and it’s so good” kind of vibe. Or, as you can imagine, ones in which younger people discovered the song in the mom’s stack of CDs or their dad recently passed away and this is the song that helps the commenter remember a recently deceased parent. I went down an Alan Parsons Project rabbit hole, but I also experienced the memories of all the commenters. It was a wonderful trip.

But then I got to thinking about books. While there is certainly not a YouTube for books, where is a site for comments like this? Where is the site where grandchildren can talk about how they read their grandfather’s favorite book as he lay on his deathbed and the grandchild realized how good an old book was?

That is a site I’d love to visit.

The Fun of Regulated Reading

by
Scott D. Parker

Do you ever regulate your reading?

I was struggling over what term to use so let me just explain. Last year, I did a little experiment. The book of Proverbs has 31 chapters. I decided that for every month that included 31 days, I would read a chapter of Proverbs per day. To keep things interesting, I changed translations every month. Then, at the end, I was able to go back and compare notes and compare verses that I underlined. It was a pretty fun experiment and, except for the transition from July into August, I never had a back to back month.

To January 2021. As I often do, I start to cycle through all of the things that have major anniversaries. Anything with a year ending in one or six are the key ones this year. In the first week, it was the 50th anniversary of Chicago III. That got me to thinking about music and what albums we’re gonna be celebrating major milestone anniversaries. It was my son – – an avid musicologist – – who reminded me I had a book on the shelf about the year 1971 in music. Why not just read it.

The book in question is titled Never a Dull Moment: 1971 The Year Rock Exploded by David Hepworth. It came out in 2016 and I think I might’ve had it since then. Born in 1950, Hepworth came of age about the same time that rock ‘n’ roll did. Those, he was 21 years old during 1971. He has written extensively about music since the 1980s. 

What got me excited about reading this book in 2021 was a table of contents. It is broken out by month. 12 chapters, 12 months, plus an introduction.

As soon as I saw that, I had a brilliant idea: read each chapter at the beginning of each month here in 2021 and go through the year 1971 with Hepworth. I had to read chapter 1 this week, but I'll get to chapter 2  on Monday. and then continue from there. That means Led Zepplin IV is in my future. So is Sticky Finger, Nursery Crime, Hunky Dory, What's Going On, Bryter Later, and Madman Across the Water. That's just the albums I know about. I can't wait to discover new-to-me albums.

And, if chapter one is any indication, this is going to be a blast. Hepworth writes in an engaging style, but primarily he writes only from the limited perspective of that month. He tells you what Bruce Springsteen was doing, the status of the band Slade, and how Yes was reimagining how music was recorded. He even drops a cliffhanger of an ending as the chapter closed about a woman who invented the album business.

But what makes these chapters special is that Hepworth includes a short playlist of songs that were popular in that month. I already made a January 1971 playlist and dang if I haven't discovered a new-to-me band: Badfinger.

Anyway, I don't know if you read books in this regulated manner or not, but I do, and I look forward to learning about 1971 fifty years later.

Are there other books that could be read in a regulated way?

Cherishing a New Bruce Springsteen Song

 A couple things occurred to me on Thursday when I heard the new Bruce Springsteen song, "Letter to You," from his forthcoming album of the same name.

The most obvious one was that there was a brand-new Bruce Springsteen song! Just a day after the rumor started, the official press release drops as does the first single. It is always a great day when there's a new Springsteen tune, especially in 2020 (a damn good year for music). It struck me, however, that this one was slightly different. 

Not only was it a record with the E Street Band, but it was by an artist who had already reached the age of seventy. The Boss is seventy? Seriously? And then the video shows the entire band recording the songs for the album. It was like seeing old friends gathered again, smiling, laughing, working, creating, all in its black-and-white glory. 

The song's lyrics are mature and nuanced, deep with emotion. Hearing them, reading them as they played across the screen, I'll admit to a bit of emotion. Not nearly as much as last year's "Hello Sunshine" debut, but it was there. Why? Well, the meaning of the lyrics, of course, but also the echo of a question I hated to admit at the time: how many more days will we have that feature a new Springsteen song? 

He's seventy and the rest of the band ain't getting any younger. Unless Springsteen releases an album and unequivocably announces it is the last one, chances are we'll never know which day was the last to hear a brand-new Springsteen song. We'll be able to look back and note it, but not on that actual day.

I swept those thoughts away from the front of mind, but confess to thinking them and just relished the song.

Know what else made it special? The person I was with when I heard it.

I wake early every morning to work on my fiction writing, so I had already been alerted that the new song dropped. I had read the press release, seen the album cover, and read the tracklisting (which means little ahead of hearing the actual album). I was ready to hear the song. Last year, with "Hello Sunshine," I had listened to it about five times before my son got out of bed.

But on Thursday, I waited. My son, a college freshman, likes a few Springsteen albums and I know he'd want to hear the song before he drove to school. Well, *I* wanted him to hear it before school, so I made sure he did. Perhaps, on an unconscious level, the thoughts about The Boss not getting any younger played a role. I can't say, but I wanted to share the experience.

And it was all the more special.

It also made me think of all the other musicians, authors, and actors who I've grown up with. Some have already passed on but most of my favorites are still with us. Made me cherish them and their work all the more.

How Do You Find New Books?

by

Scott D. Parker

Earlier this week, a friend of mine at church posted an article about the mental benefits of listening to new music. In his post, he asked us how we discover new music.

I answered by saying nearly all of my nearly two dozens albums in 2020 stemmed from two sources: Frontiers Music (keeping melodic rock alive and kicking) and bands featured on the Texas Music Scene TV show. 

When I stumbled on Frontiers Music in 2019, I ended up downloading a sampler CD and listening. That led directly to purchases. It also led me to subscribe to Frontiers’s newsletter. Every week, I get an email talking about the new releases of that week. I also Liked their page on Facebook. Now, whenever I get the weekly email or I scroll to the Frontiers Music Facebook page, I listen. Heck, this week I discovered a band called Pride of Lions and their kick-ass song “Carry Me Back.” I heard the first few bars of this tune and instantly marked the new album as a prerelease. Only later did I learn one of the lead singer (and lead guitarist) is Jim Peterik, a founder of Survivor and…The Ides of March! Yeah, the guy that sings “Vehicle” is still making music. Oh, and how cool is Peter’s guitar!

The Texas Music Scene is a syndicated TV show that comes on Saturdays at midnight, right after SNL. It used to be a casual show. Now it is appointment television. I take notes on the bands and the songs they perform. Then I go out and buy the albums. I’ve got quite a list and I’m slowly working my way through all the new-to-me music. 

But for books, how does it work? How do I find new books?

Well, J. Kingston Pierce’s The Rap Sheet is top dog for me. Somehow, he finds the time to compile not only awesome lists of new books, but he pens fantastic articles about mystery and crime fiction. His Revue of Reviewers is a highlight as is his lists of awards. Plus, he has a knack for zeroing in on those fun old crime TV shows, complete with links. I often find new-to-me stuff there.

Turning my attention to the local scene, I subscribe to the Murder by the Book email list. All during the quarantine, they have continued their author events, only now, they’re online. They debut on Facebook and then show up on their YouTube page. Interviews with J. Todd Scott and Brad Thor have directly led me to book purchases. 

Here’s the link to their events page.

But, to be brutally honest, other than a few other newsletters, that’s it for me. 

So this post is actually a call to action: how do you find new books? I’d like to know so I can learn about even more books that are being published. 

KISS Unmasked at 40

Forty years ago today, the rock band KISS released Unmasked. Over on my YouTube channel, I uploaded a short video of my memories of this album and a review. But I'm also including it here.

Enjoy.

The Writing Room

If you are lucky enough to have a dedicated space for writing, you have to decide what goes in that space. Sometimes the space dictates that - if you're working in an empty closet, you have room for a small desk, a chair, and maybe a picture or two. If your space has to pull double duty as a guest room, there's going to be a bed (or at least a pullout couch). If you have to share you office space with your spouse, that's a whole different issue. You're better off consulting an Ikea and a marital counselor than this blog.

But sometimes what goes in (and what stays out) is important. When we moved  few years ago, I went from working at a desk that straddled the living room and dining room in a 900 square foot house to having a room with a door that I could fuck off to and spend all day working. The first thing that went in were bookshelves, and books. Almost every room in our house (including the kitchen) has a bookshelf in it, and my office would be no different. I picked my favorites, arranged them autobiographically over too long a period, and moved on to hanging cool art, old posters, and finding the right pull out couch (it does, after all, occasionally have to double as a guest room). I made my office a small wonderland complete with a coffee machine and action figures on the shelves to provide both decor and something to fiddle with when I'm trying to sort something out. There's no TV, because I can't see what purpose it would serve, to plug a third distraction machine into my writing room (my phone and laptop are temptation enough).

The only thing I didn't have, that I wanted, was a stereo of some sort. I love music, and it plays a big role in my writing routine. It's the one thing I can take with me even when I'm writing on the road, or in a hotel. The books, the couch, the ambience - all stay in the office. I got by with my phone and a Bluetooth speaker, or sometimes just playing music through my computer with headphones. My office contains one last thing, which is a cabinet holding assorted music I should have gotten rid of a million years ago. A plastic tub full of cassette tapes, a suitcase full of CDs, even a couple of VHS tapes with performances on them, and, three or four records.

I haven't had access to a record player in so long I don't actually remember the last time I played vinyl, but I had records. Some of them came as extras when I ordered other stuff, some of them were thrift store finds I couldn't pass up - but all of them were unplayable in my house. I started thinking - if my office is my little wonderland with coffee, books, and cool art, shouldn't I have a record player?

This internal debate went on for years. Crosley makes cheap record players in cases - one of which matches the color scheme in my office perfectly. It's small and unassuming and wouldn't take up much space. But then, I would think about how it only had the built in speakers, and wouldn't I want better sound quality out of it? I didn't have room for something much larger...

Without filling you in on four years of justifying the purchase and then not buying the damn thing - I eventually got a record player.

Me, picking out the right record for a bank robbery

I set it up in the kitchen.

What stays out of the office is as important as what goes in. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that a record player was too participatory for a writing room. When I put on music to write, I make long playlists with songs I already know well enough that I don't perk up trying to understand the lyrics. I don't play DJ, going through my list of songs, picking the exact right one, and then pausing again in a few minutes to do it again - who could write like that?

Every interruption costs at least twice the amount of time. You have to stop and deal with the interruption, and then find your place in the writing, get your head back in the game, and try to hit flow again. So each time I had to flip a record, each time I had to put one away, sliding it into it's sleeve and then the jacket, pick a new one, etc. Look - don't get me wrong, all of this is what makes listening to records a different experience than just plugging your phone into a speaker and hitting "shuffle."  The fact that you have to pay attention is a big draw for someone like me who loves music. But it's not for writing.

Having the record player in the office would have been more about set design than functionality. It would have taken time I already waste on other crap, and multiplied it by how long it takes to decide which record best fits the mood of the scene I'm writing, since my writing playlist can't be easily pressed on vinyl.

So my wonderland is missing one thing - but that's what makes it a writing wonderland. My shitty Bluetooth speaker isn't going to retire any time soon.

Music and murder.

If you read my Friday spot here with anything resembling regularity, you know I love music. I've done roundups of songs with crime fiction stories in them, I've talked about how I listen to music while I write, perfecting playlists for larger projects, and using songs to inspire shorter ones. I've even talked about how being involved in the local music scene influenced my writing.

So, it's obvious that when I got asked to do a story for Just To Watch Them Die: Crime Fiction Inspired By The Songs of Johnny Cash I was thrilled. I love Johnny, and I got the killer combo because my song, Thirteen, was actually written by Glen Danzig. I could write about, around, and with music all day. If something I'm writing isn't directly inspired by music, the tone, the pace, and the feel of the whole thing is often inspired by a playlist - even if by accident.

Surprisingly, I'm not the kind of person who has a playlist for everything. I have a "party" playlist that I put on for gatherings, where I dumped a bunch of music that hits different genres and tastes without any blatant obscenity so I wouldn't have to just hit "shuffle" and then blush when "Fuck The Pain Away" comes on in front of the one mom-friend I have from the kid's school. I have a couple playlists of specific artists' music because they've done different projects and I want it all together. I have one I made because I downloaded a bunch of songs from different albums that act as the soundtrack to a movie I like.

But I have two different playlists for my work in progress. I have stand alone songs I bought just because they tickled the story-writing part of my brain. I listen with intent.

I got invited to do Murder-A-Go-Gos to benefit Planned Parenthood by our alum Holly West and was so excited. A chance to do another music anthology story, a chance to honor a killer female band? Hell yes. The song I chose (below) is "The Way You Dance" which may not sound criminal or threatening, but have you ever wondered why she's spending so much time watching someone dance, and analyzing it? Weird.

The Different Realities of Memory

By Claire Booth

I heard a song on the radio earlier this week, and I was immediately transported to a boat in the middle of an almost frozen lake, with snow on the rocky shore and the wet tang of an approaching storm in the air. It was a wonderful memory. But it never existed.

The song was from a OneRepublic album that I listened to repeatedly when I was writing the first part of The Branson Beauty. My sheriff has to coordinate the rescue of passengers from a crashed showboat in the middle of an Ozark lake as a winter storm blows in.

Table Rock Lake, Branson, Missouri. Credit: Table Rock Condos at The Majestic

I hadn’t heard any of the songs in years. But as I listened to "Made For You" play on the car radio, everything came back. Not the actual memory of me sitting at a keyboard and staring at a computer screen. What I recalled was the cold and the water and the feeling of expectancy that my character had as he boarded the showboat in the biting wind. That’s my "real" memory, and it made me smile for the rest of the day.

What songs do you have that are linked to a specific memory – whether it’s from the real world or the world of a book?  

 

Emotional Truth

I go on weird show binging streaks that fall outside the scope of what everyone else around here watches. During the puppy training phase of sleeping on the couch every night I let CSI run because it's a show I still essentially enjoy that I can sleep to. It doesn't get too loud or too bright and it worked for me to nap between puppy potty episodes with that show on.

Recently, I started a new show for my new stage of intermittent insomnia. Empire. I'd heard about Empire, and what's not to love about Terrence Howard, who was deliciously evil in Wayward Pines, and brings the bad and the nasty to his performance as Lucious Lyon? Or Taraji P. Henson, who was the moral compass of Person of Interest, and is the somewhat immoral instigator in Empire?

I was just about to delve into a round of manuscript edits, and I had some notes to work off of, and I was trying to work out a solution to one of the key points. I found myself halfway through the manuscript, and I felt like something hadn't quite clicked into place.

Then I had Empire on, and between all the soap hip-hop-era that drives the drama in that show there are these creative moments, when they get talking about the music, and there was an admonition to "put your truth" in the music.



 That's when I started to realize what wasn't quite coming into focus in the manuscript. I was holding back on the emotional side of things. I'll be honest; I think that's much harder to deal with when you're writing a female protagonist. Oh, but women are more emotional than men? It should be easier?

No, it isn't. When we read about a male character who is confronted by how he feels about a situation and processes it, it's seen as growth. He's really evolving, isn't he? Being affected by emotions he can't process, or processing them in a way that drives the plot grabs people, because there's this sudden hope that he'll heal or come to terms with whatever.

When women get emotional it doesn't seem all that special, because they're viewed as being more emotional. And when women get emotional it's easy for that to slip into seeming whiny or, in some cases, bitchy.  I certainly know that when my sleep level is low or I'm sick or I'm just in a mood I can be unpleasant. My husband would never come on here and tell you that, but I know he knows its true. He just happens to be very forgiving.

He will tell you that a lot of the music in Empire is not the type of music I listen to. Yet I've been drawn right into this hip-hop/rap/pop world.




I set myself a specific challenge with the last manuscript; I wrote it from one POV only, instead of my usual multiple protagonist approach.

And that one POV character is a woman.

I'd been holding back on the emotions, and it wasn't entirely unreasonable. The thing is, there are some reasons why this character keeps her feelings to herself and tries not to dwell on them. She's been pretty shut off as a way of surviving for a long time.

However, she'd been on the verge of finally addressing the issue that contributed to that emotional suppression, and her hope for resolution is snatched from her. Although she was practiced at keeping her feelings buried deep, in this situation they would undoubtedly start to surface.


 It was a delicate balance, but I thought about the scenes I was watching with Empire. I know it's just a show, and it's fiction, but they illustrated how getting in touch with your truth and putting that into the music took the music to a deeper level.

Why would I want to write a book that didn't peel all the layers back and really expose what was already brewing beneath the surface?

I went back to page one. The manuscript grew, but I believe then end result is a version that's not only longer than the original in word count, but deeper in character development, and a richer story for it.

Fingers crossed.




PS: I'd venture to say that part of the reason I feel Jamal Lyon's songs are superior to his brother's is because he'd gone through the challenge of coming out and being rejected by his father because of his sexual orientation. His truth ran deeper because he'd been on a harder path.

Playlist: Crime Fiction Through Music (2)

Last fall I did a mini-playlist of songs that tell crime stories (here) and I thought it would be fun to do again. If you like a good crime story there's no reason you won't like it in the form of a movie, a book, or a song, right?

1. Bobby Fuller Four - I Fought The Law

I went with Bobby over The Clash because I'm a cheater and am including The Clash after this. This song's got it all - it's a love story, a prison story, a heist story, and a western (because what modern bank robbers use "a six gun"?). I've never met a person who didn't know this song, which means it's probably no revelation. But hey! I found you the 1966 version with video!

2. The Clash - Guns of Brixton

Bankrobber would have been a better choice. A deeper track, more direct in it's references to crime, I know. I linked it back there so you can watch the video if you're into the idea. But I've had Guns of Brixton on heavy rotation lately. It almost sounds like a protest song, and a lot of the lyrics seem relevant to American issues at the moment - but a closer look at the lyrics make it clear this is about organized crime. Doors are kicked down, people are shot in the street, the threat of death row hangs over head - this song has got it all. 

3. Brody Dalle - Don't Mess With Me

It's a badass punk chick singing about standing up to a bunch of guys with guns pointed at her, do you need more? I've been jamming to this one a lot since the theme of being surrounded by people with guns pointed at you, and feeling like you're going to be okay because someone else is with you is a big one in my work-in-progress. And because Brody Dalle will never not be ice cold cool.

4. Big D and the Kid's Table - My Girlfriend's on Drugs

Look, I know - you're not here for ska. Too bad. The Boston ska scene doesn't get enough credit and a whole hell of a lot of it is about drugs and crime. The title of the song is "My Girlfriend's On Drugs" so I feel like you know what it's about. This is more silly than anything, but that's one thing 90s ska really handled well - serious subject matter presented in a highly danceable, super kinetic, candy coated package. Not everything has to be so fucking heavy all the time. 

5. The Taxpayers - Some Kind of Disaster Relief

I know, two ska songs on one list. You guys are going to send me hatemail, aren't you? The point of these lists is to appreciate crime fiction where you don't expect to find it, and this Taxpayer's song answers that. It's a hell of a lot heavier than the Big D song above, tackling drug addiction, skipping town, kids with guns, and extreme poverty. There's a series of crime novels hiding between the drum beats.