Music: The Soundtrack to My Creativity

Music has been a huge part of my creative process. It puts the fire in my creative spirit as cheesy as it sounds. Ever since I was a little girl curled up with Radio Disney in my bedroom, music has given me ideas through daydreams so vivid, my heart twists and turns with my characters. Every story has its own soundtrack. A song doesn’t have to be tangentially related to the story itself. It just has to feel right.

I can’t even begin to describe my musical tastes. It’s a bit all over the place so my process from inspiration to idea tends to be just as random. The music of Queen and Come on Eileen somehow ended up undergirding the emotional intensity I want to convey in the historical horror Grim Lore, especially in its early concept stages. Stranger still because it’s supposed to take place in 19th century America in the wilds of E. Texas. Boxer Shorts was inspired by a beautiful Mexican pop song, Limon y Sal, about accepting the differences of your significant other through fairy tale metaphor. Again, I’m not sure how I got there.

Blood, Ink, and Nightshade

I’m going to pick my brain a moment. Prick it with a pen until it absorbs the ink and makes something beautiful. Blood and black blending into deadly nightshade.

Creativity’s a tricky beast. It haunts you, stalks you, makes you feel. I’ve been lured in by its intoxicating scent for more than a decade now. I can track my life back through all that it inspired me to produce and the tortured things that never got the chance to grow.

Creativity slips away. Or that’s how it feels like sometimes. That’s how it feels now. I call but nothing answers. It doesn’t speak to me how it used to. My mind buzzes with the effort, my fingers go numb with the strain, my eyes drowned by the emptiness in front of me. I’m stalling. I flounder. Nothing works.

But creativity is only lost when you don’t chase after it. It never willingly came to me. It never put in the work to stay. Like a light in the dark, it shines brightly. It warms the room. Gives you comfort. You’re surer in your footing as you walk forward. But it vanishes just as quickly. Forces you to stumble and trip as you claw your way out of the abyss. You have to force yourself forward hoping the light will come to you again.

I hope that this small offering, this bit of effort, will bring it home again.

Photo Credit: elqu @ Wallhaven