"Me and Julio down by the schoolyard..."
AKA: The one in which Ossian abuses parentheses...
When I write, there's generally a particular artist or genre that will put me in the right frame of mind, give me the right tone for the story. I'll pop a CD in, set it on endless repeat, and get down to business. I like the background noise as well as the inspiration. Starting way back with Profiler, it was -much to my horror- country music. But that's what John liked, so I went with it. When I was writing for Roswell, it was Foo Fighters and Santana. Later, Alias was -depending on whether Sark was Stephen or Martin- either Metallica or Nora Jones. (And doesn't that say scary things about the tone of each?) Highlander (by which I mean the Methos stories) got Eric Clapton and Johnny Clegg. (Sorry, I don't own any Queen.) Witchblade was Three Dog Night and Bad Religion. (And no, dear, I haven't forgotten. I'm just really slow. Poor soggy Ian. *g*)
Original writing has always been a little trickier. Working on the Tol-book requires instrumentals. Preferably classical. Usually Dvorak. As for the FIB book, I've just been stumped. Nothing has sounded quite right; nothing inspires. Until this week when I realized...
Spanish radio.
Don't ask. I don't know. It's not like Edward speaks Spanish. (It's not like my Spanish is anything to write home about.) The story is not set in the Southwest or Little Havana or even in some random big city barrio. There is not anything sanely explicable that would logically connect Spanish radio to frakkin' fairies. But there you go. I don't know why, but listening to Spanish radio helps me channel Edward.
My brain is clearly cracked, but it amuses me. Today I am happy.
On other fronts, Eureka was entertaining. The only thing I hate about it is that it and Dead Like Me keep making me forget that I want to watch the House reruns too. On a related note, Mason has a very Doyle-like vibe to him.
And to conclude with some total randomosity... There's an absolutely adorable photo of David Boreanaz giving Emily Deschanel a peck on the temple in next week's TV Guide. I am so looking forward to next season's Bones, the show I had no expectations for whatsoever at this time last year.
When I write, there's generally a particular artist or genre that will put me in the right frame of mind, give me the right tone for the story. I'll pop a CD in, set it on endless repeat, and get down to business. I like the background noise as well as the inspiration. Starting way back with Profiler, it was -much to my horror- country music. But that's what John liked, so I went with it. When I was writing for Roswell, it was Foo Fighters and Santana. Later, Alias was -depending on whether Sark was Stephen or Martin- either Metallica or Nora Jones. (And doesn't that say scary things about the tone of each?) Highlander (by which I mean the Methos stories) got Eric Clapton and Johnny Clegg. (Sorry, I don't own any Queen.) Witchblade was Three Dog Night and Bad Religion. (And no, dear, I haven't forgotten. I'm just really slow. Poor soggy Ian. *g*)
Original writing has always been a little trickier. Working on the Tol-book requires instrumentals. Preferably classical. Usually Dvorak. As for the FIB book, I've just been stumped. Nothing has sounded quite right; nothing inspires. Until this week when I realized...
Spanish radio.
Don't ask. I don't know. It's not like Edward speaks Spanish. (It's not like my Spanish is anything to write home about.) The story is not set in the Southwest or Little Havana or even in some random big city barrio. There is not anything sanely explicable that would logically connect Spanish radio to frakkin' fairies. But there you go. I don't know why, but listening to Spanish radio helps me channel Edward.
My brain is clearly cracked, but it amuses me. Today I am happy.
On other fronts, Eureka was entertaining. The only thing I hate about it is that it and Dead Like Me keep making me forget that I want to watch the House reruns too. On a related note, Mason has a very Doyle-like vibe to him.
And to conclude with some total randomosity... There's an absolutely adorable photo of David Boreanaz giving Emily Deschanel a peck on the temple in next week's TV Guide. I am so looking forward to next season's Bones, the show I had no expectations for whatsoever at this time last year.