I know an author who works best wearing headphones blasting rock music while sitting in a busy cafe. Another writer friend spreads out at a desk in an upright chair.
Not me. I write with my legs stretched out across my tufted loveseat, laptop where it belongs, in my lap. After a few hours of writing at a traditional table, I sometimes get cramps behind my shoulder blades. My position of choice, which is supposedly not ergonomic, suits my body just fine.
I like peace and quiet when I write. Peace I have in abundance at my house, but silence is a matter of degree and perspective. I believe my house is quiet. Except for the buzzing of insects, occasionally rising to a shrill screech, the chirping of frogs, dog communication, and the outright screaming of certain birds that sometimes frequent the rice fields. Day to day, my rural area is quiet, especially compared to a city or even a small town. Until a major ceremony takes place in the local temple and the priests chant their blessings over a loud (very loud) speaker. When Indonesians get ahold of a sound system, they love to blast it. Fortunately, that has only happened once in the four years I have lived in this spot.
All this to say, I do not write with music playing in the background. Yet here is the playlist for Girl Submerged, Surging Tides: Book 1. Theses songs are not a soundtrack, linked to specific scenes or moments in the books, not exactly. Please do not take them that literally. I listened to these songs, in between moments of actual writing, as they clued me in to specific emotions I was seeking to convey. Music helped me find a mood, tap into intangible understanding, and translate it into my character’s lives. People tend to say of mystical experiences and certain ecstatic states, “there are no words for it.” In my books, I not only attempt to articulate spiritual and sexual encounters, but to language them in such a way that readers can perhaps taste the sensations and walk through those doorways themselves.
Here is my list for Book 1. I hope it sends you traveling to some of the places it took me. I listened to Banks, Jill Scott, and Amel Larrieux repeatedly, and Barry White slays me, but no one, absolutely no one, conveys passion for me the way Marvin does.