Making it up as I go

I never realized how much fun I could have singing until I realized how important it is to feel comfortable ad-libbing lyrics. Many a wrong word has been sung by Yours Truly over the years ("burning up the star-crossed herringbone" -- take a guess).  I hated my poor memory. I used to blame some imaginary dial in my head for being "tuned" to the wrong word, now I realize that dial was trying to help me find words I couldn't understand or remember. Now I embrace that dial with both hands and turn it to 11.

With the dial set there, I can write whole new verses:

Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

. . .
And if that diamond ring won't shine,
Daddy's gonna buy you a ball of twine.

And if that ball of twine rolls away,
Daddy's gonna buy you some modelling clay,

And if that modelling clay dries up,
Daddy's gonna buy you a fancy tea cup.

And if that fancy tea cup springs a leak,
Daddy's gonna buy you a babbling creek.

And if that babbling creek lacks fish,
Daddy's gonna buy you whatever you wish.

Other verses include rodeo clowns that aren't funny, castle towers that fall down, currencies that collapse, seeds that won't flower, and baseball bats that only hit fouls.

The best part is, my six month-old audience member provides instant and authentic feedback. Amen and good night.

Twelve Colonies Parking Garage

I love parking at the garage on Penn's campus. Their corner-less parking stubs always make me feel like I'm parking on the planet of Caprica.

Filmmaker David Kessler's work at Due North Exhibit

WHYY FM in Philadelphia reported on the lead-up to the Due North show tomorrow night, but I wanted make one more plug for those of you who might not have heard. The exhibit is at the Ice House project space in Crane Arts, and it features work by Icelandic and American artists. Friend and filmmaker, David Kessler is one of those American artists. A few weeks ago I was flattered when he asked me to help him edit some narration that will appear in his documentary.

It was not your typical narration for a documentary.

That's all I will say.

Come to the opening reception tomorrow night at Crane Arts, Icebox Project Space, 1400 N. American Street, Philadelphia, PA 19122. 6 pm-9 pm.

A question about process and a novel-length story

My latest writing project is a novel. There. I said it. I have been working on it for over a month, and it concerns a topic that's been intriguing me since 2003, that's about all I will say about its content. As for the process of this writing project, I find myself doing something I've never done before: saving drafts as I go

That is, after writing several thousand words, I save the document with a "save point" appended to the filename. I also save the document with its original filename, and then I get back to working in that document. Basically, once every week or so, I go through this:

Open "filename"
Writewritewritewrite.
Me: Okay, Marshall. You've been drafting and futzing around for a week. It's time to make a save point.
Go to File, Choose "Save as"... type "filename--save point 1." 
Go to File, Choose "Save as..." type filename." 
Computer: "You already have a file called "filename." Overwrite?"
Me: YES!
Computer: Ok. Saving. Done.
Back to writing. 
Writewritewritewrite.
Done writing for the day: Save.

The "save point" figuratively preserves the draft in amber, while I keep working on the novel. At this point, I have four "save points" that reveal how the novel has progressed--and changed--over the past month. I have removed portions of the novel, added portions of the novel; and I have also adjusted portions of the novel to better reflect my goals for the project.

Why not use MS Word's "track changes" feature? I thought that it might look kind of messy. In my draft, I have the entire arc of the story roughly puzzled out, but sometimes that puzzle changes dramatically; pieces appear and disappear, or shift from the outside to the inisde or vice-versa. At some point in the future, I would like to see the draft as it unfolded. I would rather scroll through these save points as whole artifacts that were, in their time, a representation of the story as it was.

I guess, in some way, I hope that these drafts might serve as artifacts I can study to learn more about my own process--and perhaps as teaching tools for others. I wonder. I also wonder if I'm alone in doing this.

Honoring the Winter Solstice (Shortest day of the year, NOT the coldest).

I know the winter solstice is almost three weeks behind us, but these continuing cold temperatures and shortened daylight hours reminds me of my brother's enlightening personal essay on how he honors the winter solstice. A blend of the scientific, the artistic, and perhaps the mystic. Love it.  Perhaps, I'll post a link to this again next year.

Did you know that he has an album coming out on January 21st? You can pre-order the digital version or the plant-able version of Songs of Light and Dust from Data Garden.

Songs of Light and Dust (the post where I review some new music by my brother)

My brother's amazingly complex (but also relaxing) album, Songs of Light and Dust, is coming out in just two weeks--I am psyched. One track, "Echoes Down the Corridors of Time"is already out at WXPN's site The Key. Julie Miller put together a nice eighty-word write-up.

I've been listening to the song all day, and I love it. For a piece of ambient music, the straight-forward rhythm surprises me, but the track also contains so many rich colors of sound: sometimes obvious, sometimes subtle. One minute, my brain is getting its groove on; the next, I'm floating in outer space watching the planets glide through the void. The song gets progressively more "spacey" while also referencing melodies, rhythms, and sounds from earlier in the song. Not to impose too much of a narrative onto it, but I liken it to humanity's development. The flow of the song reminds me of the most sensible title I ever heard given to a world history textbook: "World History: Patterns of Change and Continuity." Patterns of change and continuity--those are the two primary conceptual elements of this song, and it makes for both a relaxing and engaging listen. Where have we been? Where are we going? Where are we now? What matters? These are the questions this track asks.

My brother has been at work on this album for months. From time to time, I have listened to him working on other tracks, and I love what he has crafted. Not every track is as narrative or as in-your-ears rhythmic as "Echoes..." but they all reflect my brother's ear for how sound can tell stories, convey moods, and create new ideas. I can recall at least a few occasions listening to tracks-in-progress where I realized that so many of his interests were coming together so beautifully in the album--electronic music, his interest in how light affects the human body, the natural world (recently the Pine Barrens, but also Dark Sky areas), various technologies, space. Weeks ago, as I heard a few tracks here and there--before the album had a title--I told him to title it "music for space ships."

He ignored my idea. I'm glad. After hearing this completed track, I realized, yes, sure, the music is sometimes "spacey," but it's also very much of the body. The body? Yes. There are noticeable regular rhythms in "Echoes...", and at least one track later in the album, if I remember correctly, has human voices. Here's my point: in the void between bodies--be they heavenly bodies or human bodies--there is basically only light and dust and sound. What a gift to have these songs to acknowledge the void, but then to resist it, and ultimately, traverse it.

I think Data Garden is giving this away at six bucks. But, hey. I know. I'm biased.