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Soundtrack

Soo…is it weird that my manuscripts have soundtracks? No. I didn’t think so, because I know for certain that I’m not the only writer (published or nearly-published) that has these. (Insert sassy neck and eye roll) Thank you.

Today there’s no sexy pieces to relay because I’m not feeling very, you know, passionate, and after last night’s stink of a disaster into the foray of trying to express exactly what the hell I wanted to say, on the blank screen, that sat in front of me, teasing and taunting; I found myself wondering if the feelings that I had after, you know, not being able to write, were normal? I posed the query to twitter and a good writer-friend and newly published author of Goddess of Legend, Ms. Erin Ashley Tanner, answered with something that made me laugh and feel tons better about the mood and malady that had encroached upon my being.

Felt tons better.

Anyway.

Her response (see them here @erintheauthor or @licitrecidivist) lead to the aforementioned questions, book/writing soundtracks or playlists, do you have them?

Every manuscript that I have ever written (accepted and rejected) has a soundtrack…not because I plan on encompassing them into my marketing plan or the like (but hey, if there’s a sell there, then I’ll encompass my ass off), but because they absolutely help.

There are days when I’m in an extremely delightful mood and my story causes for sorrow, and no matter how hard I’ve genuinely tried to get to that sorrowful state, because yes, I have to be there, I have to become the hero or the heroine and experience the pain that I’m trying to relay, sometimes there’s even tears, I can’t get there by just wanting to. (long sentence, whatever, I’ll refer you to the unedited part of this blog’s tag line, thanks (more sassy next rolling and such))  

Don’t judge.

The reason? I feel like if I’m crying then at that point in the tale, my (potential) readers should be too.

Salient, indeed.

There are also days that I’m feeling a little down, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t buck up,  and I really need to because at that point in my tale, my hero or heroine is about to experience overwhelming joy. And, I have to be there, I have to experience that joy that I’m trying to relay, sometimes there are even tears—happy tears in this case—and I can’t get there by just wanting to.

Don’t judge.

The reason? If I’m overwhelmed with joy by just writing these words, and if I can feel what the hero or heroine is feeling at this point, then my (potential) readers should be able to too.

Salient, indeed.  

There are times as well, when I’m feeling anything but sexy. Yes, you guessed it, I’m at that in the story where there’s some sexy time coming up, and damn right, I’ve got to be there too. I’ve got to feel what my characters are feeling and I can’t get there by just you know…wanting to.

Don’t judge.

The reason? If I’m pressing my thighs together, panting slightly, flushed, and my nipples are a tad puckered…then I sure hope like hell my (potential) readers are feeling some of the same things.

Salient, indeed.

All of that to say, I have help with getting there and it comes in the form of music for most of this, the last one (feeling sexy and such) well, there’s a little outside help there, but that’s a blog for another time.

The point? 

Music, music helps with a lot.

As mentioned in previous blogs, when I went off to college, I majored in Music Education and was there on a music scholarship, all of this before realizing that yes, I love music, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do, not professionally anyway. Anyhoo, during the two years of undergraduate course work in Music Education, which basically if you’ve taken these two years, you’re pretty grounded and rounded in the field, not to say that you don’t need the last two and half to make your professional studies complete, it’s just that, with these basics, you’re good to go.

Digression.

During that time, I was afforded the opportunity to learn about different styles, genres, etc, and how they affected and effected the soul. All that I learned is true. It does and it can change you, and I’m thankful for that experience because knowing that, knowing that all I had to do was pop in a CD, plug up the iPad/iPod or what have you and tune to a piece that’ll change my psyche has helped tremendously in my writing.

Why?

Because when I’m delightful and I need to cry, (especially if it’s a scene of reminiscing about a bastard that’s broken my heroine’s heart) I can pop in Melanie Fiona’s And It Kills Me or Monica’s Ring The Bell and get those tears flowing, not because the songs actually makes me cry, but those song take me back to a place where I’ve been, and that place makes me cry.

Why?

Because when I’m feeling a little down and need to buck up, I can queue Beyonce’s Get Me Bodied, or Check Up On it, Brandy’s Sitting on Top of The World, Biggie’s Hypnotize (don’t ask why these songs make me happy, but they do, I guess it’s because they’re all fun) or Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines, and then suddenly, I’m up dancing and feeling loads better than before.

Why?

Because when I’m feeling not so sexy, I can pop in, Bed, by J-Holiday, Tamia’s, Can’t Get Enough, Trey Songz’, Neighbors Know My Name, Wale Feat. Juicy J and Nicki Minaj, Clappers (Don’t ask), and the next thing you know, I’m seat-dancing and having sexy thoughts. Lots of sexy thoughts.

All of that explaining and such, because I wanted to know what your soundtrack is, if you have one (because I think it’s dope if you do, definitely leave it below in the comments or tweet me), and if you could tell from mine (see below) what my story is about….just curiosity and also fulfilling my pre-new year’s resolution of blogging everyday. Also, I think that with each new project, I’m going to post what I’m listening to.

*shrugs*

Now Playing:

1. Alicia Keys – Girl on Fire

2. Beyonce – Best Thing I Never Had

3. India Arie – Brown Skin

4. Neyo – Can We Chill

5. Jay-Z – Encore

6. Beyonce – Get Me Bodied

7. Gyptian – Hold Yuh

8. Ryan Leslie – How It Was Supposed To Be

9. J. Holiday – Bed

10. Rihanna Ft. Drake – What’s My Name

11. Nat King Cole – When I Fall in Love

12. Rihanna Ft. Mikky Ekko – Stay

13. Toni Braxton – He Wasn’t Man Enough For Me

14. Nelly Ft. Avery Storm – In My Life

15. Justin Timberlake – Mirrors

16. Tamar Braxton – Love and War

17. Kelly Rowland – Motivation

18. Ryan Leslie – My Addiction

19. Ludarcris Ft. Diamond, Trina, and Eve) – My Chick Bad (Remix)

20. Wale Ft. Chris Brown and Fabolous – Pretty Girls (Remix)

21. Brandy Ft. Chris Brown – Put It Down

22. Southern University Human Juke Box –  V.S.O.P. by K. Michelle, arrangement

23. Beyonce – That’s How You Like It

24. Morgan State University Magnificent Marching Machine – Do it

25. Elizabeth City State University Marching Sound of Class – Couple of Forevers by Chrisette Michele, arrangement

26. Elizabeth City State University Marching Sound of Class – War (Vikings’ Version)

27. Elizabeth City State University Marching Sound of Class – Love and War by Tamar Braxton, arrangement

28. Tinie Tempah Ft. Emeli Sande – Let Go

29. Tinie Tempah Ft. Kelly Rowland – Invincible

30. Wale Ft. Tiara Thomas – Bad

I totally wanted to link the YouTube versions of these songs, but I promise you that I don’t feel like it, so just look them up yourself, if you have a chance. Anyhoo, so tell me whatcha think?

Vive Sine Paenitentia

   Res Ipsa Loquitur.
~Uncaught Recidivist

Last Year My Hair Fell Out…and other scary shit

So I’ll be your clown, behind the glass, go ‘head and laugh, cause it’s funny, I would too, if I saw me,
I’ll be your clown, on your favorite channel, my life’s a circus-circus, round in circles, I’m selling out tonight
~ Clown, Emeli Sande

The title speaks for itself, and the quote brings it all home. And it’s true! My hair absolutely fell out and my life IS a circus-circus! No specific reason…but then that’s not completely true, there was a reason, but I choose not to share that with you guys—don’t worry, it wasn’t anything too bad. I thought perhaps that God had smote me. My boyfriend of ten years and I split because…let’s just face it, I should’ve left his ass ten-months into the relationship, but I stuck it out, thinking that somehow, some way, all the alcohol in the world would miraculously disappear and he would no longer be the drunk that I knew he was. Don’t pooh-pooh me; I’ve lived inside of my imagination for a while, thus the need for this post. I digress (quite frequently). Though, I’m quite sure that I hadn’t been singled out by God to be smote, I did feel however, that I’d been singled out to begin again. Not by God, but by my grandiose sense of self-preservation. When the going gets tough in my life, I get going. I left him, my hair left me. The going was tough for us both I guess.
Seems logical?
No, that’s not quite how it happened, but in my mind and for the sake of sensationalism let’s just say it happened pretty damn close to that. I thought when I saw my once head of pretty curls, thick luxurious locks bid me adieu that I would lose it, but I didn’t, I bought a wig, covered it up and moved on with my life. It was, however, such an eye opening experience. Not, because of the hair falling out, but because of the sheer metaphor that life had giving me. No way, there was no smiting, I was dispensed a gift of literary gold, perhaps one day it will be well apart of my Magnum Opus…we’ll see. The gold/metaphor came because it was in those moments of baldness that I realized, this was a perfect depiction of who I was and fortunately/unfortunately, who I am.
The Uncaught Recidivist.
In the world, people were fooled, they thought that I was a happy go-lucky, longhaired, newly thirty-year-old with her future and the world at her feet. When I got home, I was a bald, single, thirty-year-old with a future/world that she had yet to have figured out. The latter being the truth…maybe? I have been too many times the one that “they” want to be, but I’ve been to me, the one that I’ve never wanted to be. Now, please don’t mistake this for self-pity or varied self-esteem. I’m pretty happy with myself, and I’m pretty pleased with what I see, though, I really do need to lose weight—shut up already, I’m doing it—however, in my span of thirty-one years, I’ve managed to create a world and person that I’m not, hence forth the “Uncaught” business of the blog, and I hadn’t realized until that very moment of missing hair, that that’s what was going on in my world.
In my life.
I had, in essence, been living a wig (a lie for those of you who lack wit). My life wasn’t a complete wig, but it wasn’t all my natural hair that’s for damned sure, and now, I’m in the process of trying to figure out, which one of those women I want to be. The bald woman or the wig wearer? Which would you choose? And think deeply, I’d be curious to know why you chose your answer. Until next time…

~Res Ipsa Loquitur, Caperent me, si potes,
Uncaught Recidivist