If Life is But a Stage, Why Not Make it a Musical?

Thought for the day:  The books are alive with the sounds of music?

Talk about perfect timing. When I walked into our local convenience store on Saturday, the music immediately started to play: I don't want her, you can have her, she's too fat for me ...  I laughed so hard, I'm sure the clerk considered kicking my keister to the curb. (very politely, of course.)

Okay, so I lied. That didn't actually  happen, but if it HAD, I would've laughed. I mean, I may not actually be fat, but I do seem to have misplaced my waistline a couple years ago. (Now, I'm ... fluffy.)

Anyway, the thing is, I'm still intrigued with the idea of living life with a soundtrack. We had some fun with this topic a while ago, and some of you guys came up with excellent ideas as to what your theme songs should be. (My personal favorite was Delores's idea of the Hallelujah Chorus to signal her entrance.)

But even better than a theme song, what if life were a full-blown musical?

I mean, how cool would it be to have your very own back-up singers?

Oooh, wait. If I'm gonna have background singers, maybe THESE guys would be (ahem) better . . .

Hmm, the possibilities are endless.

And there'd never be a doubt when your significant other was feeling romantic. The music and dancing would be a dead giveaway.







Just think of it. If our politicians had to communicate their ideas to us through song and dance, how much more fun it'd be! Imagine what a session of Congress would look like! They'd be having FUN; we'd be having FUN; and who'd have time to wage wars and mayhem if everything had to be set to music and choreographed first?

(sigh) I know. Ain't gonna happen, but it's fun to think about, anyway. And I'd love to live it . . .  for just one day.

Some writers listen to music as they write. Helps them get in the right mood. But what do you think about a book with its own soundtrack?

Honest to goodness, Jodi Picoult's latest book Sing you Home, an amazing tale about gay rights, reproductive science, and Christian extremists, comes complete with a soundtrack. Each book comes with its own CD of original songs. I mean, how cool is that? I must confess, I didn't actually listen to the CD until after I finished reading the book but still, it's an intriguing concept, isn't it?






And now, the next step: E-books with start-to-finish music, sound effects, and ambient sounds, intended to boost the reader's imagination and engagement. The soundtrack is even supposed to automatically pace itself to match the individual's reading pace.

Booktrack, a New York startup company launched less than two weeks ago, equates today's e-books to the old silent films. Sound revolutionized film; why not books? Their first full-length book release featuring soundtrack will be The Power of Six, a YA novel, to be followed by Huckleberry Finn, Jane Eyre, Romeo and Juliet, and The Three Musketeers. This month and next, the short stories In the South, by Salman Rushdie, and Solace, by Jay McInerney, will be released. Currently, availability is limited, and can only be purchased through Apple's App Stores, but expansion into other formats is expected to come in future months.

So, whatcha think? Cost won't be terribly higher, with say, the soundtrack version of The Power of Six only expected to run three dollars more than the regular $9.99 e-version. Think you'd be interested in checking out this new technology?

Me, I dunno. I hate distractions when I'm reading, and a constant soundtrack may prove to be just that. Then again, given the opportunity, I may have to check it out . . .  just for the experience.

(Cue Happy Trails to You and fade to black.)

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Do You Smell What I Smell?

Thought for the day:  A picture may be worth a thousand words, but a scent will linger longer.

CORRECTION: In my last post, I screwed up when I said the only talent my grandmother's boxers ever had was generating copious quantities of killer flatulence. Not so. They were champion droolers, as well, and could string a line of slobber from both corners of their mouths all the way to the floor. Quite impressive, really. And the male, Chief, was also a major ball player. Nothing made him happier than hours spent chasing after his well-chewed, slobbery, soggy, slimy rubber ball and bringing it back to you. Whether you were dressed for the sport or not.

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Studies indicate that the male brain, not to mention certain other sundry body parts, responds more enthusiastically to visual stimuli than the female brain. That is, the sight of bare flesh has the tendency to rev up a man's juices faster than it will a woman's. That doesn't mean men are more responsive to non-sexual visual stimuli, however. My hubby considers traipsing around behind me in an art museum to be a scant step above having a root canal. Nor does it mean women are immune to the visual appeal of certain male physiques, either. I've heard some women say the only reason they watch football is for the sheer pleasure of ogling all those tight bottoms clad in tight breeches. (Not that I've ever noticed, mind you. I watch it purely for the game.)

An excellent athlete, I'm sure.

To varying degrees, we all react to visual images. Females respond viscerally to the sight of babies, both human and animal. Men are more apt to notice an anomaly in their surroundings. Or in a movie. This, however, may be due to the fact that while a teary-eyed woman is absorbed in the story, her man may be bored out of his gourd, and itching to poke holes in the movie for his own perverse entertainment. (I mean, really, who CARES if a Roman gladiator is wearing Reeboks, right?)

Anyway.

The point is, yes, men react, women react, we all react to what we see. But why do some writers work so hard to reproduce a specific visual image in the minds of their readers, while completely ignoring the value of our other senses?

Like hearing. It would be totally cool if life were accompanied by a soundtrack, wouldn't it? If music could warn us when danger's coming, or if maybe a goofy-sounding ditty could've let my son-in-law's Uncle Mike know I was just joking when I told him we'd already met our quota for Mikes at the wedding, so he'd have to leave. (Thankfully, after a brief awkward moment, he DID laugh ...)

If your entrance were marked with music, what do you think it would be?

I'd like to think mine would be some really cool, sexy down and dirty sax music, but unfortunately, I'm more of a Mancini's "Baby Elephant Walk" kinda person. (sigh)

Some writers listen to music when they write. It helps them tap into the proper mood they're attempting to recreate with their words. Kinda like adding a soundtrack to their writing. Do you think it's possible for a writer to provide some semblance of auditory stimulation for his readers, as well?

Yeah, I think it is. Can't provide a full-blown soundtrack, of course, but word choice makes all the difference. Take the statement: "The dog barked." It provides us with basic information, and we understand what the words are saying. But how about this statement? "The chihuahua yapped like a pit bull on helium." It provides the same information, but in a manner such that we can almost hear the little mutt.

Certain sounds leave indelible marks on our psyches, like fingernails scraping across a blackboard, a bugler playing the haunting notes of Taps, coyotes howling, and bombs exploding. When a writer successfully taps into the sounds existing in our collective psyches, he may indeed make it possible for a reader to clearly hear the action in his mind. (And let's not forget the potential power of POW-BOOM-SPLAT onomatopoeia, either.)

Incorporating taste and touch into our writings is also possible, by taking advantage of common sensory experiences. Most of us are familiar with the taste of blood, salt, and vinegar, and the feel of silk, satin, and sand paper.

But I'm more interested in the sense of smell.


Smells have the uncanny ability to evoke very strong deep-rooted reactions and emotions. Don't believe me? Have you ever experienced the phenomenon of catching a whiff of baking bread, a dank musty cellar, a certain brand of perfume or aftershave, or even the scent of sulfur, and been immediately gut-punched by an unexpected memory?

Does the smell of sulfur elicit any memories for you?

Psychologists say our brains are hardwired to associate smells with memories. It's only natural that whenever I smell a dank dusty smell, I am immediately transported to my maternal grandmother's scary cellar. There's a certain expensive brand of make-up ... I don't know what it IS, because I'm ... er ... thrifty .... but whenever I catch a faint whiff of it, I'm cuddled up next to my paternal grandmother again. Old Spice? Can't smell the stuff without thinking of my father.

So, the wise writer will make an effort to incorporate smells into his work. Take advantage of your capacity to stimulate associative memories with your smelly words. Because the bottom line is, evoking a reader's reaction to the smells you describe in your writing will also evoke a strong reaction to your writing itself.

Ya know? Kinda makes me wonder if when I'm long gone, my children and grandchildren will associate any particular scent with me. 

Hmmmm, maybe I'd better lay off the baked beans.

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.