notepad 6: What New Music Can Do
Your favorite artist to listen to while writing just came out with a new album. The violin is familiar. The beats in the background are new. Everything about it is perfect.
Sitting at the kitchen table with rain making puddles in the grass outside the window. The cat sits in the windowsill and you look over every few minutes to smile at her. She’s preoccupied. She’s mystified.
The speaker that sits atop the packed bookcase begins playing the new album. The experience is different. During the last album you were in a different apartment, with headphones plugged into your laptop as you sat out on the balcony and glanced up at the rain every so often in front of you. There was no cat. Your roommate was allergic to cats. Now there’s no roommate and a beautiful cat.
The speaker moves onto the next song.
You turn the page in your notebook. The feeling of excitement rushes over you. That inspiring feeling that sometimes hits you at the worst times — in line at the grocery store, walking into work, at the gym. This time everything is perfect. You close the notebook and fetch your laptop.
The laptop screen is euphoric.
Your fingers get lost somewhere in the keys. One by one they melt into the black keys with white illuminated letters. Soon enough you’re in up to your elbows.
Then you dive in.
Hours go by.
When you finally emerge you’re sitting in front of a new story. Where did it come from?
The music has stopped playing. The album ended two hours ago, but you didn’t even notice. The music opened the door and you stepped in. The door shut behind you, but you didn’t mind. You were there, in the creative realm. You were exactly where you needed to be.
The cat has left the windowsill and needs attention.