This week I am reading Absolutely on Music by Haruki Murakami. Reading the quote below, I remembered one of the first posts I wrote here, The rushing rhythm of writing. It is a movie review of Our Last Tango about Maria Nives who wants nothing but to dance the tango. The rhythm runs through her blood.
In the blurb on the back of the book, Murakami calls himself a music lover and states that he is dedicated to music. He has also written a book called What I talk about when I talk about running. Maria Nives is obviously devoted to dancing the tango. Music, dancing, and running all have a rhythm to them. Murakami argues so does writing.
Sounds, silences, and the rhythm of writing
Don’t ask me to clap along to a tune because I will miss every beat. But writing is my passion, and I recognize the feeling of an inner rhythm when I am writing. This sense of rhythm comes first. The second kind of rhythm, when it comes to writing is the one I can infuse into a sentence and a paragraph by for example the length of words.
A great jazz musician applies her inner rhythm by listening well to what is already playing but also to what is about to be played.
I want to do the same when I sit down to write. At first, it can be stifled but if I don’t force anything flow will set in. I merge my inner rhythm with listening and trusting this alchemy makes writing become like a dance.
One of my favorite songs last year was Katie Melua’s Leaving the mountain. Mainly because of the line “it all came alive in our listening.” We can take each other places by listening and tell stories.
Your turn to dance the tango on the typewriter
I saw a meme where the jazz playing scene from Aristocats was dubbed with Ramstein music. It worked and the setting became a whole new scene. How does a scene change if you imagine a different music score playing in the background?
Describe your sense of rhythm when writing by writing a scene with music and dance. What kind of music and dancing is it and how does the passion come through?