I don’t know about you, but I have trouble writing without music. Music helps me focus, blocks out distractions, and sets the mood for the scene I’m writing. While songs have inspired fanfictions and even scenes in my novels, I’ve never flat out wrote a story from just what comes to mind while listening to a song. Well, today I decided to try that very thing. I’m calling it a “songwrite.” I was inspired to try out a freewrite-type post from reading one of my follower’s blogs, Like Star Filled Skies. She posted a few of her freewrites, and I really loved the idea and wanted to try it out myself! You can read one of her freewrites here:
For the song part of my “songwrite,” I chose “O Come, O Come Emanuel” sung by Enya. I’ve heard the song by various artists countless times on the radio, but Francesca Battistelli’s version (my favorite!) made me fall in love with it. While looking for Francesca’s version on Youtube, I found Enya’s version and decided to give it a try and was impressed. It has a fantasy-like vibe about it, explaining the direction I went with the story. Here’s the song:
And here’s the “write” part! I set my goal at 300 words, whether or not I felt the story was done. I came in at 326, so I was only 26 words over!
The heavy, wooden door creaks open, and I enter in. I walk slowly down the aisle, careful not to step on the hem of my dress. There is an eerie silence that fills the air. If I shut my eyes tight, I can almost hear the monks moving about, their soft chants filling the ancient halls of this once sacred place. Only there are no monks tonight. Only me. At least, I hope I’m the only one here. Hands trembling, I slip the hood of my black cloak off my head. My footsteps echo throughout the hall and off the grey stones that run from the floor up, up, up the walls. The stained glass windows glow with an odd warmth as the pale moonlight fills the chamber, and yet the howling of the wind outside makes me remember there is no peace in this place.
I stop in the middle of the aisle, too scared to go on, but knowing that I have to. It isn’t the first time I wish I hadn’t been chosen for this. The sound of bells fills the chamber, and my heart begins to pound. My fingers wrap around the hilt of my weapon, and I wait for silence to settle over the place again. I have to go through with this. I was chosen. I take a deep breath, and start walking again. As the Leader, it’s my duty to perform the Ceremony. Only … I’m not really the Leader. That fact haunts me, and I realize what a horrible mistake I made that day. If I had only known. For a moment, I pause again and lean against the stone wall seeking support from its solid strength. My dark hair falls forward in waves about me, and I push it back over my shoulder and straighten up again, resolved to go on. I have to make my mistake right, and the only way is going through with this.