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Showing posts with label music as a writing tool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music as a writing tool. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Therapy through Comedy (Blank Space Filk) [Revised]

A cluster of toadstools, red with white speckles, on a lawn, surrounded by green grass and fallen autumn leaves. Image copyright © 2018 Laura S. Taylor.
Hey, folks. It’s been awhile. I’ve been doing a lot of personal work while facing significant challenges, health and otherwise.

One thing that I find therapeutic, and healing, and also fun, is filking. I can’t read music, but I sure can carry a tune. Like I said in my last Million Words post, I always have some song or another in my head. That’s why it’s so easy to filk.

On that note, I absolutely adore Taylor Swift. As a person she’s an inspiration, and her songs are always so fantastic. So it was fun to write this parody filk of “Blank Space”. And much like the I Will Survive / You Oughtta Know mashup I created last year, crafting this felt right.

Edit April 18, 2019: Somehow, I, um, forgot half the chorus. That's been fixed now.


Efforless (Sad Case)
(To the tune of Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space”; parody by Laura S. Taylor)

Heya sweetie, how’ve you been
How you’ve changed since we bid adieu
Thinning hair, sallow skin
Say, that ulcer looks good on you, but hey,
Don’t feel bad
It’s clear that you’re no Gallahad
That’s why you gave up what we had

Blissful nights, tender days
I was head over heels for you
Marriage vows, loving gaze
And I thought you felt that too, but you switched
Apron strings for wedding rings
And while you made my heart sing
Turns out you were foreshadowing
(The night we met, I thought you were joking)

You said you spelled it “effor”
Too much work for you to write the T
When you decided it was over
You didn’t bother to inform me
You couldn't be there when needed
That's the bottom line
And now you've made your bed (kinda)
But me, I'm fine

'Cause I was young and romantic
I trusted way too much
Believed in white-picket-fence love
But apathy's your crutch
I thought we were forever
Thought that we had everything
But you’re a sad case baby
And you crushed my dreams

Lost future, vanished friends
I was a pariah overnight
Fallen tears, loose ends
Pardon me for trying to fight for us
At first I tried
To save our love
But you denied
True feelings you just chose to hide

New arrival, supposed friend
She was conveniently present
Scheming hussy, feelings spent
She saw you and said,
“Oh my god, he’s the one
I want him, I’m having fun
Who cares if his wife comes undone?”
(They call it emotional cheating for a reason)

’Cause it was too much effor
Too much work for her to find her own man
She decided you should be hers
You chose to throw out what you had
You couldn't be there when needed
That's the bottom line
And now you've made your bed (kinda)
But me, I'm fine

'Cause I was young and romantic
I trusted way too much
Believed in white-picket-fence love
But apathy's your crutch
Got a long list of lies she’s told you
But you can't even do the math
’Cause you’re a sad case, baby, and she’s
A sociopath

Oh, adulting’s only hard if you force it
First you gotta, first you gotta own your shit

Yeah, you said you wrote it “effor”
Too much work for you to write the T
Communication was just too hard
For you to work it out with me
You couldn't be there when needed
That's the bottom line
And now you've made your bed (kinda)
But me, I'm fine

'Cause I was young and romantic
I trusted way too much
Believed in white-picket-fence love
But apathy's your crutch
Your cowardace was life-changing,
But I’ll be okay ’cause I see
That you’re a sad case baby,
And now I’m free

Monday, June 25, 2018

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Author Funk: The Filk

Hey everyone! I've hardly been home the past few weeks, owing to sisterly graduation followed by ConCarolinas and my writing retreat. So I'm sitting here in the late North Carolinian afternoon, thankful for the air conditioning and resting after some great conversations.

We took a day off halfway through the week.This year, I was feeling creative and exhuberant, so I did something I haven't done in awhile: I filked. I present to you: "Author Funk." (And no, not the kind you'd think.)

* * *

"Author Funk"
Filk of: "Uptown Funk" by Mark Ronson feat. Bruno Mars
by: Laura Sheana Taylor 

Doh
Doh doh doh, doh doh doh, doh doh
Doh doh doh, doh doh doh, doh doh
Doh doh doh, doh doh doh, doh doh
Doh doh doh, doh duh (Aaaaaaow!)

This plot
Will go far
Those re-views
Them five stars
This one’s for that story
That glory
Straight masterpiece
Writin’, incitin’
Every point-of-view’s pretty
Got characters and fancy words
Gotta kiss ourselves we’re so witty

We’re too hot (hot damn)
Call the reviewers and librarians
We’re too hot (hot damn)
Make a TV wanna retire, man
We’re too hot (hot damn)
Time to binge read now if you can
We’re too hot (hot damn)
And we’re good about that plottin’
Break it down...

Readers hit your hallelujah (ooh)
Readers hit your hallelujah (ooh)
Readers hit your hallelujah (ooh)
'Cause Author Funk gon' give it to ya
'Cause Author Funk gon' give it to ya
'Cause Author Funk gon' give it to ya
Call an agent, ‘cuz we’ll succeed
Don't believe us just read (Come on)

Doh
Doh doh doh, doh doh doh, doh doh (Hah!)

Don’t believe us just read

Doh
Doh doh doh, doh doh doh, doh doh (Hah!)

Don’t believe us just read
Don’t believe us just read
Don’t believe us just read
Don’t believe us just read
Hey, hey, hey, oh!

Stop
Don’t get weary
Do some edits, then send that query
Take a breath, then don’t you lurk
World buildin’s hard work!
With that stylin’, applyin’, point of view and some conflict
Get agents, and payment
Ten-book contracts’d be perfect

We’re too hot (hot damn)
Call the reviewers and librarians
We’re too hot (hot damn)
Make a TV wanna retire, man
We’re too hot (hot damn)
Time to binge read now if you can
We’re too hot (hot damn)
And we’re good about that plottin’

Readers hit your hallelujah (ooh)
Readers hit your hallelujah (ooh)
Readers hit your hallelujah (ooh)
'Cause Authors Funk gon' give it to ya
'Cause Authors Funk gon' give it to ya
'Cause Authors Funk gon' give it to ya
Call an agent, ‘cuz we’ll succeed
Don’t believe us just read (Come on)

Doh
Doh doh doh, doh doh doh, doh doh (Hah!)

Don’t believe us just read

Doh
Doh doh doh, doh doh doh, doh doh (Hah!)

Don’t believe us just read
Don’t believe us just read
Don’t believe us just read
Don’t believe us just read
Hey, hey, hey, oh!

Before we leave
Let me tell y'all a little something
Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up
Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up, uh
I said Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up
Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up

Come on, write
Jump on it
If it’s fantasy then flaunt it
If it’s sci-fi then own it
Don't brag about it, come show me
Come on, write
Jump on it
If it’s fantasy then flaunt it
If it’s sci-fi then own it
Come call an agent, ‘cuz we’ll succeed
Don’t believe us just read (Come on)

Doh
Doh doh doh, doh doh doh, doh doh (Hah!)

Don’t believe us just read

Doh
Doh doh doh, doh doh doh, doh doh (Hah!)

Don’t believe us just read
Don’t believe us just read
Don’t believe us just read
Don’t believe us just read
Hey, hey, hey, oh!

Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up (say whaa?!)
Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up
Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up (say whaa?!)
Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up
Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up (say whaa?!)
Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up
Authors Funk you up, Authors Funk you up (say whaa?!)
Authors Funk you up

Aaaaaaow!

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Lost in the Music

I'm counting the cars
on the freeway below
lost in the music ...

- David Usher

For more than a year, I've heard people say that listening to music while trying to concentrate on something (such as studying or writing) is bad, because scientists have proven with multiple studies that multitasking is bad.

And I get where they're coming from. They're right: multitasking *is* bad. When I have to multitask at anything, I don't get nearly as much done as when I'm focused on a single project at once.

But I disagree that listening to music should be counted among that.

I am the eldest of four girls, with a five-plus year gap separating me and the other three. Now married, I live in an apartment and I don't get to choose my neighbours, whether they be screaming children or hard-partying college kids. My entire life has involved finding peace and quiet so I can write. And since I don't live on a farm or in a cabin in the woods or on the lake, away from the bustle of life, I need some way of minimizing distraction. Music helps me do that.

I'm trying to think of a way to explain this. In some places on the Internet, I've tried to explain that I use the music to fortify the part of my brain that deals with interruptions. The sound forms a barrier from *other* sounds that might distract me. The rhythm from the beat plus the melody of the song itself both get me in the groove. I stop listening to the song itself and I get into a zone. The music protects me. Did you know, I wrote the climactic two chapters of SIGN OF THE STAR by listening to Kevin Rudolf ft. Lil Wayne's "Let it Rock" on repeat sixty-eight times?

Now that I really think about it, I realize that what I'm describing is a trance. Hey, if it helps me write, I am perfectly fine with that designation.

A final thought: Several times in the last few months, I have tried writing without music. The fact that I am easily distracted aside, I feel unschooled, unable to concentrate, and way less productive. The only exception to this is (don't laugh) when I'm alone in the woods or it's so late at night, there *are* no distractions.

Even then, there's an iTunes in my head. Earworms? Not really. At this point, if something annoys me I can switch songs.

What I think this all comes down to, though, is the oft-repeated Magical Words mantra: there is no one right way to do this. I shouldn't feel bad if others, even scientists, disagree. This is what works for me. If listening to music while writing doesn't work for you, that's okay; to each their own. The times when I forget this are the times when I am least producive; when I complain, my TOEM writing group laughs and tells me to don my headphones.

Girl, put your records on.