Once a week I host a writer who uses music as part of their creative environment – perhaps to connect with a character, populate a mysterious place, or hold a moment still to explore its depths. This week my guest is UCLA tutor, Harold Ribelow Award nominee and professional psychic Rochelle Jewel Shapiro @RJShapiro
Soundtrack by Karen Siegel
What I Wish You’d Told Me is a collection of three stories of women of all ages grappling with the whacky and the tragic in their lives. An exciting new publishing company, (Shebooks) gave me the opportunity to publish an ebook of three short works of my choice. I already had two stories that I was delighted with, but there was one in me that my bones, my guts, had needed to write for so long, and each time I started out, the ‘how’ of writing the story — its basic narrative, where to start, the climax, denouement—was like a balloon bobbing overhead with the string always out of reach, no matter how high I jumped.
I went to music as I often do for inspiration, direction. Writing lines of prose on a page or notes on a staff are hugely different, but have parallels—they begin, have a middle, and an end. There’s mood, pacing, breath stops. I played Chopin, Sousa, Wagner, nothing clicked. And then, in one of my procrastination bouts, I looked up a video of my daughter-in-law, Karen Siegel and her acapella composition Confessions from the Blogosphere, and had the eureka moment I had been hoping for.
Karen (the woman with the blue top in the video) holds an undergraduate degree from Yale, an MM (masters of music) in musical composition from NYU’s Steinhardt School where she studied with Marc Antonio Consoli, and a PhD in music composition from CUNY Graduate Center where she studied with Tania León. In this piece, she alternated and layered humorous excerpts from random blogs. Sometimes the text was set intact and homophonic—with the whole choir singing the same text at the same time, in a single rhythm — as in the opening statement, ‘I like Paris Hilton for real. Should I be ashamed?’ More often, a fragment of text was repeated in one or two voice parts at a time, offset against the same text in another voice part or voice parts, to create a rhythmic texture. This texture was frequently a backdrop for a melody in a single voice part. At other times, the rhythmic texture itself was the focal point. Altogether, it was like a cento, a poem made up of quotes, lines, phrases from others.
It occurred to me that neither Karen nor I had to have the total vision of what our creations were going to be. She used lines of dialogue gathered by different people. Bingo, I could write lines of dialogue from each of the characters I wanted in Secrets (the first and newest short story in What I Wish You’d Told Me, and see how it came together later, rather than trying to create order right away.
It made sense to me, even physically. I have a spot in my right eye that I need to see around. Sometimes it blots out the full picture of what I need to see, but somehow, my mind creates the whole of it. A study from John Hopkins University shows that when a person looks at a figure, a number, or letter, or any shape, neurons in other areas of the brain’s visual center respond to different parts of that shape, almost instantaneously interlocking them like a puzzle to create an image that sees and understands. I’m sure this is true for all of our senses.
In Secrets, a story set in the 60s about a teenage girl, Leah, whose illusions about her best friend, Arianna’s family are blasted along with her faith in Kennedy’s Camelot, I began with a piece of dialogue from Arianna’s mother. ‘You ran him over!’ she says. ‘It wasn’t a dog. It was an old man.’ Arianna’s father counters with, ‘I wouldn’t have hit anything if you weren’t so drunk that I had to be the one to drive after I had a few.’
After pages of dialogue, some of which I got rid of in the end —’Kill your darlings,’ as Arthur Quiller-Couch advised in his lectures On the Art of Writing — I was able to fill in the rest, and that was the secret of my writing Secrets.
Rochelle Jewel Shapiro’s first novel, Miriam the Medium (Simon & Schuster), was nominated for the Harold U. Ribelow Award. Her novel Kaylee’s Ghost is an Indie Finalist. She’s published essays in the New York Times and Newsweek and in many anthologies. Her poetry, short stories, and essays have appeared in the Coe Review, Compass Rose, the Griffin, Inkwell Magazine, the Iowa Review, the Los Angeles Review, the MacGuffin, Memoir And, Moment, Negative Capability, Pennsylvania English, The Carolina Review, and more. She won the Brandon Memorial Literary Award from Negative Capability. Shapiro is a professional psychic who currently teaches writing at UCLA Extension. Read more about her at her website. Find her on Twitter @RJShapiro
20 thoughts on “The Undercover Soundtrack – Rochelle Jewel Shapiro”
The influence of one medium of creation with another is something I had never considered.In each case humor is combined with statements that are to be presented..
Always great to open to new venues for inspiration. Marcel Duchamps stopped producing any art for ten years to play chess.
Wonderfull piece from a wonderful writer!
Thanks, Caroline – it was a pleasure to host Rochelle. Have you seen her previous post in the series? Look at the sidebar and you’ll find everything she’s posted here.
I’m so glad my music inspired you! I would never have guessed that’s how you arrived at your story.
The very Karen Siegel – word gets about! Delighted you found your way here, Karen, and thanks for leaving a comment.
Glad you enjoyed the piece, Caroline, especially since you know the composer, too.
Hi, Karen, Your work always inspires me. I’m either sobbing or laughing or agog. Best, Rochelle
What a fascinating connection! Rochelle, you have such an original way of thinking. working and seeing! I loved following your journey.
Thank you so much, Yona. You, too.
Thanks for stopping by, Yona! I love this post of Rochelle’s. She’s made a real artist’s connection here.
What a fascinating piece about composition and how much artists can learn from one another across genres! (See the Matisse cut-outs for another example: so much to learn as a writer from his use of negative and positive space…) And, such a lovely tribute from a mother-in-law to her daughter-in-law: upends the stereotypes pitting women against one another…
Thanks, Lisa! Nice to see you here. We were chatting a loooooooonnnnnnggggg while ago about you possibly appearing here. How’s your project going?
The Matisse cutouts also showed me how people can go on creating into old age if they have the right support, which fills me with hope. Best, Rochelle
I’m always fascinating by the processes of various writers as I’m often in that same place of struggling with an idea that is very much alive in my mind but that can’t seem to take shape as a story that works. I love your comparison of prose writing to music writing and its rhythms. Envisioning a piece of writing that way is beautiful and, for me at least, makes it less intimidating.
Hi Gabriela! I’ve been in that position too – struggling to bring a set of ideas into order. I find music slows the hurricane, suggests patterns and connections, and often a governing order that helps it fit together. Delighted you enjoyed Rochelle’s blog – do come back, we do this every week.
Thanks for your response, Gabriella. Yes, those ideas that need a job. Best, Rochelle.
Wonderful musical descriptions of Karen’s piece. And how you used it!
Thank you, Stephen. Best, Rochelle.