The Symphony of Syllables

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director

On a Sunday afternoon (and there happened to be one this weekend), one of my favorite getaways is to go to the symphony.  I'll never cease to be amazed by the astounding feat of eighty musicians all striking up the band at the wave of a baton, and staying in perfect rhythm for two hours amid a myriad of  constantly changing tempos.  There's also something about live orchestral music -- definitely its lack of words for one thing -- that allows me to become thoroughly enveloped in the musical experience.

Even while under the rapture of Rachmaninoff, the wordsmith in me is still present and accounted for, and can't help analyzing how the art of music can be very much like the art of writing.  They really have a great deal in common.

MAJORS & MINORS
A song with predominantly major chords (such as Do-Re-Mi) tends to sound positive, happy, hopeful, while a song in all minors (The Funeral March) evokes gloom, misery, danger.

HIGHS & LOWS 
We think of high sounds as bright and illuminating, while low, deep tones sound dark, even claustrophobic.
 
TEMPO
Fast passages suggest busy activity and forward motion, while slow passages evoke introspection and ponderance.

VOLUME
Loud is boisterous, triumphant, powerful.  Quiet is caring, tentative, gentle.

What does all of this have to do with words?  The same principles apply to every sentence we write.  Our choice of words have a huge bearing on the mood of the moment. Compare these simple sentences, for example:

1. "Will you let Lily know she's invited Wednesday for dinner?"
2. "Take that to your sister and tell her Tuesday is pot luck."

Number 2 has a little more punch because it's packed full of plosives (Ts and Ps).  Even if we don't read it out loud, our brain reacts to all those little percussive power points.

Another example:

1. He would be happy with nothing to do, if he could be sure that his boss didn't care.
2. If only he knew that Mr Abernathy didn't care, he would be just as happy having nothing to do.

Number 1 has a rhythmic flow, while number 2 has a less predictable cadence.  Nothing wrong with any of the above sentences, but if you're trying to further a particular mood (easygoing? Aggressive? Unsteady?) at this point in the story, you can see how a subtle variation can have subliminal impact.

One more:

1. I'm telling you, if you do that again, I promise never to forgive you as long as I live.
2. Don't.  Just don't.

I don't know about you, but I'd listen to the second one.

A great classical work often has multiple movements. A typical progression is Allegro (lively), Adagio (slower), Scherzo (swift), and back to an Allegro finale, bigger than before.  Isn't this very much like every story, in which we start with an interesting premise, then give the hero problems to bog them down, then they find the strength to answer the call of battle, then wave the flag of victory?  (That's when we break out the timpanis for some heavy duty hoopin' and hollerin'.)  And through it all we provide a roller coaster of ups and downs, fast and slow, hard and soft, to keep things from getting monotonous.

Every sentence we compose is part of a symphony, bigger than the sum of its parts.  Each measure of our composition will measure up if we put the right mood into the words we choose.  With over 250,000 words in the English language, we have a lot of notes to play with.

Undercover at the Library

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director

Memphis Library

About a week ago, while on business at my local library, I decided to investigate the fiction section to gather a little intel. Specifically, I was curious to see how many of the authors we’ve featured in the magazine were represented on the public shelves.

I started with the A’s and was quickly rewarded by the appearance of Tamera Alexander, Christa Allan and Andy Andrews. Familiar friends Sandra Balzo and Nancy Cohen were not far behind. These authors and their publishers are among those who recognize the opportunity to reach new readers outside the bookstore.

By the time I got to the G’s and spied Tricia Goyer, the silence of the library was suddenly broken when I detected the sound of live music being played. Intrepidly making my way toward the event rooms to do some surveillance, I came upon a woodwind quintet from the Memphis Symphony, entertaining about two dozen 5 to 12 year olds through song and story. The librarian would read a paragraph and the band would play.  It was a clever and effective concept, combining reading with music, and I found myself just as enraptured as the small fry.

Occasionally a parent, themselves lured by the pipers, led their child into the room. One in particular caught my eye. This little girl, probably four years old, entered with a blank expression and her hands covering her ears. The music wasn’t deafening so it didn’t take a polygraph to uncover the truth of her unfiltered displeasure.

I couldn’t help wondering whether this tyke was raised on rap and considered melodies foreign and offensive, or perhaps she was more an aficionado of the cello and there just wasn’t one present. Clearly, none of this seemed to matter to the other 24 kids who hung on every note.

This library encounter provided a reminder of several things of value to this writer:

• Words and music each convey the entire range of human emotion. Put them together and you have a powerful collaboration. Like a well-scored motion picture, some authors find it helpful to listen to music that fits the mood of whatever scene they’re writing.
• Your audience will pay avid attention to you if they like what you’re doing. (In some cases they’re willing to sit on the floor.)
• Whenever you do something creative, some critics are going to love it, and others simply won’t. 9 times out of 10 it will be more a reflection of them, than of you. 

I didn’t happen to notice whether the little girl ever warmed up to the presentation and eventually uncovered her ears. I hope she did, and joined these other little lives that were enriched because somebody wrote good words and somebody else played pretty music.

Me, I still had big library fish to fry, authors to check out, and mysteries to solve. Like, who is Dewey and why do we still use his Decimal System?