November Girls seems to have come with a soundtrack. Sometimes stories do, sometimes they really, really don’t. Chris Bachelder, my undergrad fiction teacher, used to advise us to “enfold ourselves in silence” in order to write. A lot of time that works best for me. Sometimes music comes of its own accord.
I’d spend a lot of time last November when I drafted this sucker listening to Steeleye Span and related bands on Pandora: Fairport Convention, Pentangle, other British folk. I was looking for bands that sung Childs’ Ballad-based songs. I found out that The White Stripes did a rad cover of “Black Jack Davey”.
At some point, while Pandora-ing, I wandering into the land of sixties Brit-rock. The Beatles. The Zombies. Turns out my novel’s soundtrack goes from the mid-sixties to the mid-seventies.
Every writer is composed of three parts: The writer, the editor, and the looney. My inner madwoman says “Hey, since it has a 1970ish soundtrack, let’s set it in the 70s!” My editor points all the plot holes that would happen: cell phones, the look and feel of Colorado Springs, etc. My writer says, “Damn it, Anne, you already changed the TENSE and PERSON of a bunch of scenes, don’t change the dang time period!” Sigh. Turns out editing novels is hard.
I’ve decided that a good anthem for my novel, aside from “Seagull” as mentioned previously, is “She’s Not There” by the Zombies. Who’s the “she”? Could be either sister.