Music has always inspired my writing. This is largely, I am sure, because I am an avid country music listener. If you know anything about country music you are aware that the industry is largely story-songs. When my writing professors first taught me the terminology and structure that fiction traditionally follows, I immediately recognized those terms as ones for a lyricist, as well. For example, I am sure the use of open-ended denouement (look it up) applies more to country music (or other genres of music) than it does fiction.
One of my oldest “original” stories, which I just came across the other day when cleaning, was titled Thicker than Blood, a direct plagiarism of the Garth Brooks song of the same title. But the song moved me and caused me such serious reflection that the emotion had to funnel out of my system as a tale. My music and my writing, you see, go hand-in-hand. Typically, I’ll have a list of songs that inspire a story I am working on and will play those songs continually while I write.
Although it was unintentional, it is no surprise that my English major is complimented by a minor in music. I realized, as I struggled through college, that I couldn’t write if I couldn’t play. But the overall college experience–in both disciplines–was less fulfilling than I expected. It seems that the study and examination of these Arts that I love was only to be criticized. Professors explain that “criticism” in education is a positive thing. It simply means to scrutinize or look at closely and objectively. It shouldn’t be seen as the negative connotation that the similar term “to criticize” does.
What a syllabus outlines and a professor’s lecture reflects are not often the same thing, however. Criticism was harsh. Criticism was negative. Criticism was using the songs and stories that I grew up with and comparing them to a form the professor liked better. Criticism was class discussion about the negative aspects of every era and then running out of time. The people who were making a living teaching my favorite parts of American society admittedly hated the content. Then they had the audacity to complain about lack of funding for their prestigious brand of education.
I admittedly gave up hope in American education. (Ask my husband about the number of rants he’s had to listen to!) Then yesterday I stumbled across the salvation of my art. Pa’s Fiddle: The Music of America is a PBS documentary detailing the most popular music of 19th century America, set to air in June. The cast singing these beloved oldies are all award-winning American musicians. Imagine my surprise when, amidst joyful research, I realized that it was a project originated by university professors and contributed to by students. Can you imagine meeting Ronnie Milsap or Rodney Atkins, not with a backstage pass, but in a professional capacity as student training?
But beyond restoring my faith in Higher Education, this project also reveals the connection of literature and music that I have depended upon for so long. This is more than preservation of folk music; it is the intersection of the Arts. Little House on the Prairie became a beloved television series after centuries as great Young Adult literature. This documentary, therefore, is a celebration of American history, literature, film and music. In the news clip I’ll post below, Dr. Dale Cockrell, the musicologist professor instigating this project says the following: “Hearing live music every day…must have imprinted itself on Laura Ingalls Wilder’s brain in a way that’s difficult for us to understand today.”
Oh, but I understand. Dr. Cockrell apparently understands. And I’m sure many of you do, as well.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=wizMxLyFoR0[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=wizMxLyFoR0]