I just had a memory.
It's of a time when I was sitting in my room, in my favourite town, in my favourite country. I was listening to my favourite film score; which was never released officially but the composer gave me a sneaky copy. It's probably the thing I listen to more than anything.
I sat there listening to my favourite music in the world looking out on the greatest city in the world -- and I wrote. And wrote, and wrote. Sometimes the music gets right inside of you; it becomes a part of you, and you feel completely at one with the world. I got a phone call from a journalist who was doing a piece on me. Usually those things can make me nervous - what if I say something stupid? But it went perfectly, because I was just so so so in the right frame of everything.
I don't know how it happens. Maybe it's part of your DNA or maybe it's because of some TV show you saw when you were young -- but we all have a spiritual home. A place where we feel ourselves. A place where the writing flows and everything aligns perfectly.
I am excited by the fact that: I'll be going back there soon.
And even if I wasn't, I could close my eyes and listen to this beautiful track. I wish I could write a script that sounds like this music - I wish I could capture me as well as this music does. For now, all I can do, is dream of getting back to my home away from home.
I'm jealous. I feel like I'm still looking for that place where writing just flows and you feel like you finally 'get it'. Maybe I'm distracted too easily, or maybe I'm just making excuses and procrastinating.ReplyDelete
I suspect it's the latter...