My Fingers Are Itching
- February 22, 2016
- 2 Comments
The other day a writer friend and I discussed Robert Johnson, the late, great blues player, and his legend of making a deal with the Devil at the Crossroads to play well. Talking about it made my fingers itch to get to the computer keyboard and continue working on a short story I’m writing for an anthology.
But more was needed. I went to YouTube and began playing Johnson’s music, then Muddy Waters, then Professor Longhair and my favorite version of “Everyday I Have the Blues” from his Live on the Queen Mary album. I listened to these pieces over and over and the music grabbed me and spun me as if I listened at the very feet of the musicians in a dark and crowded club, and the words of my story flowed onto the page. It all moved together, my story and the rhythms and notes, and everything engulfed me in a different world that I helped create.
Until my cat loudly meowed, jumped into my lap, and made me scream. By the time he was soothed (and my heart rate returned to normal), I was out of that haze that is so rare and so wonderful.
And maybe that’s a good thing. With a happily purring cat in my lap, I could go over the raw material and smooth it out and tighten it up. My brain had shaken out of its euphoric thrill and I was once again stumped for the next part of the story, but I’ve been on this road before. The music is waiting for me if I need it and conversations are a phone call away.
* Image courtesy of amenic181 at FreeDigitalPhotos.net