As many of you are aware, when I travel I schmooze with classical
music. Mozart and I have had a regular affair these last few months. Operas,
chamber music and the like, we’ve had our share of brilliant times (in other
words, he being brilliant and I being slack-jawed dumb. I stroked his ego. He
stroked my fool. It worked for us, ok?)
Anyhow, as I tootled around the countryside yesterday I took up with a
new beau… the classical piano solo.
Yes, he is rather broad, all-encompassing in scope it would seem. But
to this former middle school drummer, his foreign nature intrigued me
scandalously.
So, I danced with his man Bach and shared a brief kiss with Beethoven
(who left me wanting more) before the trip sadly ended.
Why do I share this, you may ask? Because I learned something that
translates quite beautifully to the craft of writing…
A harpsichord (the precursor to the piano) made its music by plucking strings. A piano, on the other
hand, hammers the strings.
Surprisingly, the act of plucking limits the sound the strings make. It can
neither be made soft nor loud, for instance. Only hammering allows for this
flexibility.
To a writer, words are very much the strings to our craft. Playing with
them nicely, plucking them gently, is limiting. We must not be afraid to hammer
them sharply, treat them boldly to get the most beauty, the most depth out of
our “strings.”
Yeah, silly of me, I know. But what’s a little silliness amongst
friends?
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
Post-note: My travel blog “Tiptoeing Soul” on WordPress has been
updated with a second post. My search for the best writing nooks in the world
gains shape and form with “The Quirkiness of Place.” Just in case, you can’t get enough of me. *winks* https://tiptoeingsoul.wordpress.com/
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