“And if you can’t stop shakin’, lean back, let it move right through ya.”
Last week, I was having a tough time sitting down to write. (“You Nick? Really? I never would’ve guessed! You’ve only centered every post on that topic.”) But it wasn’t for my usual reasons. I wasn’t especially tired. I wasn’t hungry. No, my problem was that I couldn’t stop dancing.
Sometimes I write in silence. But more often than not, I write while listening to music. But you know how every now and then, a song just grabs you and doesn’t let go? Those times where you hit repeat over and over and over again? That’s what happened to me last week. Panic! At The Disco released “Hallelujah”, which I had just listened to for the first time that afternoon. And, well, I listened to it for the next several hours (and I haven’t listened to much else in the ensuing week; confession: I'm listening to it right now as I write this).
Isn’t there a saying that all actors want to be rock stars? Well, here’s the deal: If you have what it takes to be a rock star, do that. Music has an immediacy that I don’t think anything else has. It can be instantly metabolized into pure joy, without having to even think about it. The ability for a song you’ve never heard to become your favorite song ever within seconds of hitting play—well, I don’t know of anything else that potent.
Music can put an energy into you that wasn’t there a second ago. And it’s not always a positive energy. There are songs that can break your heart before the lyrics even kick in. When a song is good, you can’t help but be moved by it, whether it makes you want to get up and dance, or scroll through Facebook to look at everyone you’ve ever had a crush on and sob silently.
Ready for my inspiring story of the first moment I actually considered writing as a possible thing to do with myself? Was it while a cherished grandparent read me a story that soothed me when I was sick? Nope. Did I write a story for an ailing friend that finally brought a smile to their long suffering face? No, not that one either. The first time I considered writing as a career choice was when I stood in the theater after watching Transformers. You know, the Michael Bay film? The first one, of course. I’m not a monster.
No one expected that movie to be good, or at the very least, not great. But you know what? It was a shit ton of fun. Everyone in that theater was jazzed when it was over. It was one of those incredible times where the second the credits rolled, everyone just burst out talking (the first Iron Man movie hadn’t introduced us to post-credits scenes yet, so there was no reason to wait around). I mean seriously, everyone was excited.
Standing in that theater was the first time I went “Hey, what about writing?” To see a movie make so many people so excited—I mean, who doesn’t want to do that? To create something that fills people with energy, and gets them jumping out of their seats?
Maybe rabid excitement isn’t your thing. How about making something that people can’t help but get lost in conversation or thought over, or something that sends them into a heated debate? To create something that people respond to, that they can’t help but respond to—that’s something incredible.
Really, I just want to be a rock star. I want to write a story as potent as your favorite song. Is that an attainable goal? Absolutely not.
But it’s a hell of a thing to shoot for.