In the beginning was the word. And that word was very heavy, full of life and anguish. The word was existence but also the end of being. The word carried nations and dropped kings with the same move. The word embodied imagination, making us gods over the realms that we produce. So, in the beginning of my creating process, of becoming the god to a world that may exist solely by my observation, I listen to music. It starts from a random rhythm. Either it pumps my pulse up, to meet its tempo, or it drags my heart beat down, to drown me in what it wants to convey. Either way, I go to music before placing finger to keyboard (because there’s no pen to paper nowadays).
I really can’t get into my writing without this overlaying, outside shroud that the harmonies become. I find the right song or playlist that carries the emotion that I need for the piece- whether it’s a raging rock album or soft, liquid dubstep mix. Then I follow the strongest feeling back to its home inside of me (usually in the gut area) and try to pull it out onto the page. I imagine the scenario and everything that is happening in order to mold the experience for everyone to feel. Either that or I know what emotional experience I want to convey already and I use the music as an enhancer to help myself become caught up in that emotion enough to find some kind of words to describe it. I never go in anticipating a masterpiece or a message to the world. I just go in wanting to say what I’m thinking or feeling. This allows me, for the most part, to get out whatever it is. After that, well that’s not the beginning. That’s the rising action and it varies by how I feel. For the most part though, I’m satisfied with myself for bringing this thing into existence.
-Rey Mullennix, Fiction Editor