Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer #44, "And Your Bird Can Sing."

A lot of my writing is inspired by music. The story "And Your Bird Can Sing" is one of these.  

John Lennon and Paul McCartney had an agreement on songwriting:  whoever wrote a song, or most of it, got to sing it, and by this tool you can tell who wrote the different songs the group released. Lennon sang "And Your Bird Can Sing," and its writing bears his mark. I recently read one of those online pages that was titled "10 Things You Never Knew About John Lennon," and much of it pointed out what a jerk he was:  didn't like kids, constantly did drugs, mistreated his first wife—all things I had heard and things that were probably true about him (geniuses are often like that). But one that left me shaking my head in disbelief was a screen that said, "Really, He Wasn't Much of a Songwriter." That part of the page went on to say, Yeah, he wrote a few good ones, but most of the group's really outstanding songs were written by Paul McCartney. To his I had to say—well, I usually omit salty language on my blog, so I won't repeat what I said. I would not consider "Nowhere Man," "Strawberry Fields Forever," "Help," "In My Life," "Norwegian Wood" (which has been recorded by other artists more than any other L/Mc song) and, for that matter, "I Want To Hold Your Hand" mediocre songs!

"And Your Bird Can Sing" 

contains the Lennon wit: 

it has word play (Lennon was a writer who wrote two books—read them, they're very good). He does wordplay in this song:  "You tell me that you've got everything you want and your bird can sing, / But you don't get me—you don't get me." You've got everything you want, but you don't get (you don't understand) me;  you don't get me (you're not going to share my love). And so throughout the song. Lennon wrote more "literature" songs. And the song gave me an idea.

The story is about a musician who gets a request from a drunken customer for "And Your Bird Can Sing." Requests are risky. If you don't know the song, it's an embarrassment to say so from the stage. In this case, the man begins to boo and the audience, for a joke, joins him. The musician—Martin Rollins, an ongoing character of mine who appeared in my first published story, "The Girl Who Knew Nick Drake," and, subsequently, in my first novella, The Gallery, the story "The Space Between" and others—has a girlfriend name Charlotte Carver who likes to shoot dope. They've been over and over the issue, but she will not give it up and he realizes she is on the stuff that night as she watches him. That same night, a former girlfriend who has the nickname "Island" (because she is from Prince Edward's Island, Canada) also shows up.

Char

Martin knows the drill with Char. She likes to get laid when she is high and he goes through the routine. After she has gotten her joy and is asleep, he goes to a coffee house where Island said she would be. It becomes apparent that he never stopped loving Island and wants to renew the relationship. This is made easier when Char is busted for drugs and facing a prison term. He decides she needs to deal with the issue herself. If she turns in her supplier, she will get a lighter sentence, but whatever happens she will be in jail a few years because the city they live in is cracking down on heroin users. Time to dump her, he decides, and take up with Island once more.

Some stories are plot-driven and some are character-driven. This is the latter variety. Not a lot happens. Some writers are very good at this. I once mentioned a story by Japanese writer Haruki Murakami and said it was one of the best I had ever read. My friend asked, "What happens in the story?" My reply:  "Well, this guy goes for a walk. He sees a cat and he talks to a girl." My fiend was a bit puzzled, but, really, not a lot "happens." What goes on in the main character's mind is what is most important. But somehow Murakami makes this so fascinating you can't take your eyes off the page. The interest does not lie with the action but with the character. The same could be said for what I consider one of the best short stories of all time, "Fat," by Raymond Carver. Really, not a lot happens, but the story is powerful. "And Your Bird Can Sing" is like this. It focuses on the reader's apprehension and understanding of the characters more than on the plot, which is thin by design so the action of the story does not detract from the reader's understanding of the characters.

"Island"

Character-driven stories are found in literary fiction more than in genre fiction. When I bring a story that is character-driven to my writer's group, many say it "bored" them. They want gunfights, sex scenes, and high-speed chases. Many of my stories contain these, but it's too bad a lot of readers today do not have an interest in psychomachia (the war of inner feelings) or portrayals of a character's moral and emotional disposition. Still, stories have their own lives and they must be what they must be. If people don't like one, they can read another. It may be they've got everything they want and their birds can sing, but they don't get me—or my story! Their loss.

"And Your Bird Can Sing" appeared in In Stereo Press. There is a journal with that title being published today, but I don't think it's the one I placed that story in because I can't find it in their archive.  You can read about Martin Rollins in "The Girl Who Knew Nick Drake," the story "The Space Between," and the novella The Gallery.

Check out my full-length fantasy novel, The Sorceress of the Northern Seas.

For more titles, see 
my Writer's Page.

I would love to hear your comments.