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.

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I would love to hear your comments.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As A Writer, #37: Relationships and Hero-Worship

After a spate with werewolves and vampires, I began to once again focus on my ongoing character of Sossity Chandler. I had written two stories about her in the last eighteen written and published, so my inclination bent back her way. Ian Fleming had James Bond and W. Somerset Maugham Ashtendon; Laura Ingles Wilder had her Laura, a character based on her own self. There is something attractive about exploring a character through several stories or books. And there is something attractive about the character that makes us want to write about them more than once. With Sossity it was her career as a musician and the things she encounters in her travels and concertizing. Soon the story "Come Together" began to form. Based on a song by John Lennon, it had the refrain "Come together right now over me." This title and that line opened up something that had been a philosophical concern of mine for some time.

That concern was what we might be call hero-worship, though that is not exactly the right phrase to express what I have often wondered about. It is not merely heroes—sports heroes or war heroes—that I see people following, emulating, praising, and venerating. It is also philosophers, writers, critics, religious leaders. And people do not always simply "worship" these people because, as with my original two examples, the person they cherish hit a lot of home runs, three-point shots, or  displayed valor on the battlefield. In the case of religious leaders, they sometime have so many followers who consider them venerable that they become cult leaders like Jim Jones. But there are lot of way one might become infatuated. "Come Together" explores those directions.

Pamela Revard is an old friend of Sossity's. They knew each other in high school and ran track together. Sossity remembers, with amusement, that Pamela always sang the lyrics of songs incorrectly. But she also knew Pamela as a cynic. She always made sarcastic remarks and maintained a rather nihilistic view on life. To quote from the story, to this woman " …everything was absurd, good did not exist, hypocrites governed in every sphere, and everything claiming moral or ethical value amounted to a false hope that only naive, gullible people believed. In Pamela’s view, all ethics were a sham. She maintained, like Nietzsche, that claims of truth were in fact plays to gain power. The world was a jungle, she often remarked, and she was merely one dog intent on eating the others dogs before they effectively devoured her."  Her view is so unrelentingly negative and cynical that Sossity avoids her.

She sees Pamela again and is surprised that she has jettisoned a lot of her cynicism. This is because she has become a follower of the philosopher Wendell Berry.

Wendell Berry is not so much a philosopher as a social critic (and also a poet and novelist) who emphases localism, the idea of that people should not be so nomadic but rather rooted to a given place, that our society should not be such a "throw-away" society, that people should be close to nature, the land, and a locale. These are good ideas, but I've noticed that the followers of Berry (I know a few) do not follow him. They practically worship him. They adore him and his ideas. They never critique his ideas, which, brilliant as they are, have some major flaws, and they generally don't like anyone pointing out his flaws. They venerate him. Their veneration often borders on worship.

Sossity notices that Pamela's cynicism seems to have disappeared, but she also notices that she has become a rather fanatical follower of Berry. When Sossity critiques some of the statements he has made, she gets angry. Sossity has also found out she is having an affair that threatens to break up a family and confronts her about this and about her cynicism. They depart angrily. Soon after, Pamela overdoses and ends up in the hospital. She realizes the truth of what Sossity told her and the two of them are reconciled. Sossity says she will help Pamela to get her life back on track and they reaffirm their friendship.

Sir Jaques, Cynic from As You Like It

I've found that cynics--those of who see life as absurd, or nihilists, who think there are no real values--will venerate someone—one figure they think is a true, genuine soul in a world of hypocrisy. Thus they all but worship this person and will tolerate no criticism of the figure they venerate. Such quasi-religion, however, is a dead-end street, as Pamela finds out. People are flawed. At best, one ends up disappointed at a philosophy; at worst, as in the case with someone like Jim Jones, people end up dead. A healthy skepticism (not the same as cynicism) is necessary to navigate a world where charlatans and hucksters—or well-meaning people who are just wrong—abound.

The story appeared in a now-defunct journal called The Smoking Poet. It does not have an archive, so you can't read the story. This is another one I may have to look for a journal that takes reprints.

For more titles, see my Writer's Page.

For a fascinating story and a great read, get a copy of Mother Hulda, a science fiction tale based on a story by the Brothers Grimm. Lakshmi Parvati is fleeing her powerful, domineering mother, who has wrecked her life and favors her younger sister. When she arrives on Planet Hulda, things begin to drastically change.