I began my current
WIP with the idea that it would be completely unconnected to my Home trilogy,
but then my hero wanted to serenade my heroine. Drew’s a very bad singer, but
if he has to sing to Briallen to convince her he can be romantic, he’s willing
to do so. My problem was that I needed a song from which I could borrow lines.
I’m no lawyer, but I’m fairly certain quoting from a published song would
violate copyright laws. So I decided to have Drew sing a Max Marshall song. For
those who don’t know, Max is the hero of The Long Way Home, my first, still
unpublished book, and he’s a successful singer/songwriter. I wrote lyrics for
several Max songs when I was working on that book. Now I’m bringing Max, or at
least his songs, into my new book.
I was so pleased
with the way the serenade scene worked that I used another of Max’s songs in a
later scene for the secondary romance. The heroine’s sister realizes she’s fallen
in love with a most unlikely man when she hears him singing his daughter to
sleep. Sentimentalist that I am, I got a little teary-eyed writing that scene.
Drew sings a stanza
and chorus from Max’s “Georgia Belle,” changing the state to suit his purpose.
Drew took a quick
swallow from the long neck in his hand and surveyed the scene. Check on the
moonlight. Check on the flowers. He hesitated. Make that half a check on the flowers.
He wasn’t sure how romantic Bri would find the orange daisies and hot pink
carnations, but they were the best he could do at midnight on a Saturday. Hell, he’d forgotten he needed something to
toss at—at the French doors, no windows either. Were windows more romantic than
doors? How could a mere man know the answer to that question? He stumbled over
a chair as he stepped onto the patio. No need for a rock now, he thought, as
light poured through the drapes. Here
goes.
I have found all I was seeking;
I see the answers in your eyes.
You’re the key that I’ve been missing;
you’re my hope now realized.
“Are you
drunk?”
Not
exactly the response he was hoping for. “I’m being romantic,” he said.
“Idiot,
you’re going to wake up Rica and the kids.” Bri stepped outside the door and
took a step toward him.
He
grinned at the sight of her. With her hair sticking up in every direction and her
long legs bare beneath the tee shirt she wore, she wasn’t any closer to a
princess than he was to a courtier. She still took his breath away. He thrust
the flowers at her, took a breath, and continued his song.
I’m a rhymer without reason
whose words can never tell
how life was changed one summer season
by my lovely Bama belle.
“Max
Marshall would sue you if he heard you mutilating his song.”
He
ignored her.
You are a fever in my blood.
You are the music in my soul.
You are everything that’s good,
and your love has made me whole.
You are a fever in my blood.
You are the music in my soul.
You are everything that’s good,
and your love has made me whole.
“Drew,
hush! I’m serious. You can’t get drunk and come caterwauling around here.”
He
lowered his voice on the final lines.
All my words can never tell
how I love you, Bama belle.
She
stepped closer, placing her fingers against his lips. “No more,” she whispered,
laughter just beneath the surface.
“My
silence for a kiss, my lady.” He spoke against her fingers.
“One
kiss, idiot,” she said and stepped into his arms.
Thad sings for his
young daughter a portion of “Remember,” a song Max wrote for his daughter.
Rica sent a quick
prayer that Thad had been able to calm Erin. She paused at the door, her heart
catching as she heard Thad singing to his child.
It was just yesterday I held you tight
And drove the scary monsters from your night,
And I was a hero in your sight.
I remember . . .
I remember . . .
“I love you, baby,”
he whispered.
Rica felt the tears
on her face. This tough guy with his marshmallow heart was still a hero. In Erin’s
eyes—and in hers. Now to convince him of that.
So how do you think
the lyrics of Max Marshall fit in these scenes? Are you bothered when fictional
worlds are integrated in some way? I’m still in the first draft stage, so these
scenes may never be stitched into later drafts.
4 comments:
Please don't consign these scenes to the cutting room floor. They're wonderful! I can't tell you how much I want to read your books one day!
Btw, have you ever considered songwriting, Janga? You're good!
Wow, Janga. Like PJ, I really can't wait to read these books.
I think Max's lyrics are awesome. Very appropriate to each scene. I kind of figured you'd be good at songwriting since poetry is your forte. What are songs but poems put to music?!
Keep it up, Janga. You'll join the published one of these days.
Thanks, PJ. I hope they will be available some day. Thanks, too, for the compliment on my "songwriting." I wrote poetry before I ever tried fiction, so I had fun writing the lyrics. But I'd be hopeless with the music.
Thanks, Irish. I'm glad you like Max's songs and my scenes. I appreciate your confidence in me.
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