2013 was the year of emptiness.
Every writer will tell you that Writer’s Block is a very real phenomenon, one that often strikes with the absolute worst timing possible. Every artist will tell you that they’ve hit the proverbial wall now and again, that the well runs dry. I’ve endured a few periods of creative stagnancy. When they strike, my solution is one that applies to most forms of creation: go out and be inspired. Fill up the well, so to speak.
2013 was different. For the first time, my passion for all art had died out.
Music didn’t resonate with me, which is striking, since I began attending concerts in utero and credit music with literally saving my life. Everything I picked up to read just fell a little flat somehow. I lost interest in films. The list goes on. It wasn’t depression (been there, done that). It was a complete disconnect, and neither my longstanding musical loves nor the latest crop of releases could cure it.
And then, July Talk happened, just as 2014 arrived.
I’m often slow to the party on new music, which may seem weird, given my music blogger background. It’s this quirk of mine that extends to books and movies: if a lot of people are talking about something, I avoid it out of fear of disliking it coupled with reflexive annoyance via overkill. For example, I didn’t read the Harry Potter books until the 7th movie came out. So I hesitated on July Talk, despite being fascinated with their black and white aesthetic and the vocal contrasts described in the media. I didn’t want to dislike them. And given my “everything is blah” funk, I was afraid of just that.
One day, I had a random “Fuck it!” sort of moment. I happened upon their video for “The Garden” and hit play. When it stopped, I hit play again. And then, I fell down a YouTube rabbit hole for a good hour. When I surfaced, I bought their album.
Their passion was contagious. I blasted their music frequently at work. I blasted it in the car, and was grateful my metal-loving spouse enjoyed them as much as I did. We went to a show of theirs and realized that seeing July Talk live was even better. Another show happened soon after. And yeah, I fangirled. But how could I not?
Suddenly, art came alive again. I came alive again.
Nine months after this awakening, I looked at the upcoming NaNoWriMo and remembered how participating previously had conquered a bad case of Writer’s Block (the product was my novel Collide). I found notes made some time ago for a “possible Change of Season sequel”. I looked at a writer friend, felt her passion for her project and thought, “Damn, I miss creation!”
I went for it, and finished that first draft in November.
Make no mistake: Waiting For A Star To Fall would not exist without the music of July Talk. Their clear appreciation of how critical the audience-artist energy exchange is only fuels their growing success. It also informs me as an artist. I looked to those asking for more of Autumn, Andrew, Veronica and Evan and decided that as long as the audience brings their energy, I cannot help but bring mine as the creator.
In Star, Veronica is featured in a show that puts a feminist spin on the Bible. When looking for a name for this fictional Broadway production, the answer was obvious: it was waiting in a song of dangerous, unhealthy attraction. The song that began the journey that brought the book to life.
(Peter, Leah, Ian, Josh, Danny: thank you.)
I went walking in the garden
I was tripping on snakes
And I ain’t asking for your lovin’
I’m just asking what your love is gonna take…