Game of Love -- The Music that Influenced the Book

The Power of Music

I've blogged about this before: music is an important element of my writing.

When a new concept is developing, one of the first things I do is build the playlist for the book. As the name suggests, I go through songs in my library that evoke the right image and mood. The song may influence a scene, a chapter, a line of dialogue... sometimes an entire scene.

This is how it starts and by the time I'm about a quarter of the way into writing the book, I have a complete play list of songs. I will share my playlist in a later post. For now, I want to focus on one song that helped set the right tone of loss. In the excerpt below, Gemma has been with Andre's friends at Zuma Beach, near Point Dume. Here is the scene from GAME OF LOVE

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN (Excerpt)

“Love all, but trust a few.”

~William Shakespeare

Gemma allowed herself to relax as more songs came from Dan’s guitar. A sense of melancholy had joined the tent, though. Maybe it was the selection of songs. She doubted it. 

She leaned over to Andre. “This isn’t just a regular day at the beach, is it?” 

He shook his head. “We’re here to remember a friend who passed away just over a year ago. He was Linda’s fiancé.”

Gemma’s face froze, and a combination of grief and shame overwhelmed her. She did not belong here. She needed to say something to Linda, to apologize. Instead Andre spoke. 

“Dan, play ‘Empty Space’.” 

Silence draped the canopy. Andre held Gemma’s hand. They focused on Dan, who after a moment’s hesitation played an airy guitar intro, transporting her somewhere in the heavens. Then he sang: 

Can we walk away, pretending not to see the empty space?

We don’t give reasons why, the gleaming tears flow gently from our eyes.

Miss you so, dear friend―fly, to your cloud, dear friend.

Lamenting what’s too late, we never talk about the tears we cried.

It comes to us all, we’re bound by the time that keeps us here for a while.

And I miss you so, dear friend―fly, to your cloud, dear friend.

When the song ended, Gemma came out of her trance and saw everyone hugging Linda. Red swollen eyes and wet cheeks reshaped the faces of the clan. She wiped her own tears. Maybe she didn’t belong, but she wanted to.

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These were the lyrics of Empty Space written by my brother, Armen Grigorian, nearly 20 years ago. The lyrics are raw and honest. And the melody, haunting.

For the first time, you get to hear the actual song as written and performed by my brother, nearly two decades ago.

It pays off to have creative people in your life ;)

Fight the good fight!

The Ocean

We went to Zuma beach on July 10th. The ocean and I have a special relationship. Apparently, my son is picking up where I left off years earlier. I tried to capture the emotions I felt and the conversation (both verbal and otherwise) I had with my son.

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The Ocean by Ara Grigorian

He transforms when he's in the water.

He is full of life, bursting at the seams with joy. His handsome little tanned face can't contain the size of the smile that wants to explode.

My son is seven. Will turn eight soon... he will be a man before I know it.

It's a beautiful Southern California day. The sun burned through the overcast day around 11 AM. The waves stretch for the heavens, reaching five to seven feet in their attempt to touch the sky. The smell of the suntan lotion, water and sand have an intoxicating effect. Always have. The dissonent sounds of the waves generate a rhythm that very few can discern. Only those who love the beach can appreciate this melody.

I love the ocean. I'm scared of the ocean.

He marches off on his own, ready to duel with the waves that break in front of him. He collects his courage and takes a few steps in. The frigit water turns my feet blue. He doesn't even acknowledge the conditions.

He's my son--I used to be like him. But I grew up. I forgot the magic of escape until I started to write again. I'm grounded in reality--mortgage, career, staff, family, reading and writing.

He levitates above all obstacles and duties. He is free.

He is seven, nearly eight. And I'm losing him. One wave at a time.

I stand behind him, watching his every move. There is a riptide that pulls. There is an undercurrent that charms. There is an ocean that invites. I'm ready to jump in and grab his hand. I am a tense coil, wrapped so tight that I will explode with the slightest of touch.

"Be careful, buddy. Keep your balance."

"I know, Dad. Don't worry."

But I worry. Every day, every second, I worry about my boys. And he in particular. My five year old is happy to play in the safe sand, under the umbrella. He will read one book after another. But my seven year old, jumps into the future without care or concern. He challenges the borders--redefines the borders.

A large wave throws him off balance. He tries to steady his body. He's athletic. He's strong. But he's still a little boy. As he falls, he turns his face towards me. The wave rattles him. He's looks at me, into my eyes, into my heart.

I run and grab his hand. He smiles as he stands. I don't want to let go. But he's ready to move on.

"Did you see that? That was cool," he says.

"It was. But be careful."

He thinks about if for  a second. Then holds my hand again. "let's go deeper, but I'll stand behind you."

"Are you asking me to be your shield?"

"Yeah. Come on, Dad. A good one's coming."

I march forward, he holds my hand, but slides behind me. The wave crashes into me. I'm freezing, coughing out the salty water, trying to blink away the burning sensation in my eyes... but I'm smiling ear-to-ear. Because he's laughing and giggling.

I'll be your shield, buddy. For as long as you let me, I'll be your shield.

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Fight the good fight!