Inappropriate Music

Yesterday I went climbing for the first time in months. As I was halfway up the artificial wall, I became aware that I was singing a song under my breath. What was it? 'You Don't Need a Licence For That' by George Formby. Perhaps not the best motivational song for climbing, particularly the lines stuck on repeat in my head:

"You need a licence whatever you do,
One or two things they've exempted, it's true,
Lumbago, the gout, or a touch of the flu,
You don't need a licence for that."


Is it any wonder I was disconcerted? I've blogged previously that I've got through climbing sessions before by singing songs from Sweeney Todd under my breath, but that was a choice. I picked something angry that would fire me up. Maybe George Formby made me angry, although it was more in the 'cut the rope now' manner. He's just so damn catchy!

Inappropriate music disturbs me when I'm writing as well. I need some music on in the background but, if I'm into some serious editing, I need something bland and not the musical showstoppers that I usually favour. I have two playlists that I really shouldn't listen to while I'm writing - 'Loved Songs' which has about a thousand songs that have received fifteen plays or more on iTunes and 'Musical Favs Etc' which is exactly what it says on the tin and has over seven hundred songs on it. If I let those loose during 'work time' I invariably end up singing along.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who suffers with the compulsion to play their favourite music as opposed to the music they can work to. Although I may be one of the few who doesn't mind George Formby - when I'm not climbing walls.

Climbing Back to Progress

The other week I went indoor climbing for the first time in six months. Prior to that, I hadn't been for about eight months. So I was somewhat out of practice. Add to that the fact that my fear heights usually consumes me each time I manage to get a few feet off the floor and you'll understand why I was apprehensive. However, after conquering my first (very high) wall by nervously singing songs from Sweeney Todd under my breath, I did something I'd never done before - literally threw myself into climbing until everything hurt and I was dangling precariously on a rope while reaching for a hold I could never get. Previously, I wouldn't go for anything remotely out of reach, my fear of slipping and bashing myself was too vivid. But I actually did slip and bruise my knee quite badly. The worst sort of happened and I was still climbing.

This past weekend I opened up a WIP I abandoned a few weeks ago when my PhD schedule became all-consuming. I'd left it at around 28,000 words. I'd finished Part One (of three) and faltered as I couldn't fathom how to progress. Taking a leaf out of climber-me's book, I just started writing. I knew my characters pretty well; I had a vague idea of where I wanted to go - why shouldn't I write? Well, on Saturday I added 3,500 to my word count and at least another 1,000 on Sunday. By forcing myself to begin writing, much as I forced myself to begin climbing, I found that I soon got into the swing of it.

One final note: after climbing I was in agony for two days. My forearms burned to the extent that reading a book was painful. When I awoke one morning I thought I was fine, then I moved and pretty much started crying. I've experienced something similar with the writing: by devoting my weekend to this novel I woke up on Monday utterly drained and lacking a weekend break. My head feels like sawdust and, I suspect, my PhD work thus far is demonstrating that. Still, progress in one area is better than progress in none...