N is for Noise

I hate waterfalls.  Tiny cascades on babbling books are not a problem, but roaring falls embrace me with crushing pain.  They are a full-body migraine complete with light auras and multi-sensory sensitivity.  The sound leaves me unable to function, unable to escape until someone drags me away.  Black daggers and lingering haze, I lean against a railing or drop to my knees and rock through the pain.  Synethesia can be blissful, percussive massages and silky caresses, but it can also be agony, even in places where others find beauty.

A is for Abyss

This is a piece I composed for piano while in high school. It became the base for my new Mayfly Requiem cover. Check out my books and all of my new covers here.

Abyss is one of my happy synesthesia words. It is a feather drawn lightly across the skin on my arms. Add a syllable and it becomes "abyssal", an ecstatic shiver and a feeling of warmth at the core. I love how the meaning of the word clashes with the feelings generated by it.

Abyss is a deep darkness and a bottomless depth. It is an alien ocean gulf, a world unfathomable by human imagination. It is something so far-reaching that although we might see it projected on a screen, we have difficulty comprehending it. Deep space and the deep ocean, two universal extremes that carry with them the romanticism of the unknown and unknowable. The music of the universe is overwhelming.

The infinite time of the abyss became the inspiration the cosmic Web, the mythology of Malora. When seen from afar, the hierarchy is mystical and unknowable, but as seen through the eyes of the Aulors, it becomes almost annoyingly mundane. We create and obliterate our own abysses through experience. What was once unreachable becomes comprehensible and we wonder why we had so much trouble understanding it to begin with. Science, emotion, and experience collide into a spectacular fireworks display of epiphanic understanding. We are left humbled by the wonders of the abyssal universe and an overwhelming calm settles over us. Natural beauty as the great tranquilizer.  Perfection in chaos and inevitable destruction. Magnificent.

Sing for Inspiration

I was four years old when I first sat at a piano intending to learn how to play.  Almost twenty-six years later, I still play.  I've had to modify which instruments I play due to my movement disorder.  When I lost most of my finger dexterity, I traded piano for percussion.  I currently play with the local civic band and orchestra, specializing in mallet percussion.  I also play clarinet and toured Europe playing bass clarinet with a youth symphony, but like the piano, my skills now suffer due to the myoclonus.  The list of other instruments I have played competently is fairly extensive: trombone (my primary instrument in high school), tuba, baritone, trumpet, oboe, saxophone, tin whistle.  I've dabbled with bass guitar, ukulele, and mandolin, but my tiny hands are clumsy on strings.  I was also a deejay at a free-format radio station for five years in college, so I was exposed to a huge variety of music.

Where does this lead me?  Music is the soul of my writing and my life.  I abhor silence, but true silence is rare.  My synesthesia makes listening to music a full-body experience.  The music of nature is not only satisfying but inspiring.  Like Rhodren, I find waterfalls painful but percussive sounds make for a wonderful massage.  And violins always make me itchy.  More on effects of specific instruments can be found on this old post and perhaps this one as well.  I am inspired not only by individual sounds, but by lyrics and feelings within the music.

The Crystal Lattice was resurrected from a half-completed draft by the Muse song "Take a Bow".  I was listening to my MP3 player at work and had an epiphany.  I grabbed a notebook and began to scrawl notes for the rest of the book.  I had no concrete idea of where the book was going when I originally started it in college, but by the end of that song, I knew exactly what I had to write.  Some specific scenes were inspired by Led Zeppelin songs, but the overall book was prompted by Black Holes and Revelations.

Muse has been one of my chronic inspirations.  Mayfly Requiem was inspired by the song "Sing for Absolution".  I was drinking orange juice and coconut rum one night and that song popped onto my playlist.  I put it on a loop and wrote the first three chapters in one night.  Ironically, I had to put away my work in progress, Absolution, to write Mayfly Requiem.  The inspiration was so powerful and overwhelming that I couldn't ignore it.

Echoes of Oblivion has a massive soundtrack.  Individual characters have their own songs, as do pairs and groups of characters.  Here is a partial list:

Tikaari - Norwegian Wood (Beatles),
Aridani - Serenity (Godsmack), I Dare You to Move (Switchfoot)
Moth - Butterflies and Hurricanes (Muse)
Rhodren - Zephyr Song (RHCP), On Mercury (RHCP)
Rastaban - Megalomania (Muse), Roulette (System of a Down)
The Geophorians - Inner Universe (Yoko Kanno)
Ember - Burn it Down (Alter Bridge)
Lirit - Unintended (Muse)
Sevilen - Panic Prone (Chevelle), Anywhere (Evanescence)
Chaos - Where is Everybody (Nine Inch Nails)
Tempo - Vicarious (Tool)

I my full soundtrack is about nine hours long and has everything from Rachmaninoff to Johnny Cash.  I always had to listen to "Inner Universe" to focus myself first before working on Echoes of Oblivion.  Mayfly Requiem didn't really need a trigger, but I usually used "Sing for Absolution".  As for The Crystal Lattice... Led Zeppelin's "Fool in the Rain" is good to get me started.  I'd better get on that now.

Synesthesia 2

 Just a little bit more on my auditory-tactile synesthesia.  It came up on a message board recently, so I'm mostly just doing a copy-paste and adding some more detail.

I can't remember not feeling sound, and I used to think it was normal until I was in high school and wrote some descriptive poetry that the rest of the class thought was absolutely bizarre.  I had childhood epilepsy, which my neurologists think probably triggered the sensory crossing.  There are some sounds I avoid because they are physically painful for me.  The absolute worst are waterfalls.  We went to Niagra when I was a kid and it was like a full-body migraine.  There are some people I avoid talking to because their voices are like scratches, slaps, or cheesegraters destroying my face.  Words like 'reticulate' and 'purse' are an insult to my nerves.  

Synesthesia does have its upsides.  Some sounds are silky, cottony, or warm.  I have near-perfect pitch because I can feel it when an instrument or voice is out of tune.  I'm a classical percussionist.  Playing my instruments can be a touchless massage.  Piano and harp illicit a similar response  Cellos and basses are wet, like swimming, but violins itch if they start to go up into a more strident range. Plucked strings are a totally different feeling, a tickling tap that travels around my body. Steel guitars are spiders walking over my arms and legs.  Trumpets and piccolos/flutes can leave me with spinal headaches.  I would rather be in the band then listen to one.  Most recorded music doesn't bother me.  Rock concerts are quite a sensory overload, but in a good way.  I usually come away from them refreshed and euphoric.

I have played clarinet on and off since I was seven because we had one in the house.  The sound is hollow, a breath against my skin. Saxophones have a somewhat wet quality, which varies depending on the register. It's actually a tingly, refreshing feeling, like putting a touch of Vick's Vapor Rub on my chest and standing by a humidifier. The lower the range, the warmer it feels, and when it gets toward the soprano sax range, it gets icy, like the feeling you get when you suck on a mint and then take a swig of cold water.  Trombones, baritones, and tubas are a thud in my chest.  Cymbals are a full-body vibration, not much different from sitting by the engine on a small plane.  Oboes and Bassoons are like being breathed on and pinched at the same time.

Synesthesia

To a lot of people, I am some sort of freak.

I feel sound.  Sometimes I taste it, but mostly feel it.  I hear it as well, but my senses are both crossed and parallel.  I have no idea why my senses are like this, but it might be a result of childhood epilepsy.  Auditory-tactile synesthesia.

Music can be physical ecstasy or intense pain.  I have near perfect pitch because it hurts me when a note is out of tune.  That is why I would rather be in the band than listen to it most of the time.  Trumpets and piccolos stab at my nerves.   Marimbas are as close as I can get to a massage without being touched.

I have a hard time with names and words.  I won't go into names because the names I loathe are often the ones others love.  Some words are horrendous, like cheese graters being raked along my face.  Many are a slap, a punch, or just a creeping feeling along my spine.  I avoid many words in my speech, and they are fine when written, but hearing them spoken is a different manner.  I have to deal with it and ignore it, but if I pay attention at all, the feeling is still there.  I am still having sand paper rubbed over my hands and needles shoved into my jaw.  I taste what drain cleaner smells like, taste astringent, chemical, disgusting.

These are some of the words I hate.  The meanings are irrelevant.  Maybe I hate them, maybe they hate me.  Perhaps it is mutual loathing.  My love for the written language does not extend to verbalization, and I find it occasionally distressing.

purse, ma'am, panties, slacks, spew, reticulate, regurgitate, plethora, placid, flaccid, squid, squire, square, squander, squawk, smack, fidget, swab, hubby, pew, caulk, junior, scrumptious, squabble, sixth, bifurcate, slap, appetite, spray, colloid, spleen, flake, flub, perpetuate, squabble

Synesthesia can be entertaining and isn't always unpleasant.  On the opposite side of the spectrum, I have lovely words like miasma, solace, crystalline, gravity, adiabatic, attrition, cinder, beryllium, electric, sonnet, and stellar.  Those trigger more favorable tactile responses.  Silky strokes and soft, cottony dabs.  Minuscule massages along my temples.  Sometimes I'll taste something sweet, not overly, just a small grain of sugar on my tongue or a hint of maple.


Sigh...  This is why we are going to have such a hard time naming our next child.