Musicians, of which I am not

(ignores the horrible grammar of the post title)

One might think, because of Heaven Sent, that I am a musician. Or that I, at least, share the musician sensibility. To me, this means that I should be way into music and listen to it all the time and know the ins and outs of the different genres and such.

Would it suprise you to know that I don’t?

Oh, I know enough. I can tell punk from country and I know some obscure facts about various bands and such. I’ve gone through my time being a screaming teen fan. I played piano once and can read music. But none of that makes me what you’d call a music person. At least I don’t think so. I don’t go to concerts or clubs because I, personally, don’t find them terribly exciting anymore. I just got an iPod and I’m wondering if I’ll ever fill it up. And the weird mix of music I am choosing to put on it amuses me. (No, I’m not telling)

Most of my practical musical “experience” comes from my partner in life. He is a music-phile (is that a term?). Incredibly so. He knows more about music, musicians and the music business than anyone else whom I’ve known.  He plays piano, all manner of guitar and drums that I know of and I don’t put it past him to pick up the rudiments of any other instrument that might be set before him. He gets this far off look in his eyes when he talks about certain bands and if he hears music that moves him, I don’t even attempt to talk to him because the effort would be futile. He spouts off more facts and anecdotes about the music business than my poor little brain can process. In the past ten years, much of what he’s said, however, has stuck in my brain.

But the facts, of course, aren’t enough. I couldn’t have come up with the boys with just those. So here’s where the weird part comes in. Okay, weird to me. I do “get” it. Music. I’ve felt it. I used to go to some concerts. I used to sing. I had my time wanting to be a performer. Even if it was acting, it was close enough that I understand the drive. I’ve known enough musicians to know what drives them and I check in with the honey often enough that I can fill in the details that I don’t know myself.

Now some might read what I’ve written above and do an “aha”. So that’s why there’s not a lot of detail about the actual performances in Heaven Sent! Well, truthfully, yes. I happened to be far more interested in the interpersonal relationships between the performers and their chosen mates than in the precious details of the lifestyle. The books do exist under the heading of erotic romance, after all. But, hopefully, I’ve included enough detail and gotten the mindset of the musicians right so that they come across realistically.

As I’ve said before, I don’t write realism, I write escapism. If I wrote a more likely scenario about a band, they wouldn’t get on nearly as well as the boys in Heaven Sent! ‘Twould be a much darker and less happy feeling story, methinks. Not that that’s bad, per se, but it wasn’t what I was aiming for for the boys.

Written by Jet Mykles

Jet is a writer of sexual fantasy with a firm belief that all men are at least partially gay, that vampires are just people with a liquid diet and shapeshifters live on every block.
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