Bouvre

I was a few notes in and sold. I love their effective use of piano pedals/accenting.

And of course, Jerry Garcia + David Grisman knew the loveliness of the genre:

This is lyrically a hard-hitter, and I admire Townes Van Zandt's writing style so much. Basically the Leonard Cohen of folk/country. Time was like water, but I was the sea. I didn't notice it passing. Except for the turning of night into day, and the turning of day into cursing.

For me, this song is a staple of family reunion campfire songs. I think it's because so many of us live in/near Seattle. Whenever I sing it at family reunions, I change the part about a man needing a woman I always add, "But not really" and my family, knowing I'm gay, gets a kick out of it. But yeah, I love this song with all my heart.

This is pretty much a better description of the Jazz Vibes playlist I've got going. <3

I write to music. But only certain types of music that I don't otherwise listen to. Currently I'm digging Spotify's jazz section, specifically the Chick Corea playlist and Jazz Vibes playlist, the latter one being more hip-hop infused jazz. Keeps me focused, even if it's not the music I imagine to fit tonally with the work. What about y'all?

This ^ And it would be lovely to see more writing!

Writing is a degrading and frustrating process, but sometimes you come out of that degradation and frustration with that One Good Sentence or that One Good Moment. Share some of your favorites. Or the lines you're willing to share. From "The Incubus": When he invites you into his dorm, you aren’t surprised to find it a single room with vertical blinds shut tight. He closes the door behind him and clicks a switch. Small pumpkin lights bordering the high corners of his walls, glowing warmly like house lights in the distance. Terry’s belt tongue clinks against the buckle. He kicks his shoes off and they tumble past you and into the desk. From my thesis/novel-in-progress: “Lots of people are on Mark Prior’s dick,” she exclaimed over the sound of organ fanfare. “But if he ain’t eating my pussy I’m going to wait on him to actually help us win the World Series.”

I know. <3

Are you sure that ID wasn't just a prop?

ID photographer: Okay, take your glasses off! Me: *Thinking about how my eye does its best impression of Jean-Paul Sartre's eye whenever my glasses are off* Me: Guess I'll die.

If he's always working out, he shouldn't be sore, unless he's always pushing himself way too far, in which case somebody get him a PT who knows what the fuck they're doing.

I learned my ice-queen-ness from a bottle of tequila that had been sitting in July sunlight for hours that my stepdad served to me when I was eleven to discourage me from liking to drink. I learned the best way to spite him was to become a borderline alcoholic anyway.

I love you (and everybody else) too!

I saw your icon and for a moment felt like, "Is this a NitW quote? It could be."

How can it be too cold for ice cream when I'm such an ice queen?

Ellie

These two genres may not be my most listened-to, but they do have a lot of gems, and deserve some love now and then. Post your favorites here!

Definitely underrated, or at the very least underrepresented in terms of how much good music he's put out. Subsequently, thanks for reminding me to add Night Time In The Switching Yard to my work playlist.

Summer: road cycling For winter, the biathlon.

To build on this, I think this submission has one of the most impressive sentences in the competition. "It was a trick she had picked up when she was thirteen, though she wished she knew about it when she was nine" has such a terse and poignant quality to the kind of moment in a character's life that writers tend to over-dramatize, over-emphasize, and subsequently ruin. I'm a really hard fucking sell on any sort of fiction documenting trauma, and to elaborate, I don't think other moments in the story work for me regarding that element, but the labor this sentence does (mostly) on its own is pretty impressive, and something I hope you'll continue to sharpen. Keep your eye out for writers who write good sentences, read poetry, listen carefully, sit alone listening to famed songwriters -- any number of things.

Where did my hands go?

What the fuck is a question?

It's a thorough analysis, and valid, but it's an analysis of what things represent, and less focused on how things are working/developing in relation to the character, who (as I see it) seems to be missing the emotional drive required for readers to be invested in her actions. I'm particularly interested in the story's divide between pursuing the straightforward hero's journey, and the postmodern flourish in the second half. Both are fascinating approaches to essentially the same story, but their mechanics and aesthetics are so often conflicting on a craft level. I think that's the most ambitious part of your story, the most interesting, and yet the greatest challenge.