Learning Darcy’s songwriting techniques was like having a very rigorous English Literature tutor, given that when Darcy had returned to her bedroom the other night, she’d presented Juliet with three different novels.
“This is the beginning of my process for this song,” she’d stated, both proudly and a little nervously.
Which Juliet understood, because delving into this – into the very root of this process –waspersonal. It was one of the most personal things they did.
She’d taken the novels, taking in the titles and skimming the blurbs. All westerns – one a historical, one a romance, one contemporary literary fiction. “You… read these books in preparation?”
Nik Kosta’s filmwasa sweeping western, so certainly on theme.
Darcy had nodded. “Yeah, I got them right after my viewing. I just thought – it would be a great idea to be able to really situate myself in the right frame of mind.”
Juliet had looked down at the books in her hands. “And you do this when you’re writing songs, in general?”
“Well, I’m usually always reading, and I’m also always writing, so, yes. But also, yes, as in – if I’m struggling to get into the right headspace for writing or if I’m trying to uplevel a piece I’m working on, I’ll try to find books with a similar theme or vibe.”
“Huh.” It made a lot of sense. Like,a lotof sense. So much of Darcy’s music had literary references and allusions. It was what had hooked into Juliet at the beginning of last year, and had refused to ever let her go.
“What doyoudo, to get in the writing mood?” Darcy asked, curiosity lighting her up as she’d shifted closer to Juliet. “If you’re starting something new?”
Juliet hadn’t really ever had to explain her process to anyone, not like this. Not in the stages she was currently in for the soundtrack piece. She felt atypically self-conscious, as she’d answered, “Mostly just make little notes and toy around with chords until something strikes. And when a phrase really sticks, I grab onto it and run. Sometimes, if I’m looking for inspiration, I’ll sit in the music studio downstairs and just play old records.”
Her stomach twisted intensely, her cheeks heating, debating if she wanted to bereallyhonest.
But… as she’d looked at Darcy sitting in her bed, wearing her robe, her blonde hair tousled around her shoulders still, she found that she did. After all, what was she holding back, anymore? She’d already told Darcy about the hell she was in of her own making. She’d signed those contracts herself, might as well have been inked in blood.
So, she’d admitted, “And… sometimes, I sit in the art studio–”
“The door you opened for about two seconds for me to sort-of catch a glimpse of,” Darcy interjected.
“Yes, that one.” No, she hadn’t allowed Darcy toreallylook inside during the tour when she’d arrived. They’d been in a weird place, and Juliet had felt far from being able to be open and honest in the face of Darcy’s agitation. “I like to paint. I’m not good at it,” she quickly tacked on, needing Darcy to know she was self-aware of that fact. “But… it can be very freeing, mentally. Emotionally.”
Maybe not when she was in Darcy-turmoil, but at other times.
Darcy’s lips had tugged into a considering frown, as she’d held her hand out for Juliet to shake. “Okay.”
Apparently, that handshake had meant Juliet was signing up for her literary bootcamp. Because the following day, they’d gotten right down to business.
Juliet had spent the entire day in various places in her house – lounging outside on the hammock, inside on the couch in the den – reading Darcy’s books. And Darcy had spent her day listening to the albums Juliet had plucked from her collection that she felt fit the tone of the film. Darcy had even painted something in her studio, though she wouldn’t show Juliet.
Fair; she understood that. It was hard to be really good at their chosen outlet, and then… not so good at another.
The next day, they’d compared notes that they’d both taken about themes and characters. They’d both talked to Nik about the tone of the song he was looking for – something serious, impactful, emotional.
And they’d spent the following two days getting right down to business. Her music studio had never been so lived-in. It almost looked like it had survived something traumatic, with theway Darcy would tear out pieces from her notebook and arrange them in front of her. “I can only really focus on it all when I can see them all,” she’d explained, darting her eyes over the many pages of notes.
It was all kind of a blur in Juliet’s mind, how quickly it had passed. How she and Darcy had both dialed in, channeling a very specific shared focus on this goal while knowing they had a tight timeline.
After all, Darcy was leaving to start her tour tomorrow. The song still had to be mastered, they could do small revisions and pickups in the coming weeks, but… their time sequestered in Juliet’s house sharing this hivemind about the song was coming to an end far faster than she’d have liked.
Interesting, really, because she’d never shared her home with someone for days on end, before.
“How was it, having a roommate for the week?” Darcy asked her, sipping on the blackberry bourbon lemonade she’d prepared.
Juliet pretended to frown in consideration as she eyed Darcy from across her kitchen island. “I’m giving you five stars, but specifically because you also provided a profoundly wonderful cocktail service.”
Also very true. In their evenings, Juliet would prepare dinner, while Darcy would make whatever cocktail came to Juliet’s mind.
Darcy bowed her head, lifting her glass. “I’ll take it.”
