Waiting for my muse to strike

[James Peck]

James enjoyed the warm New Zealand sun that poured down on to his lightly tanned skin. James wasn’t one to really get out an awful lot as he spent most of this time cooped up inside his house just doing some homework that was set by his tutor – who also happened to be his mother. Some would find it strange that his mother was his tutor but to be honest he had grown up with it and was used to it at his age. Also it wasn’t like he was able to skip classes or anything, not only because he lifted under the same roof as her but because she was nothing like a mother was when it came to tutoring. Between the set school hours they had she was first and foremost his tutor, not his mother. In a way he preferred this as it didn’t leave for any form of awkwardness when she was teaching him; he had grown up with that disciplinary so he was very much used to it by now. The only reason James wasn’t ‘in class’ today was because his mother had finished for the term – having just sat his last exam. He decided to get out of the house for a while as he gave his mother peace and quiet to mark his exam papers meaning he would have his grades by dinner time – he bet a lot of students were able to get their exam results that quickly instead of having to wait what seemed like ages for them.

As he walked through Brightstone he decided to take a small break in the park under one of the scheduled trees so he could sit in the shaded area. When James did go out of the house there was one thing he was never seen without; his guitar. From a young age James had been playing guitar and in his teenage years he had started to develop his singing and song writing skills. Granted he wasn’t the best at them yet he liked to mess around with a lot of the cords and different tempos. He had found a good comfort sound in slightly more pop-ish and slow/romantic songs but he did try to deviate from them from time to time. Sitting down under the large oak tree he brought his guitar round to rest on his legs and put his pic in his mouth as he fiddled about with the notes he had been writing down the night before when he couldn’t be bothered studying for his test anymore. Setting his notebook down in front of him again he began to strum his guitar lightly and hummed along with the notes as he tried to think of words to go with them.

 

[Charlotte Bouvier]

Charlotte was sick of reading books she had already read. She wanted to go to school, learn new things, find new books, but she was stuck here. She was sick of having nothing to do, and her muse was suffocating in the tiny room. Her artist's soul wanted inspiration, freedom, and she wasn't going to get that in her dingy little room. Feeling a bit reckless and brave, Charlotte decided to go out, and so quickly grabbed her bag and her (slightly battered) notebook, slipping her notebook and muggle pen into her bag as she ran out the door.Once outside, Charlotte was slightly shocked by the warm, bright sunshine. She was used to December meaning winter and snow, but this New Zealand sun was glorious. It warmed her pale skin and made her golden hair look like a halo around her head.

Feeling more happy and free than she had for a while, Charlotte headed to a nearby park, hoping to find a nice spot where she could do some more writing. Suddenly, a soft breeze made Charlotte's hair stream behind her and made her skirt rustle. The breeze carried the sound of music to Charlotte's ears. Looking around, she saw a boy about her age sitting under a tree with a guitar on his lap. He must be the one making music. For a moment, Charlotte just stood there and let the music transport her to a happier time, when her mother was alive. Lenora had loved music and often played songs on the piano, while Charlotte would listen. Sometimes, when Lenora heard or played one of her favourite songs, she would get Charlotte to dance with her, which was how Charlotte first learned to dance. Her mother taught her so many things - dance, poetry, reading...as another breeze blew the other way, blocking out the sound of the music, Charlotte's memories faded. Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, Charlotte walked over to the boy. She didn't know quite why - it was like magnetism, like her legs no longer listened to her (usually sensible) brain. Sitting down near the boy, Charlotte got out her notebook and pen and, feeling brave, quickly wrote, "That song sounds really good. Does it have words?" Feeling proud of her courage, Charlotte leaned over and put her notebook on the boy's lap, so he could read it.

 

[James Peck]

James continued to strum on his guitar; this was the easy part of being a musician – in his opinion at least. Music came to him so easily, as if it just spoke to him. Although when it came to putting lyrics to his songs he always drew up a blank. In his lifetime he had only wrote maybe two songs and they were when he was much younger and the words were silly and just about rhymed without making sense. Then again he was maybe five or six, barely knew many words and to be fair his songs sounded more like cheesy jingles for adverts. Needless to say, any evidence of those songs had disappeared and never to be seen or heard by a living soul again; apart from James because he, unfortunately, couldn’t forget them no matter how hard he had tried too in the past.

With a frustrated sigh he reached over for his note book and began to tap the pencil on it to the beat of the tune as he waited for his muse to just hit him so he could come up with some words. He supposed that he had to at least come up with a title of the song first so he could go off that, but he was getting nothing. He couldn’t understand just how easy it was for him to come up with music and not have anywhere to go with in regards to lyrics. He knew that some people found certain aspects of making music as their strengths which others found their weaknesses. Then visa versa. Really what he needed was someone that was good at lyrics and weak at music, the perfect partnership. James knew that if his dream of becoming a famous musician was very going to become a reality then he would have to either work on his lyrics or find someone who could write his songs for him – there were people that did it so all he had to do was find them. With the pencil to paper he started to scribble on the side of the page, hoping that the words would just jump at him. Although something strange happened, words did appear in front of him, albeit they weren’t his words. Looking up he say a blonde haired girl beside him, he looked at her with a bit of confusion and blinked a few times before looking down at the notebook that was sitting on his lap. He read the words and first of all wondered why the girl hadn’t just asked him but just shrugged it off and answered, “Thanks but no words as of yet. I suck at finding words to go with my songs.” Admittedly it was his weaker point and he didn’t know how he could work on it.

 

[Charlotte Bouvier]

Charlotte was touched by the boy's struggle to come up with words, although she was impressed that he could write the music part. It was funny, she mused, because she wasn't musical, but words came easily to her - apart from the dreaded writer's block. Charlotte struggled with her shy, scaredy-cat side. She wanted to help 'Music Boy' (as she'd come to call him in her head) - after all, words were her forte. But she was worried that she would seem pretentious, or that he would look at her oddly, or that she wouldn't be able to think of anything. After struggling with her bashfulness for a moment, Charlotte plucked her notebook back and quickly wrote before her nerve failed her, "Maybe I could help. I don't know the first thing about music, but I'm good with words. I've written some poetry, so if you tell me what type of song it is, maybe I could think of something."

Charlotte placed her notebook between her and Music Boy so that he could read as she wrote, and then quickly added, "I'm Charlotte, by the way. Charlotte Bouvier. What's your name?" Charlotte hoped that he wouldn't be like others had, and didn't tease her, or say something condescending and then leave. She wanted to help him with his song, and...well...what girl doesn't want to hang out with a cute boy? Because he was rather handsome, she mused, with his pale blue, crystal clear eyes and his brown, windswept hair. Suddenly, she had a thought. What if he was like so many others, and assumed that she was deaf or dumb or something? True, she had just responded to something he said, but deaf people could lip read. She was a little embarrassed, but, as she sternly reminded herself, it was something she had promised to herself, and if all her father's threats and punishment hadn't been enough to get her to talk, why should this boy? Obstinately, Charlotte looked at the green canopy above her and the sapphire sky above that, not allowing herself to give in to her urge to look at James. 'Wait until he talks,' she told herself. 'Wait until you have a reason to look, and for heaven's sake, don't let yourself be attracted to him!'

 

[James Peck]

James didn’t know why the girl seemed to just come over to him and question him about his music. He never really got out much so having random people coming up and talking to him was not something that he was used too but he took it for what it was worth. James didn’t have many friends so having a conversation with a random person could be a good start because as far as he knew that was how friendships started. He looked down at her note book which was still in his lap and noticed that it seemed to be wrote in a lot. He wondered if she talked to people like this all of the time like the people who couldn’t talk or was this a one off sort of thing and she just wrote a lot. As he looked at the notebook he saw it been snatched away from its seating place on his lap. He watched as the girl wrote down whatever it was she had to say. It was strange to have a conversation with someone like this but James was just glad of the company. When the book was put down on the ground again he looked down to see what it said. Although when he was only three of four words in he saw it getting snatched away again. He chuckled slightly at this and watched the girl as she wrote. James was very observant, whereas he would be able to read a person pretty well just how they positioned themselves and other tiny things that not many noticed. James didn’t really know what to think of this girl just yet, then again he had just met her so he couldn’t tell yet.

When the pad was set down again he read what she had to say this time. Reading the first part he looked up at her, she was looking away from him but he could tell that she seemed like a genuinely nice person so maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad deal. He would get some help with his lyrics and Charlotte would be able to put her talent to work – well what she called a talent, he had yet to really see how good she was. “Alright Charlotte, let’s see what you’ve got.” he said with a smile. “I’m James, James Peck. Nice to meet you.” he said as he reached his across his guitar to shake hands with Charlotte. “Now I can’t promise this will be great but we’ll see what happens. I tend to go more for the slow, soulful, acoustic kind of songs, if that helps at all.” he said as he started to strum on his guitar again, humming along to the tune. It had a soft air, and was sort of slow and sweet but it definitely needed lyrics.

Out of Character:

I was going off this but you can work with it any way you want!