Saturday, August 29, 2009

"The Perfect Girl" Story....Music and Inspiration


I've blogged and tweeted about my on and off struggle with writer's block and how I lean heavily on music to help jar the wheels in my head to turn and inspire the desire to write. Every night I listen to music. Actually I've got one of my many Ipods playing at any given moment; from the time I get out of bed, on my long commute to and from work, to the last few minutes before I go to bed. Music is an integral part of who I am and I can't imagine life without it.

The other night as I sat alone in the bedroom, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my "story" flash drive. I carry it everywhere I go...I mean EVERYWHERE. Once it even ended up in the washer & dryer because I forgot to take it out of my pocket...talk about panicking. To my extreme relief, it still works.

I cranked up my computer, put my Ipod on shuffle, and plugged in the flash drive. Out of the 7,000 songs, a random mixture of soft music started to play. Almost immediately one of my stories; rejected by an editor and long deserted and untouched for months came to mind...The title is "Her Garden." Unlike my many other stories; this one was actually finished or so I thought. In the back of my mind I knew the reason the story got rejected was because it was "missing" something. Maybe it was too predictable? But then I reasoned, it's a romance. You have two characters meet, they fall in love, live happily ever after...it's a formula that gets used over and over and over again! That's what romance is all about right? Anyways, something wasn't right and I just couldn't put my finger on it then. Normally a rejection letter stings a bit but I knew I had it coming with this one.

As I listened to the music play it was like I experienced a moment of clarity. I read through the story once more and suddenly it felt like both myself and the characters sucked in a fresh new breath of air and "we" came to life once again. I ripped and tore through sentences that weren't crisp and felt that euphoric "in the zone" feeling that I get when I really get into my writing.

I don't know what other writers feel like when they write but the best analogy I can give for what it feels like for me is the rush you feel when you're running or exercising hard...you're huffing and puffing, struggling to breath and then all of a sudden it gets easier...and you experience a sweet endorphin rush. The sensation is so utterly wonderful. When I started working on my story, I felt that rush and suddenly I knew there was renewed promise for my story and the end of a long dry spell of nonwriting.

This is where the music I was listening to comes in. As I listened to some of the songs, it was like they just fit the mood and feeling that I wasn't able to instill in my story before. The more I listened and wrote and edited, the more I came to life and so did my characters in the story. I really think I'm on the right track now because it just feels right and am soooooo happy to feel the creative juices flow once again!!!! I still don't know if the story will get picked up anywhere or published in a book but it doesn't matter. I'm just glad to be writing again.

Here is a playlist of the songs (along with links so you can listen to the music) that helped inspire me to write recently and work on the story again. I've also included an excerpt of the "Her Garden" story again in this posting. When you listen to the songs, keep in mind that the story is an erotic romance...and a very, very sweet one at that. I hope it gives you a general sense of the tone of the story and that you enjoy the music:

Beautiful - Me'Shell Ndegeocello
Be Here now - Ray LaMontagne
Stigmatized - The Calling
A Stranger - A Perfect Circle
Still Lost - Cowboy Junkies
The Story I Heard - Blind Pilot
Still I Can't Be Still - Idina Menzel
Still in Love - Go West
Still I Long For Your Kiss - Lucinda Williams
Still Beautiful - Jessica Simpson


This tale is about serendipity and how life can bestow pleasant but sometimes life changing surprises when you least expect it.

Jamie, the narrator, works for an express delivery service and is on her first day on the job. She makes a stop at the residence of Gabriella, a beautiful young woman who lives alone and has secluded herself from the rest of the world. Being an only child and having lost her parents in an accident not long ago, Gabriella finds peace and solace from her emotional pain in her garden.

On their first encounter, they both experience an eerie sense of familiarity. What could it be?

Jamie returns to visit Gabriella after that embarrassing and awkward first meeting and then finds herself wrapped up in an unexpected but warm erotic spell.


The Perfect Girl - an Excerpt
Written By Dylynn DeSaint


I pulled up to Gabby’s place after work, it was dark outside and the lights in her house were on.

I knocked on her door.

No answer.

Oh no, here we go again.

Dare I walk around to the back again?

I held my breath and walked around the corner of her house. The back yard was dimly lit and had tiny white Christmas lights around the perimeter of the garden. Gabby lay curled up on a large wicker couch reading a book.

This time I didn’t want to surprise her and called out her name. She looked up at me and I could tell she was pleasantly surprised. She gave me a beautiful smile and motioned for me to join her. As I walked toward her, she gazed up at the stars and closed her eyes, as if thanking the gods that a wish came true.

She looked peaceful. When she opened her eyes, I was standing in front of her. She moved aside and asked me to sit next to her. When I sat down our hips and legs touched. I swear there was a current of something, a weird energy that passed between us. I reminded myself that she might be straight and to not interpret anything that she did as anything but platonic; besides, after all, she was in mourning.

Not a word had passed between us when she reached out and touched my face, her soft fingers gently stroking my skin. Tenderly she cupped my chin in her hand and brought her lips to mine. My heart and mind raced frantically but I felt myself returning her kisses.

What the hell was I doing?

Warning signals screamed in my head yet I ignored them.

Her hands continued to stroke my face. Pulling me closer, she pressed her soft lips into mine and kissed me with an urgency that was passionate and bold, then inched her way down my neck, nipping at the tender flesh. I could feel myself melting against her body and was keenly aware of the unmistakable heat of new passion spreading itself like a bonfire between my legs.

I brought her face back to mine and kissed her deeply, sliding my tongue against hers. Softly, she bit my lower lip and let out a sigh when my breasts moved against hers.

She pulled me downward and slowly opened her legs, allowing my leg to rest between them. With her body beneath me, she began to move sensuously against my thigh, grinding her hips upward. Her panties, soaked with desire, tugged at my skin and stirred me to return her thrusts.

Wanting to feel the heat of bare sex against my skin, I reached down and eased her panties off, allowing her to kick them aside. She pulled me back down over her and slowly we merged, our bodies intertwining into one.

Bucking beneath me and whimpering softly, she buried her face into the warmth and softness of my neck while boring her nails roughly into my back. I groaned loudly, my own body aching for sexual redemption. Soon, she began to tremble and I knew the delicious friction of her clit on my skin would cause her to explode at any minute. Suddenly, I felt her shudder and thrash violently against me.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her still, attempting to stall her climax and prolong her pleasure.

“Hold on baby….not yet,” I whispered to her, “don’t come yet.”

“I...I don’t know if I can keep myself from…” she cried, gasping for air and unable to control the powerful orgasm cascading throughout her body.

© August 10, 2008 Dylynn DeSaint


No part or portion may be republished or reprinted in electronic or any other format, in any language, translation, or version, without express permission from the author, except brief passages which may be quoted in a review.