A while ago I posted this image. It took me long enough but today is the first installment of author playlist blogs! #1 is Bianca Sommerland. Stay tuned because there's more to come!
This is such a cool freakin'idea! Thanks so much for having me, Sommer! J
Music is a HUGE part of my writing process. Different song fit so perfectly I'll just put them on repeat. Here’s a few of the most listened to while writing Backlash (Winter's Wrath #1)
Break the Cycle: Motionless in White
Angel Eyes: New Years Day (Feat MIW)
Say You'll Haunt Me: Stone Sour
What you Gonna Do?: Hinder
Good Enough: Jussie Smollett
State of my Head: Shinedown
Remember Everything: Five Finger Death Punch
A Tous Le Monde-Megadeth
Since I LOVE Heavy Metal and wanted my metalcore book to have a gritty edge, there had to be a good mix of very powerful, ear-shattering compositions, and deeply emotional tunes. Many of the song resonated with more than one character, which made them even more valuable.
Musicians, like writers, are artists. Which is probably why we often inspire one another! <g>
Strumming the guitar, as though re-familiarizing himself with the instrument, Jesse ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing, Alder.”
“Yeah, I only do it around Malakai. Not for any special reason.” Alder curved a hand around the back of his neck, digging his fingers into the muscles. “Helps when we’re putting all the pieces of the songs together.”
“Does Brave know?”
“No. Everyone leaves us alone when we’re composing.” Alder rolled his shoulders. “Look, don’t make a big deal about this. Brave wants three songs ready to start recording in Detroit. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have been doing this out in the open.”
Jesse inclined his head. “So he’s gotten more lyrics written?”
“Nope. Just the one song. But it’s ready.”
“Cool.” Jesse glanced over at Danica, an apologetic smile on his lips. “I’d play that for you—give you an exclusive preview of the next album, but I’m a little rusty. Mind hearing something I’ve played before so I don’t completely embarrass myself?”
She reached out and patted his knee, giving him a crooked grin. “The two hottest guys on this tour are about to perform for me. I’ll take whatever you give me.”
Crimson spread over the tops of Jesse’s cheeks. “That sounded suggestive as hell.”
Alder looked from Jesse to her, his brow furrowed. “What?”
“Nothing, hot stuff.” Danica took Alder’s hand, lacing their fingers together. One of the things she loved about the man was how clueless he was about his own appeal. “Just the usual. Everyone wants you.”
He snorted, casting an amused look at Jesse, as though he expect his best friend to laugh as well. When Jesse didn’t, he cleared his throat. “All right, how about music? Do you know ‘A Tous Le Monde’?”
“Megadeth? Fuck, of course I know it.” Jesse played a few unfamiliar notes on the guitar. Apparently the right ones, because Alder nodded. “Let’s do this, ‘hot stuff’.”
Both men were blushing a little, and Danica wanted to pat herself on the back. Fine, this didn’t mean anything serious, but they were closer than she’d ever seen them. What happened later today, or tomorrow, didn’t matter. Brave couldn’t use Jesse to lash out at Alder, while carelessly trampling on Jesse’s feelings, if he wasn’t coming between them.
As Jesse played the guitar, and Alder began to sing, the beauty of the music tightened her throat. They were both too damn modest. Jesse had a natural talent and his fingers moved over the strings as if he’d been born to hold that guitar in his hands.
But even that didn’t compare to the sound of Alder’s voice. He didn’t have the immeasurable power Brave possessed, but his tone was deep and soulful, drawing emotion into every word, the raw expression of longing he brought out making goose bumps rise all over her flesh.
Buy Backlash (Winter's Wrath #1) on Amazon: http://www.im-no-angel.com/backlash-winters-wrath-1.html
For other links and the first three chapters of Backlash, check out the book's page: http://www.im-no-angel.com/backlash-winters-wrath-1.html
Bianca Sommerland was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec. When not reading neurotically or writing as though the fate of the world rests on her keyboard, she is either watching hockey or teaching her daughters the beauty of a classic, steel pony while reminiscing about her days in Auto Body Mechanics.
Her time is balanced with utmost care between normal family life, and the internal paranormal realm where her characters reside. For the most part, she succeeds.
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