After her father's tragic passing, Nora Davis is forced behind the scenes, nothing more than a stepping stone for others in their journey to stardom. When an opportunity presents itself, Nora, trapped under her stepmother's heel, takes it as her cha...
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Something about the sound of certain things set Nora's mind in motion. A piece of paper ripped apart. The brush of wind through the trees. Snapping twigs. Clicking pens.
Today's sound was the steady tick-tick-tick of Tessa's car as she turned into the school.
Songs were like a recipe. They required certain elements—lyrics, a melody, emotion—and the rest could be altered to taste.
It was little pieces—sounds, beats—that gave a song it's own unique quality.
Nora collected words—but she also carried a digital recorder around to help collect sounds. Because she was always writing, always working, and always in motion, the recorder served two purposes. One, to collect sounds. Two, for those moments when a melody sneaks into her ear and she didn't have time or resources to add it to sheet music.
Tessa knew about her quirky tendency to gather sounds. Which was why once they parked, her only response to Nora's request was a single raised eyebrow.
With the driver's door open and the left turn signal on, Nora hit the record button on her handheld device and waited a minute. Tick-tick-tick-tick.
She hit the stop button. "Thank you."
Tessa gathered her large leather purse and closed the door. She hit the lock button on her keychain. "You, my dear, are one of a kind."
Most of the sounds she collected never made it into the songs because of the background noises. It was extremely hard to record normal day-to-day sounds without something else in the background. But there was a rather large collection of sounds in her music app that she used for the recorded songs. All she needed was the natural sounds as a reference.
Nora glanced at her phone. Shit. "We have to go."
The two of them booked it to class.
❄❄❄
The afternoon before Ariel's party, Grumpy flicked his wrist and sent Nora's lyrics across the room. "I'm not singing that drivel."
Nora pressed her lips together and counted. And counted. Her frustration wouldn't dissipate. She'd spent her entire week coming up with the melody, those lyrics, and recording the instrumentals for it all so that it would be ready for today's recording...just to have Grumpy throw her sheet music across the room. "You have to sing it."
"I'm not singing some mushy crap. Give it to Tara or Pete. Or Garth."
It's not for Bashful, Dopey, or Sleepy, she thought, it's for you.
Patience, Nora. "I thought we'd try something different this week."
Grumpy sneered. "My fans don't want different. They expect a certain type of music—not emotional bubblegum pop."
