The Aural Art of Writing

In undergrad, I approached the English department much in the way one would approach a decrepit van with “free candy” spray painted on the side, which is to say, not at all. I studied for my BA in music history with single-minded focus that didn’t leave room for electives, especially ones that scared me. The closest I came to creative writing was leaving demented one-paragraph stories on the door of a friend who lived in a different dorm. From her I learned magnificent words like “nudibranch,” and had many a late-night laugh over the bizarre turns of phrase we generated. Despite that, I did learn things in college that have come in handy as a writer.

One of my favorite music professors was fond of reminding her students that music is an aural art. While that may seem obvious, it is easy to get lost in the notes on the page (especially when studying music theory) and forget that sound is the ultimate goal. Similarly, it is easy to get lost in the words on a page and forget that language is also primarily aural. Listening to one’s own prose, and that of others, can be a valuable tool to learn what works and what doesn’t.

When I read out loud, I read as though the words are music. Commas, semicolons, colons, and periods are analogous to rests in music, each with their own duration. Words have different rhythms depending on the number of syllables and where the emphasis falls. These are things that composers take into consideration when setting words to music. They are also things I now take into consideration as a writer.

Many valuable writing lessons come from other areas of life. I’m grateful to my music professors for teaching me to listen.