Before we started this project we thought a lot about creating something about epic writing. As you know we decided to support upcoming composers instead. But creative writing to outstanding music is still a big hobby for us and we do it as often as possible. Within the last months more and more news from the Epic Music section told us that there’s more and more people willing to write about Epic Music. This article shall be the first part of a series of people known or unknown in the Epic Music Scene. It shall also define “epic” not in the mostly used way describing big or bombastic things but all the more it shall stand for hard expressible emotions created by outstanding music and the feelings which led to fantastic, moving and/or again inspiring stories. Epic Writing shall connect fans with their heroes in a new way. If you got some stories in mind or already on your table don’t hesitate contacting us!

We will start today with Clothilde Lebrun, editor-in-chief of Trailer Music News.

Clothilde Lebrun: Editor-in-Chief of Trailer Music News

Clothilde Lebrun uses Trailer Music to get new inspiration for the novel she’s writing on. The excerpt you’re about to read is orginally written in French but Clothilde translated it so that everyone of you guys will be able to read it! So if you find any errors or find it clumsy somehow don’t let it ruin your readflow and don’t be too harsh all you natives out there.

Enjoy reading the first two excerpts of Clothilde Lebrun’s novel which she describes as “a psychological drama, with a bit of science-fiction.” Its working title so far is “DAWN”. They are followed by to other passages and it’s all written in English and French. Everything from here on is written by Clothilde Lebrun herself – including the descriptions. Make also sure to check out her blog full of essays, thoughts and storiesin English and French like the ones below! Enjoy reading and listening now!

« State of Endless Grace » from Immediate Music and « Breathe » from Two Steps From Hell

Two Steps From Hell – Breathe (SkyWorld)

These tracks are not directly connected to the scene described – you could play a far more dramatic and suspenseful piece instead – but they remind me of the state of mind of my two main characters at this particular point of the story, and this guided me when I wrote this chapter.

Here is an extract:

“She turned at the corner of a street, ended up in a large avenue, and started to cross it. During her frantic run, she gave a quick glance over her shoulder, to see if her pursuers were catching up with her. She did not see them; nor did she see the tramway tracks, ahead or her, in the middle of the avenue. She stumbled, fell on the rails, sideways across them. Mr. Byrne, who was following her in a cab, saw her fall from a distance.

A tramway was coming.

Trembling all over, exhausted by the run and the captivity, breathless after her fall, Ellen remained stunned for a few seconds. She lift up her head again, and saw the tramway get nearer, inexorably. She attempted to stand up again, to lean on her arms, but they did not support her anymore. Her body was failing her. Tears slipped. Would her life end this way?

The tram was getting closer and closer.

Perhaps it was better this way… There would be no suffering, no agony, no fears and no tears, no wrenches anymore… She was alone, yes, alone, she had nothing left, no family, no friends, they had taken everything from her, and she was persecuted for something she was not responsible for…

At the corner of the street, Mr. Byrne got out of the motor car and started to run towards her, but he was able to do a few yards only, too weary to go on, and he had to pause to get his breath back. Anxious, he looked all around him, looking for someone who could help him. There were a few passers-by, and their attention had been obviously caught by Ellen and her frenetic run. They had seen her stumble and fall over the rails, far off in the distance, at the top of the avenue. A man, frowning, eventually remarked:
                –  Why doesn’t she stand up again?
This man seemed to be rather young, and strong. Mr. Byrne slipped past two persons and headed for him, short-winded. He caught his arm.
                –  Get her back, he implored. Please, do it.

Read also:  Beauty of the Unpredictable: Seven Days At Joshua Tree

The tram was there, very near.

Ellen watched it come closer, unable to react. Motionless. Time seemed to incredibly draw out, every instant that passed appeared to last an eternity. The tram driver then saw Ellen, frail being lying across the rails, hooted, braked, flashed his lights several times, but he was too close.”

French version:

« Elle tourna au coin d’une rue, se retrouva dans un large avenue, et se mit à la traverser. Dans sa course effrénée, elle jeta un coup d’œil par-dessus son épaule, afin de voir si ses poursuivants la rattrapaient. Elle ne les vit pas ; et elle ne vit pas non plus les rails du tramway, devant elle, au milieu de l’avenue. Elle trébucha, tomba sur les rails, en travers de ceux-ci. Mr Byrne, qui la suivait en taxi, la vit tomber de loin.

Un tramway arrivait.

Toute tremblante, épuisée par la course et par la captivité, le souffle coupé par sa chute, Ellen resta étourdie durant quelques secondes. Elle releva la tête, et vit le tramway approcher, inexorablement. Elle tenta de se relever, de s’appuyer sur ses bras, mais ceux-ci ne la soutenaient plus. Son corps la trahissait. Des larmes lui échappèrent. Etait-ce ainsi que sa vie se finirait ?

Le tram approchait de plus en plus.

Peut-être était-ce mieux ainsi… Il n’y aurait plus de souffrance, plus d’agonie, plus de peurs ni de pleurs, plus de déchirements… Elle était seule, oui, seule, il ne lui restait plus rien, ni famille, ni amis, on lui avait tout pris, et on la persécutait pour quelque chose pour laquelle elle n’était pas responsable…

Au coin de la rue, Mr Byrne descendit de l’automobile et se mit à courir vers elle, mais il ne put faire que quelques mètres, trop fatigué pour poursuivre, et dut marquer une pause pour reprendre son souffle. Pressé, il regarda tout autour de lui, cherchant quelqu’un qui pût l’aider. Il y avait quelques passants, et leur attention avait été visiblement été attirée par Ellen et sa course effrénée. Ils l’avaient vu trébucher et tomber sur les rails, au loin, plus haut dans l’avenue. Un homme, les sourcils froncés, finit par remarquer :
           – Pourquoi ne se relève-t-elle pas ?
Cet homme semblait assez jeune, et fort. Mr Byrne se faufila entre deux personnes et se dirigea vers lui, le souffle court. Il lui attrapa le bras.
            – Récupérez-la, implora-t-il. Je vous en prie, faites-le.

Le tram était là, tout près.

Ellen le regarda avancer, incapable de réagir. Figée. Le temps sembla s’allonger incroyablement, chaque instant qui s’écoulait parut durer une éternité. Le conducteur du tram vit alors Ellen, être frêle allongé en travers des rails, klaxonna, freina, fit des appels de phare, mais il était trop près. »

 

 

“Hymn of the Apocalypse” by Jo Blankenburg (publisher: Position Music)

This dark, desperate, apocalyptic piece helped me write the end of another chapter from this novel and gave me the idea of this passage:

“Thoughts were getting mixed up and confused, clashing in Dawn’s head. “A tempest in a skull”, she thought.

Read also:  Joe Kraemer on composing the music for Comrade Detective

She had the feeling that the sky had fallen. That the world was going backwards. That nothing made sense anymore. That her life, which suddenly seemed utterly petty, was an illogical series of events, a paradox, an insoluble problem. 

She believed that she would go mad. How to accept such a reality? Anger grew in her, quickly, and turned into a rage that she had a lot difficulty suppressing. Never before she had felt such inner violence and conflicts. Her hands were trembling, her breath was halting; her heart seemed to be caught in a vice, and she was in a cold sweat. She wanted to howl with anger and despair, as loud as she could.

Her whole world was falling apart, and a complete chaos was henceforth reigning.”

French version:

“Les pensées s’emmêlaient, se mélangeaient, s’entrechoquaient dans la tête d’Aurore. « Une tempête sous un crâne », songea-telle.

Elle avait le sentiment que le ciel lui était tombé sur la tête. Que le monde tournait à l’envers. Que plus rien n’avait de sens. Que sa vie, qui apparaissait tout d’un coup totalement étriquée, était une suite illogique d’événements, un paradoxe, un problème insoluble.

Elle crut qu’elle allait devenir folle. Comment accepter une telle réalité ? La colère monta en elle, rapidement, et se transforma en une rage qu’elle eut beaucoup de mal à contenir. Jamais elle n’avait ressenti une telle violence et un tel conflit intérieurs. Ses mains tremblaient, sa respiration était saccadée ; son cœur semblait pris dans un étau de fer, et elle avait des sueurs froides. Elle voulait hurler sa colère et son désespoir, du plus fort qu’elle pouvait.

Tout son monde s’effondrait, et un chaos total régnait désormais. »

 

 

« Wyatt’s Torch » and « Worlds Apart » from Immediate Music

These tracks were a source of inspiration for a passage from another fiction, written in 2005.

“They trod the golden sand of the beach, where the silver waves came to die. Rocked by their crystal sound, they remained a moment there, looking at the firmament, and letting their eyes wander around the horizon formed by the line that separated the ocean from the skies.

The day was dawning. A little girl was running on the strand. Her hair, golden like the sand, was streaming in the wind and she was holding pale colored flowers tight in her hands. Her face was glowing and her eyes reflected the light of the stars and her delight to bring the freshly picked flowers to her parents.”

French version:

“Ils foulèrent le sable doré de la plage, sur laquelle venaient mourir les vagues argentées. Bercés par leur son de cristal, ils demeurèrent un moment à contempler le firmament, et perdre leur regard dans l’horizon formé par la ligne qui séparait l’océan des cieux.

Le jour se levait. Une petite fille courait sur la grève. Ses cheveux dorés comme le sable flottaient au vent et elle tenait serrées dans sa main des fleurs de couleur pâle. Son visage était radieux et ses yeux reflétaient la clarté des étoiles et sa joie d’apporter à ses parents les fleurs fraîchement cueillies. »

 

 

This last excerpt isn’t a fiction, but the story of an extraordinary moment I lived during a nurse internship. I decided to put down in writing. I had two cues in mind. The first one was Leap of Faith from Future World Music…:

One of my patients, Mr M., had only few hours left to live. I took some of my free time to spend it with him. He had been incoherent, confused and agitated for the last three weeks, but when I entered his room, he recognized me, and smiled at me. He was calm. It was difficult to understand what he said, for he had trouble articulating and speaking, and his hearing was bad. However, I held his hand, and he held mine as much;  I felt that it reassured him, and he looked at me, a beautiful blue look that lightened up. He got a twinkle in his eyes; they were full of energy, and he looked deeply into mine. I do not know what he read there; but this contact established between us was very moving. The patient smiled at me; a genuine and happy smile, that also conveyed a certain relief, probably brought by my presence.

He talked ; he knew exactly what he wanted : eating a good piece of steak at diner. He would have also really liked to go back to Belgium, his native country, but it was too late. He was lucid, and knew what awaited him. I will never forget his look, and his hand holding mine. A strong look, filled with will power, and also confident. He had faith. He was not afraid of dying. […]

Every time a patient smiles again, it is a great victory. A victory of life against disease and suffering. A victory to the patient, but also to the people who take care of that person; it is a ray of sunshine that truly enlightens the day. Even though Mr M. had only a few hours left to live, to see him smile was an extraordinary moment – he had been incoherent and confused for the last three weeks, but he wasn’t so that evening. Life is full of surprises, to the very end.

Read also:  Composer Christian Henson on what he would tell his five-year-old self

The second track I had in mind while telling this story was Victory of Life, also from Future World Music.

French version:

Ce dernier extrait n’est pas une fiction, mais l’histoire d’un moment extraordinaire que j’ai vécu durant un stage infirmier, et que j’ai décidé de mettre par écrit. J’avais deux morceaux de musique en tête. Le premier était « Leap of Faith » de Future World Music.

 

« Un de mes patients, Mr M., n’avait plus que quelques heures à vivre. Je pris un peu de mon temps libre pour le passer avec lui. Depuis trois semaines, il était confus, incohérent et agité ; mais lorsque j’entrai dans sa chambre, il me reconnut, et me sourit. Il était calme. Il était difficile de comprendre ce qu’il disait car il avait des difficultés à articuler et parler, et il entendait mal. Cependant, je lui tins la main, et il me la tint tout autant ; je sentais que cela le rassurait, et il me regarda, un beau regard bleu qui s’alluma, devint pétillant ; il était rempli d’énergie, et se plongea dans le mien. Je ne sais ce qu’il y lut ; mais ce contact établi entre nous fut très émouvant. Le patient me sourit ; un sourire sincère et heureux, qui traduisait aussi un certain soulagement, probablement apporté par ma présence.

Il me parla ; il savait exactement ce qu’il voulait : manger un bon morceau de bifteck au diner. Il aurait également bien aimé retourner en Belgique, son pays natal, mais il était trop tard. Il était lucide, et savait ce qui l’attendait. Je n’oublierai jamais son regard, et sa main qui tenait la mienne. Un regard fort, empli de volonté, et également confiant. Il ne craignait pas de mourir.[…]

Chaque fois qu’un patient sourit à nouveau, c’est une grande victoire. Une victoire de la vie sur la maladie et la souffrance. Une victoire pour le patient, mais aussi pour les soignants ; c’est un véritable rayon de soleil qui illumine la journée. Même si Mr M. n’avait plus que quelques heures à vivre, le voir sourire à nouveau fut un moment extraordinaire: il avait été incohérent et confus durant trois semaines, mais il ne l’était pas ce soir-là. Jusqu’au bout, la vie est pleine de surprises. »

Le deuxième morceau de musique que j’avais en tête en écrivant ce passage était Victory of Life, également de Future World Music.

These are a few examples. Many other tracks, from various companies and composers, have already inspired me at diverse moments. In addition to this, I also listen to many other music genres, and music is far from being my only source of inspiration – anything can be a source of inspiration and new ideas!

Posted by Peter F. Ebbinghaus

Based in Berlin, Germany. Co-Founder & Editor-in-Chief. Music Producer at Eon Sounds Productions. Founder of Composers for Relief. Keeps Moving.

Leave a Reply

1 Comment on "Epic Writing: Part I – by Clothilde Lebrun (Trailer Music News)"

Notify of
avatar
Sort by:   newest | oldest | most voted