Ever since the first time I dressed my younger brother in drag, not that he was willing or even aware of what I was doing at the time - but hey, drag is drag, I was enthralled. Throughout high school and college I lent many a bra, skirt, and teddy to friends. I even did their makeup. I have had a lot of respect for a man willing to wear a wig and a dress. No matter the reason, just as long as they didn't want to wear my shoes (my feet were small).
Frankly, most of the time, the men who do drag are far prettier than I ever hoped to be. Face it ladies, a lot of those men have legs like race horses and the cellulite fairy doesn't come and visit them, either. Not to mention they spend far and away more time on personal grooming than most of us do. They try harder because they have to and the results show for themselves.
I am winding around to my point, I promise...
Writing, even if it isn't very good, is incredibly lonely work. It is just me and my imaginary friends. Sometimes the plot bunnies get involved, but not always. Just me, ample posterior in chair, fingers on keyboard, trying to listen to the voices in my head.
Some days it works, others not.
The bits I've written the fastest have had soundtracks playing when I wrote. Anyone else fall in love with Alejandro Fernandez and Canta Corazon, or was it just me? Hubby was more than a little pleased when I quit playing that particular track three to four hours per night.
Life does march on and soundtracks need to be updated. Writers change. Characters change. Soundtracks should also change.
A couple of years ago, I became a true fan of RuPaul and RuPaul's Drag Race. The things they go through, the hurdles society makes each of those men jump, astound me. I don't have the courage any of them have to do what they must, what they love. (I guess you could say, "I don't have the balls for that." No kidding.)
As the reining superstar of drag, he is very much Howard Stern, king of all media. He performs, dances, acts, writes, and sings (think anthems set to a techno beat).
Believe it or not, the point of all of this is the music. Very much about empowering himself/the listener, being true to yourself, and getting up and dusting yourself off.
Do I own Glamazon? Yes. Do I own Champion? Yes. Will I buy his next album? Most likely.
These are the current soundtrack to my writing. Reminders that there are always those who won't understand me, might be jealous (though I know not why), and determination to get on with job one.
While I might still enjoy A. Fernandez, and what's not to like, he has been eclipsed by a brighter star. One with long legs, tiny waste, amazing smile, and tenacity.
I guess it's time for me to Work. Can I get an amen up in here?