Post by camila calderón on Jan 2, 2021 2:56:11 GMT -7
September 2025
Auguste seemed to shrug off how realistic the sound of the song had shaped up to be already, though Camila supposed that she couldn't blame him. He had been in the industry for much longer than she had, so it wasn't as novel to him. Besides, he was in a relationship with Sienna—and Camila never in a million years would have jeopardized that—and could draw inspiration from that more easily than Camila could from her own life experiences.
He stopped playing the guitar to speak to her then, explaining that he had had the quill write down the lyrics that she had just sung—as she had sung them. If she wanted, he offered, they could go over it a few times to see how it felt, and then they could do some fine-tuning of the song.
The fact that he had thought to have the quill write down what she was singing in the moment was positively genius, thought Camila, watching as Auguste looked over his own lyrics. "In a way," he explained to her once he was looking at her again, "it's always real to me. Songs are expression of feelings we have and a mutual understanding of them." Even though they weren't in love with each other, Auguste continued, "they had both seen and felt it." He added that he always thought about Sienna when he was singing a love song, which Camila had to smile about; it was too cute not to, though she listened to the rest of what he had to say. It was sentimental, she thought, the way that he talked about wanting everyone to experience a feeling of love like that.
Camila understood and nodded. She wasn't in love with anyone, but that didn't mean that she was incapable of understanding love itself, and she knew that she could channel that sort of emotion into even her more manufactured lyrics.
Once Auguste had drawn a thick line through some of what he'd written, he handed the sheet of lyrics off to her and picked up the guitar again. He gave her more instructions, mentioning that they would go from the top and then cycle back through it so that she could try some variations on what she had already established. The quill, meanwhile, would keep track for them, so they could try what felt right to them without the added hassle.
"Perfect," Camila confirmed to him quickly, shutting up as soon as Auguste began to strum the guitar again.
She began to sing again when her lyrics came in, feeling everything else evaporate except for the music. That was how she wanted songwriting to feel all the time, without the pressure of getting things "right". It wasn't about the money for her, even if there were plenty of people standing behind her who cared about their bottom lines. Her heart was in the music itself, in singing and not caring. That wasn't to say that she neglected her technique; she was still careful not to do anything that would sound awful or amateurish or that—worse—would do something to damage her voice, but a sense of freedom was what propelled Camila forward. She gave her all to it because she wanted it to turn out well, and she smiled gently as the song (at least as they had it at that point) came to a close.
Wondering if he had picked up on anything that hadn't been apparent to her as they were singing, Camila looked to Auguste. "Good?" she asked him, though she didn't mind running through it a few more times.
@auguste
OOC: I'm thinking we can bring this to an end soon?
He stopped playing the guitar to speak to her then, explaining that he had had the quill write down the lyrics that she had just sung—as she had sung them. If she wanted, he offered, they could go over it a few times to see how it felt, and then they could do some fine-tuning of the song.
The fact that he had thought to have the quill write down what she was singing in the moment was positively genius, thought Camila, watching as Auguste looked over his own lyrics. "In a way," he explained to her once he was looking at her again, "it's always real to me. Songs are expression of feelings we have and a mutual understanding of them." Even though they weren't in love with each other, Auguste continued, "they had both seen and felt it." He added that he always thought about Sienna when he was singing a love song, which Camila had to smile about; it was too cute not to, though she listened to the rest of what he had to say. It was sentimental, she thought, the way that he talked about wanting everyone to experience a feeling of love like that.
Camila understood and nodded. She wasn't in love with anyone, but that didn't mean that she was incapable of understanding love itself, and she knew that she could channel that sort of emotion into even her more manufactured lyrics.
Once Auguste had drawn a thick line through some of what he'd written, he handed the sheet of lyrics off to her and picked up the guitar again. He gave her more instructions, mentioning that they would go from the top and then cycle back through it so that she could try some variations on what she had already established. The quill, meanwhile, would keep track for them, so they could try what felt right to them without the added hassle.
"Perfect," Camila confirmed to him quickly, shutting up as soon as Auguste began to strum the guitar again.
She began to sing again when her lyrics came in, feeling everything else evaporate except for the music. That was how she wanted songwriting to feel all the time, without the pressure of getting things "right". It wasn't about the money for her, even if there were plenty of people standing behind her who cared about their bottom lines. Her heart was in the music itself, in singing and not caring. That wasn't to say that she neglected her technique; she was still careful not to do anything that would sound awful or amateurish or that—worse—would do something to damage her voice, but a sense of freedom was what propelled Camila forward. She gave her all to it because she wanted it to turn out well, and she smiled gently as the song (at least as they had it at that point) came to a close.
Wondering if he had picked up on anything that hadn't been apparent to her as they were singing, Camila looked to Auguste. "Good?" she asked him, though she didn't mind running through it a few more times.
@auguste
OOC: I'm thinking we can bring this to an end soon?