Music blasts through my studio as I scribble out song lyrics, crossing out lyrics that don’t make sense.
I can’t think of anything, and I need to get this out as soon as possible.
I’m staring at my notebook, page blank, not even a title.
Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance rings through the room, so loud I can feel the beat from my speakers move through my chair.
We'll carry on, we'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone, believe me
Your memory will carry on
We'll carry on
And in my heart, I can't contain it
The anthem won't explain it
A world that sends you reelin'
From decimated dreams
Your misery and hate will kill us all
So paint it black and take it back
Let's shout it loud and clear
Defiant to the end, we hear the call
I have no idea how to start this song. And it’s my solo song. Of course I’m going to be lost here.
I’d ask someone for help, but then it wouldn’t be mine.
This album is our debut album, we have to get this done soon as we need to submit our songs to our producer at the end of the week.
So of course I try and work hard, until I have multitudes of crumpled notebook paper pages on the floor surrounding me.
And I still have nothing.
Just dead pages.
I want this to be mine, and it’s weird that I can’t get a word out.
The song switches to Home, from Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors, and Bebe Rexha. It’s calmer, allowing me to get into more of a ‘zone’, per se.
I look at the current tracklist for Make It. There are five songs: Staying Home, Live With It, Reciprocation?, Mirror Talk, and Dragged. Mirror Talk and Reciprocation? are solos. This one is supposed to be mine. And I can’t find anything to write.
This album in and of itself is more taboo in a sense, at least in comparison to other newly-debuted idol groups.
Think of something, damn it.
An aggressive song pounds through the speakers, and I quickly break my trance to change it. I decided on something calmer. Adderall from EMM.
Of course, I was still stuck, staring at blank pages, ink bleeding through. Art decorates the margins, scribbles of my signature up at the top, as well as crossed-out song title ideas that just don’t fit.
I write another title, only to scribble it out a minute later.
Nothing fits. Nothing feels right.
And I hate it. Nothing ever feels right and I’m in a massive time crunch.
I rip off the page, crumpling it and tossing it into my trash can.
Music blasts again. I hear it as my focus is peeled from the empty page, to the studio door opening behind me.
“Perfume. Lovejoy.”
The voice is all-too-familiar. One of my bandmates.
“Mars, what’s up?”
“Aw, no Marsie? Just plain old Mars?”
“Moonbyul, I’m trying to work.”
“I can tell. How’s it coming?”
“Not well.”
“Talk to me.”
“I can’t get a damn lyric written.”
“That isn’t good.”
“What did you write your solo on?”
“Reciprocated feelings. Reciprocation? is my song, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
“Want any help?”
“I shouldn’t ask for it...then the words wouldn’t be mine.”
“Always this way. Go off the theme of the album, hm? This album focuses on more things that aren’t really talked about in the music industry. Try going with that, Z-hyung.”
“Easier said than done, Byul. You know that better than anyone.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
Mars takes a spot on my couch, looking at my computer and my notebook.
“Before you say anything, yes, I know this room is a mess.”
“Then let me clean up, also I was just letting you know Jay hyung is planning to get some food so I came here to ask if you were hungry, since you’ve been cooped up here all day.”
“I’d love food, thank you.” I mumble as I get up, stretching. I pick up all the crumbled paper and I toss them in the recycling can next to my desk.
“I’m gonna head out, Z. Your song will be absolutely amazing when you complete it. I’ll return with some food. Now go kick ass.”
I laugh as Mars leaves, and I try to get back to work, singing along to whatever song was playing as I scribbled out more lyrics. I manage to get a few lines for the chorus, reading them over in my head, and I love it. It’s beautiful.
I title the song Time. The title is more or less temporary until the final product. I take some musical inspiration from others as well, taking old samples from songs that either I or Dawn worked on pre-debut, and I even reworked a few samples, managing to record a demo of the first verse.
I was proud of myself. I decided to relax, as I have been working non-stop for hours. I close my notebook and computer and switch the playlist on my phone.
About ten minutes later Mars arrives with Panda Express, taking a spot on my couch once more.
“So you got the song done?”
“Yeah, I did a demo of the chorus but I need to work on it. What have you all been up to?”
“Working on perfecting the Give it to Me choreography for our debut concert.”
“Sounds pretty fun, Marsie. How’s the choreography going for you guys?”
“It’s physically demanding. But fun. We have Han stepping in for you at the moment. He knows the choreo as well as you do.”
“Yeah, he loves dancing, I practiced the choreo with Han and Kai a bit when we were working it out, with your and Jay’s demo of it. It’s evolved since the song’s been finished and polished up, but it’s going great.”
Han is my security guard, and we’re really close, like family. He can be very stoic and serious yet he’s always there to joke around or step in for me in a dance practice if I’m unavailable. I believe he’d be in an idol group if he truly wanted. I actually asked him that once, and he said that he would like it, but he is only truly talented at dancing, and songwriting too. He’s helped me lots with songwriting when I got into writer’s blocks pre-debut.
Mars and I spend some more time chatting away before our phones go off, indicating we’re both needed in the conference room for a meeting with our manager.
“I guess lunch is cut short today, Marsie.”
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