Just finished a first draft, tentatively tited “I swear I heard”, about a boy who discovers a new style of music.
Here’s the excerpt:
One night you went back to Kinney’s, late, and the joint got jumping just after you got there. Everyone had been waiting for you. They were playing, but they said it wasn’t they same with you. Some fool came up with a Mardi Gras crown and put it on your head and said you were the king of music.
You remembered that man’s words, with your crown on your head and the sun just about coming up outside, your tie undone and sweat on your forehead in the August heat, and you put your lips on that cornet and you blew, you blew that sweet note again, just like the man told you.
I appear to have an interest in the fantastical touching historical figures and times. We’ll see what it means, later.