My Inspiration - Rotary Young Writer's Entry 2019

This piece was initially written as an entry to this year's Young Writer Competition, which is organised both on a local and international level by the Rotary Club of Great Britain and Ireland.  I'd seen the leaflets for the competition floating around on the noticeboard of my School's English Department for a month before I decided to write an entry for the competition - thinking, rather naively, how hard can it be to write five hundred words?

As the creative cogs in my mind began to whir, I started trying to decide what exactly I should write about. My initial thoughts were to write about my family; for those who know me, I take a huge deal of inspiration and encouragement from both my mother and father, who saw the hard times through and came out fighting on many occasions, only for things to nosedive again soon after. Nonetheless, they continued persevering - and I've always admired the strength they showed. Yet, I thought this was slightly cliché; how many other people would choose to write about their parents? 

I decided to think outside of the box, yet this led to an internal conflict arising within me.

Confused and a little emotional, I sought advice from one of the few people I trust for advice when it comes to my writing; a lady who, for the sake of anonymity, shall be referred to as The Don. She's a brilliant and hilarious woman who manages to make me smile, and she's been someone who I've been able to turn to when I need advice for a long while. I went to her office, and after a long late-night chat (with a few tears and a lot of hugs) she helped me to decide on the way forward. Feeling in the mood to write, I returned from our conversation, sitting down at around 22:30 to try and fathom my feelings and thoughts into coherent words. I had a first draft finished by midnight of the same evening, and what you'll read below is 99% accurate to the draft I wrote that night. It was a dream to write if anything; it was as though the words simply flowed out of my pen and onto my notepad with ease.

A couple of days later I found myself filling in the entry form, double-checking all of the dates and names and conditions for entry until I could almost recite them by heart. I sent it off - and that was that -  until the end of April when  I received an email from the Head of Department. In it, she'd forwarded me a message from the head judge that stated that I'd won the first prizes for the School, Local and District Finals. Not only that; but I'd also received a highly commended in the Nationals. Not only had I championed Essex, but I'd also been in reaching distance of a national award too; and by Jove, it was a thrilling yet terrifying thought. I'd never have thought when I sat down to write it that it would've gone that far.

My first out-of-the-box thought was to write about a song; it isn't well-known or popular, but it means something that for a while I couldn't fathom or put into words. It was one of those pieces that has stuck with me throughout my life: even for a long period in which I forgot the name of the song, and only had fragments of the melody surfacing occasionally in my mind. This piece of writing is my attempt to try and work out just what that meaning is: and although I feel as though I've only just scratched the surface, I feel as though I've made a strong start in working it out.

My Inspiration

By Charlotte Perry

Most people, when tasked with writing about their inspiration, would write about a friend who has supported them, or perhaps an iconic figure from history. But I don’t like to be like everyone else: so instead my inspiration comes from a song, a memory, and a man who left too soon. 

The song itself is deemed by most to not be hugely significant: indeed, it was no chart topper in its day, and even now when I play it a majority of people have never heard of the artist: never mind the song. Many often dismiss it too due to its lack of words: “A four minute song with no lyrics?” they scoff, “How do you take inspiration from that?”

I’ve pondered this question extensively throughout the years, and whilst I’ve never known how to explain it properly to others, I know exactly why it inspires me in the way it does. For every time I listen to it it’s as if I’m transported back to a certain summer’s evening in July 2006. I was four at the time, and clambering into the front of my dad’s classic car I recalled to him my highly stressful day at nursery whilst he drove down to Southend seafront. I remember this as if it was yesterday: the feeling of the wind entangling its blustery fingers through my hair, the feeling of seeing the tender evening summer’s sun gently shimmering, illuminating everything with an almost heavenly golden glow. The feeling too, of getting swept in to the pulsating, climactic crescendo of the chorus that came crashing in like a powerful wave on a groyne: it hit, and an overwhelming sense of assuredness washed over me.

I recall how dad looked at me when, leaning my head against the cool vinyl trim, I asked him to play the song again: it was one of fatherly pride, one that a dad might have when his daughter discovers the pleasure that his favourite song can bring. He failed to hide his joyful smile as he rewound the tape: so his daughter wouldn’t become West Ham’s top striker, but she can appreciate a cracking song. It was a smile that I’ve never forgotten: and although the time since has been filled with uncertainty and confusion, I reflect upon it and the thoughts I had then with crystal clarity: that moments like this really do make life worth living, no matter the hardships you encounter. All you have to do is keep going.

Eventually, dad faced his own challenges: he fought his battles bravely, yet he never won his war. He, much like the song he left behind, taught me just how important it is to enjoy life while you can, and continue making the most of it despite the dark clouds that can shroud you. He may no longer be there to support, but he left me with the gift of a song that could: and that is something that shall inspire me for decades to come. 

Jean-Michel Jarre's Rendez-Vous Album (1986)

About the album - Rendez-Vous

This album, which was released over 30 years ago in 1986, is the eighth studio album of French musician Jean-Michel Jarre and his most successful album to date: selling just over 3 million copies and scoring an impressive run in music charts both in Europe and across the pond in America. The album is commonly noted for its Baroque style and mixture of instruments such as French horns, violins and heavy use of synthesizers in tracks such as Second Rendez-Vous. The music itself on this album acts as not only a melodic representation of Houston and its evolution from a Southern rural economy to a world leader in space technology, but rather more poignantly acts as a commemoration to the men and women who lost their lives in the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster just months before the album was released. Many of the astronauts lost on that day had been working on this album with Jarre: most notably musician Ronald McNair, who was set to have recorded the saxophone segment from Rendez-Vous VI whilst away on the mission. In accordance with the dedication, Rendez-Vous VI (also referred to as the Last Rendez-Vous on certain copies) came to be known as "Ron's Piece" in order to mark the particularly close friendship. Months after the disaster and death of his friend, Jarre performed several songs from this album at open-air concert Rendez-Vous Houston - A City in Concert to an audience of over 1.5 million people.

The song from this album that inspires me is Fourth Rendez-Vous: arguably one of the more happier melodies on an album noted for the emotional variation between tracks. Seen by many as the commercial high-point of the album, it has come to be remembered as one of the more memorable songs from this album alongside sister track "Second Rendez-Vous." Nonetheless, it is still obscured by Jarre's other noteworthy tracks and earlier albums such as Oxygène and Équinoxe, which receive much more favourable reviews and greater airtime on radios across the world. For me, it's come to be one of my all-time cherished songs; not only because of the memories of dad that come flooding back every time I listen to it, but also because of the range of emotions that are invoked within me upon hearing the initial beats. It's one of those rare songs that has the power to make me both euphoric and melancholic: often at the same time. I must have listened to it thousands of times since rediscovering it in the summer of 2017, yet it never fails to make me break out in a smile or have goosebumps cover my arms whenever I listen to it. I know why this song has captured me in such a way, yet I'll never know why my dad considered this song to be one of his personal favourites. I can hazard a guess based upon seeing (and now owning part of) his incredible collection of vinyls, tour shirts and cassettes that he was a massive fan of Jarre - but the mystery as to why he felt the need to play a song from an "underdog" album to his four-year-old daughter this song on that Friday afternoon eludes me.