Eve White: Literary Agent

from A NOTE OF MADNESS

By one o'clock in the morning, only Flynn was left writing. Jennah was curled up in the armchair playing with her hair and Harry was passed out on the couch. Still the music rang loud and clear in Flynn's head, and his hand ached from the effort of trying to keep up with the notes as they poured out of him. It was difficult to sit still; he wanted to leap, spin and dance to the sound of the music bursting inside him. Christ, he thought, Harry and Jennah don't know what they are missing. They don't know how fabulous this is going to be. They don't realize... Perhaps this is what Mozart had felt like? A step ahead of everyone else. Able to produce effortless music that would be played for centuries to come. Unappreciated in his time yet labelled a genius after his death. Chorus, he had to have a chorus! Ripping off one sheet, he started on another, humming to himself... Bases, tenors, altos, sopranos. The music rose and rose inside his head, reaching a crescendo so powerful, so pure, it was uncontainable. He could barely make out the separate notes, could hardly break the music down into bars, could no longer get his hand to keep up with his head.