Where do writers get the ideas for their stories? From life experiences, of course, as well as family histories. News reports and past history, either the writer’s or someone else’s, are common sources. Sometimes a writer will adapt an older piece of creative writing, even a poem, for modern use, again sometimes a piece the writer once wrote or from another author. I can’t speak for other writers but sometimes I have no idea where a story comes from, since my own stories sometimes seem to begin without me, materializing mysteriously and depositing themselves at the tips of my fingers as they hover over my keyboard.

As one recent example, I was reading the online edition of the New York Times before going to sleep one night last week. I started dozing off but was startled when my iPad began slipping from my fingers. The name “Bootsie Johnson” popped into my mind. I have no idea why or what the name means. I only know I wrote more than two pages to start a short story before going to sleep. Two days ago I worked on that and, in six pages, created the start of Bootsie’s story, as told by the grandson of some person who had been Bootsie’s grandfather. After googling, I found that someone with that name was the victim of a murder in 2012. There are actually quite a few citations to artists, musicians, and others bearing the name “Bootsie.” If I found only that poor murder victim I wouldn’t be able to use the name. Now, I’m not sure. Also “bootsie” is sometimes slang for “bad.” That, in a story, would foretell an unhappy ending. I haven’t decided what the ending should be. I wonder if there was a late news show discussing a person named Bootsie that I heard while I was half asleep. No matter, I have decided to keep the name and will try and create an interesting and entertaining story around it.

This kind of accidental thought leading to a story seems to work fairly often for me, whether for a novel or a short story or a new post for this blog.

Years ago, when I was bogged down (being ‘bogged down’ is not uncommon for writers—also known as ‘writer’s block’) in a novel on which I was working, it was suggested I should write a sequel to A Little Piece of Me, my first novel. Indeed, a few people who reviewed the book on Amazon.com suggested continuing the story (“… the kind of book that at the end makes you dream about what happens to the surviving characters later in life.” “I was completely engrossed in this very realistic novel and look forward to another on Marcia’s future.” “I’d like to know how she does.”). A follow-up now seems logical, since the next steps for the main character, Marcia, were enigmatic when the novel ended. Would she remain a music teacher? Would she follow the urgings of her mother and her piano teachers and pursue a career as a concert pianist? Would she marry again? Would she have another child? Five years ago I did not know the answers to these questions and did not particularly care to try to find out. Indeed, I emphatically told one friend that I had written as much about Marcia as I wanted to write and had no interest in writing more.

I’ve worked on blogs, short stories and other novels while not thinking at all about the sequel. I have about twenty short stories written, one of which was published last year and that I republished as a blog post (https://stephenageller.com/2019/07/17/fallen-leaves-a-short-story/) and one of which will be published in a few months (and eventually make it to this site). There have also been many dozens of rejection letters for my short stories (it is said that J.D. Salinger, who wrote Catcher in the Rye, had more than a hundred rejections of his short stories before his first acceptance, so I am not terribly discouraged). I have finished a second novel and am searching for an agent to represent it. A third novel is also done but still needs considerable work and I have started three other novels, all in various stages of completion.

For some reason I do not know, about a week ago, I began wondering what happened to Marcia and started the sequel, Encore, to tell some more of her story. Encore take places 10 years after the last one ended (Dumas’ sequel to The Three Musketeers was titled Twenty Years After, one of my favorite books, so I did not title my book Ten Years After). As of this writing, I have a good idea of the plot and almost 90 pages written. I now know how Marcia was in the decade after Max’s death and think others might be interested. I anticipate the finished novel will be approximately 300 pages. Importantly, I am quite fond of this older Marcia, who has survived considerable sadness and pain and yet, by the last lines of A Little Piece of Me, seems a stronger, more secure young woman. I am enjoying writing about her as she approaches middle age.

But that is not the purpose of this new blog post. While working on Encore I discovered a separate small story to tell.

Researching a potential aspect of the next phase of Marcia’s life, I came across online recordings of Artur Schnabel, arguably the greatest Beethoven interpreter of the 20th century, playing all five Beethoven piano concertos. I often hear Schnabel play Beethoven’s piano sonatas—they come up when I say, “Alexa, play Beethoven piano sonatas.” Schnabel was the first to record, in 1932-35, the complete sonatas—but never paid attention to the fact that these concerto recordings existed. I have the recordings of three or four other pianists playing the Beethoven concertos but never heard Schnabel’s renditions. After listening to Schnabel’s interpretations on the internet website ‘Internet Archive,’ (the link is below) I feel impelled to share these marvelous performances. This posting seems to me to be a gift of incalculable value. Classical music may not be for everyone, piano concertos may not be for everyone and Beethoven may not be for everyone (I don’t really believe this, of course—if ever there was a composer for everyone, it is the genius who wrote the 9th Symphony. One only has to think of the countless iterations of the “Ode to Joy” theme, even in hip-hop music, to see that Beethoven is decidedly for everyone—Schnabel’s transcendental performances might convince a few …).

Not the best quality recordings—they are from more than a half-century ago—but, as I have listened to them again recently, I am convinced they are, at the least, among the best performances of these amazing compositions.

If you don’t know these pieces, and need to be convinced to listen, I urge you to start with track #9. It is the third and last movement of the Third Piano Concerto. You don’t

need to know the key (C minor) or the composer’s notation (Rondo [Vivace]). Just listen. Wow! Brilliant, dazzling sounds will fill your ears. Amazing music, written by an increasingly deaf composer, and played with love and understand. Schnabel is one of the few interpreters who is able to put the core of Beethoven into his playing. Let everything—troubles, anxieties, fears—disappear for a little while. When this track is over, when you’ve listened to the highs and lows (Schnabel was a master of the soft sounds), try track #10, the first movement of the Fourth Piano Concerto, then #15, the incredible final movement of the Emperor Concerto, the Piano Concerto #5. Or maybe track #13; the explosive opening of the Emperor Concerto that may leave you breathless. Or perhaps another, chosen at random. The first and third movements of all of the concertos will be easy for those not familiar with them. The second (“slow”) movements are exquisitely beautiful but may require a little more attention by the visitor new to this world.

After sampling here and there you may very well want to go back to track #1, the first movement of the first Piano Concerto of Ludwig van Beethoven, and just listen and listen and listen until the last note of track #15, the final movement of the Fifth, sounds. If you have never heard these pieces before you are in for a special treat. Indeed, if you have already heard these pieces before you are still in for a special treat.

2020 will include the 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth—December 16, 1770. Consider this link a gift in early celebration:
https://archive.org/details/BEETHOVENTheFivePianoConcertos/

Who was Artur Schnabel?

Aaron, later Artur, Schnabel was born in Lipik, Austro-Hungary (now Poland) April 17, 1882. When he was two, his family moved to Vienna. Although his parents were not musicians—his father was a textile merchant—they encouraged their son to study the piano which he began at age six with Hans Schmitt, a professor at the Vienna Conservatory. Three years later he started lessons with the great teacher Theodor Leschetizky. He studied composition with Eusebius Mandyczewski, who was an assistant to Johannes Brahms, in whose company Schnabel often was (see also https://stephenageller.com/2019/03/06/medical-trivia-4-billroth-and-brahms/ ).

Schnabel’s official concert debut was when he was fifteen in Vienna. Later that year he gave a series of concerts in Budapest, Prague and Brünn (today Brno, Czech Republic).

He moved to Berlin in 1898 and, reputation established, toured widely after World War I, visiting England, Russia and the United States. When he was 20 he formed, with a violinist and cellist, the Schnabel Trio. A second Schnabel Trio formed five years later. He then played in a quartet along with some of the foremost musicians of the 20th century: violinist Bronislaw Huberman, violist (and future ground-breaking composer) Paul Hindemith and the cellist Gregor Piatogorsky. He performed with the most distinguished conductors of the day, including Wilhelm Furtwängler, Bruno Walter, Otto Klemperer and George Szell. Schnabel, who was Jewish, left Berlin when the Nazi party took control in 1933. He lived in England for a time and came to the United States in 1939, becoming a citizen in 1944. When the war ended he moved to Switzerland. His mother died in Theresienstadt concentration camp and he never visited Austria or German after peace was obtained.

Schnabel was best known for his devotion to the music of Mozart, Schubert and, especially, Beethoven. He was also renowned for his performances of Brahms, Schumann and Bach and had a wide repertoire that included many other composers. But it is his championing of the then relatively neglected sonatas of Schubert and, particularly, Beethoven, including his more challenging late works such as the

Schnabel in later years

 

“unplayable” opus 106 Hammerklavier sonata, that made Schnabel one of the most highly regarded pianists.

Schnabel also composed. It is interesting that, in spite of his identity with Brahms, Beethoven, Schubert and Mozart, almost all of his own compositions are atonal, perhaps reflecting his close friendship with Arnold Schoenberg, his Austrian-American compatriot, who is best known for pioneering atonal and twelve-tone music.

Schnabel was an intellectual, with a prodigious talent, but he was also quite witty. At the end of a performance of the Beethoven Diabelli Variations, he said, “I am the only person here who is enjoying this, and I get the money; they pay and have to suffer.” About Mozart, he said, “The sonatas of Mozart are unique; they are too easy for children and too difficult for artists.” About Beethoven, he said, “Mozart is a garden, Schubert is a forest in light and shade, but Beethoven is a mountain range.” When giving advice to students, he recommended, “When a piece gets difficult, make faces.” When asked about technique, he said, “I always make sure the lid over the keyboard is open before I play.” He described audiences; “I know two kinds of audiences only—one coughing and one not coughing.” He almost never played encores, explaining, “Applause is a receipt, not a note of demand.” About his own unique talent, he commented, “The notes I handle no better than many pianists. But the pauses between the notes—ah, that is where the art resides.”

Schnabel wrote three books: My Life and Music,  and Music, Wit, and Wisdom. He continued to
give concerts in America and Europe until the end of his life. He died at his home in Axenstein, Switzerland, in 1951 when he was 69 years old.

References:
Schonberg, Harold C. The Great Pianists. 1987.
Searchinger, Cesar. Artur Schnabel. A Biography. 1957.