Today, I wanted to share a little more about my creative process and how music plays a central role in Jolink Stories and in the way I write missing scenes.
Music has always been a huge part of my life.
I listen to music from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep. There is music for every part of my day: waking up, cooking, chilling, reading, working, walking through the city feeling like the world is mine, eating, exercising, partying, slowing down. Music is never just background noise — it’s a constant companion. For me, silence feels like a void. It almost scares me.
Growing up, music became my emotional regulator.
It was the space where I learned to connect to my emotions, to sit with them, to make sense of what I was feeling. I’ve always been deeply drawn to emotional scores — slower rhythms, low beats, music that breathes. I love upbeat songs too, when I feel like celebrating or dancing, but as a deeply emotional person, I need music that allows me to pause, feel, and process.
That’s one of the reasons Grey’s Anatomy has always resonated so strongly with me.
Music is a fundamental part of the show’s storytelling. There isn’t a single episode where music doesn’t elevate the emotion, guide the pacing, or leave a mark. Some scores left a permanent mark on me. To this day, listening to them takes me back to the very first time I heard them.
In January last year, when I needed a bubble to escape into — a space to reflect and decide what was next for me professionally — I dived into what I call my Grey’s Anatomy bubble. I binge-watched twelve seasons in four months, and when I finished, I was ready to change careers. During that time, I started compiling a playlist: songs from the show that moved me, emotional tracks that helped me reconnect with myself, and other music that felt like it could belong in that universe.
That playlist became my go-to space for introspection.
And when I began imagining — only in my head at first— the Jolink scenes that would later become the first missing scenes of Jolink Stories, it was through that music. Listening to those tracks helped me access the emotional state of the characters, not intellectually, but instinctively. It allowed me to feel what they might be feeling in those moments the show skipped over.
Over time, the playlist grew and became fully integrated into my creative process.
I don’t just listen to it while I write, I rely on it. Sometimes I choose a single track and listen to it on loop for hours. At some point, the music almost disappears, and what remains is the internal dialogue of the scene, the emotions taking shape beneath the words.
For certain scenes, one specific song becomes the song — the emotional reference point that carries the tone of the moment. It’s not about inspiration anymore, it’s about emotional consistency.
Sharing this playlist wasn’t an obvious decision.
It’s something deeply personal, almost private. But I eventually chose to share it because I wanted the scenes to reach their full emotional potential — and because I wanted to offer readers the possibility of experiencing the story the way I experience it while writing.
One habit that has become an essential part of my creative process is using physical movement (especially at the gym) to access emotional and narrative flow. When I work out, I pick one song — just one — and listen to it on loop for an hour. I intentionally direct my thoughts toward what I want to explore during that session. It can be a personal subject or a creative project I want to dive into. And these days, it’s mostly Jolink Stories. I think about which scene I want to explore, which emotion I want to convey, and slowly, the scenes start to play out in my head, carried by that music.
If music is such a core part of how I create, I wanted to give you the option to access that layer too.
Just like watching the show is an immersive experience, these missing scenes are written to be visually and emotionally immersive as well. The playlist is an extension of that experience.
It’s entirely optional, of course. Not everyone connects to music the same way, and that’s okay.
But this playlist is here if you want it.
It will keep growing. And from now on, when a specific track truly shaped a scene — when it was the music I listened to while writing it — I will reference it directly within the missing scene.
Because sometimes, emotion begins before the words.
Listen to the full playlist on Spotify

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