When I’m first piecing together the bones of a book, one of the most important things for me is to find the right rhythm. In the early stages of No One You Know I had a CD in the car, which contained a mix of a number of my favorite instrumental pieces: the soundtrack to The Endless Summer, Lesley Spencer’s Russian Waltz, Ryuichi Sakamoto’s Railroad Man–quiet, contemplative pieces, some piano, some guitar.

Then, as I began to get more deeply into the story, more songs drifted into my head. Some on this list are mentioned in the novel, others capture the spirit of the book and its San Francisco setting. I included a few obscure tunes as well as more popular ones–the latter, because a catchy song that’s part of the national musical lexicon can take you right back to the first time you heard it–who you were with, what you were doing, how you felt. (I came of age in the eighties, which means that certain songs always remind me of that homemade pantsuit I had, the camouflage one with the serious shoulder pads.)

1. Warren Zevon, Carmelita, from the original album, entitled Warren Zevon. At the book launch for No One You Know, friend, author, legendary rock journalist, and sometime karaoke singer Ben Fong-Torres showed up and sang a few lines of this song, just as he does in the book. (Ben put together a fun video of his crowd-pleasing cameo, which you can watch here.)

2. Rod Stewart, “Reason to Believe,” an old Tim Hardin tune that appeared on Rod Stewart’s classic 1971 album, Every Picture Tells a Story. It was the B-side to this single, “Maggie May,” that initially turned Rod Stewart into a household name.

3. Cat Stevens, “If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out.” This song also originally appeared in 1971. It was featured in the great movie Harold & Maude, which celebrated a spring/winter romance, as well as the foggier side of the Bay Area.

4. Cowboy Junkies, A Horse In The Country The original version appeared on the Black-Eyed Man album. It’s about a girl whose life isn’t so great, but she has a horse in the country, and she gets to see him “every second Sunday.” She dreams of getting on her horse and riding away. Don’t we all feel that way sometimes?

5. Townes Van Zandt, To Live Is To Fly This can be found on the soundtrack to the great Townes Van Zandt documentary, Be Here to Love Me, which was directed by Margaret Brown, a classmate of mine from Murphy High School in Mobile, Alabama. Guy Clark did a beautiful version of this song a few years back on the tribute disc Poet. Clark’s version plays here on my website.

6. Bob Dylan, “Most of the Time,” from Dylan’s 1989 album, “Oh, Mercy.” When people talk about their favorite Dylan songs, they tend to go back to his earliest albums. For me, though, this mid-career gem is one of his best.

7. Journey, “Lights.” This song first appeared on Journey’s breakthrough album, Infinity, and has been playing ever since on San Francisco radio stations. As with “Sweet Home Alabama” in my home state, and anything by Billy Joel in New York City, if your turn on the radio in the Bay Area, you’re eventually going to hear “Lights.” At the most basic level, you have to admire a song that works so hard to rhyme the words “city” and “bay.” Years ago, my husband and I put in an offer on an old, red, three-story house in the Outer Richmond, where members of the band allegedly once lived. We didn’t get the house, but we ended up in the same neighborhood, a setting that has deeply influenced my novels.

8. Kings of Convenience, “Cayman Islands,” from the under-appreciated 2004 gem Riot on an Empty Street. This is a song about memory, how single moments can seem so insignificant, only to be invested with meaning years later.

9. Lloyd Cole, “Rattlesnakes,” from the album of the same title. My husband and I saw several Lloyd Cole shows when we were living in New York City, and we see him every time he comes out to San Francisco. Lloyd Cole has appeared in every one of my novels.

10. Lucinda Williams, “Here in California,” from the 1998 Kate Wolf tribute album, Treasures Left Behind. A melancholy song about my adopted state, where “the hills turn brown in the summertime.” Lucinda is the daughter of one of my professors from my grad school days, acclaimed poet Miller Williams. When I hear her songs, many of which reference an unhappy childhood, I always think of her father, and I wonder how he feels to have parts of his life exposed like that. I had dinner with him a few years ago when I was traveling down South, and he was justifiably beaming with pride. Lucinda is a storyteller as much as she is a singer; the writers who were always hanging around her home must have played some part in that.

11. Billy Bragg and Wilco, “California Stars,” from Mermaid Avenue. An antidote to number 10: this one will make you feel good about California. The contrast between the two sounds is stunning, too: Billy Bragg’s way-down deep and soothing voice, compared to Williams’s gloriously ragged one.

12. Nick Cave, “Into My Arms,” from the 1997 Nick Cave disc The Boatman’s Call. This song has a special place in my heart, as my husband played it for me many times on our cross-country road trip from Arkansas to New York City the same year it was released. On that trip we ran into a blizzard, got stuck in motel called The Bucksnort Inn on the opening day of hunting season in Bucksnort, Tennessee, and kept my husband’s Mitsubishi pickup truck running on love and hot chocolate.

13. Richard Hawley, “Just Like the Rain,” from the wonderful 2005 disc, Coles Corner. Although this song came out just a few years ago, it conjures a musical world from another time.

Your turn: What do you listen to while you’re working?

Check back for my favorite songs from locals Sugar dePalma, the Barbary Coasters, and Walty. You can find the entire playlist in the newly-released paperback edition of No One You Know. And if any of these songs strike your fancy, maybe we’re kindred spirits. I’d love to see you and a few dozen of your closest friends tonight at Mrs. Dalloway’s in Berkeley, 7:30 p.m., where I’ll be reading with the talented Meg Waite Clayton.