life imitating art (or at least a first effort novel)

i'll start off by saying i've done absolutely no work on my novel.

i know i should, and i'm sure i will, but right now i have quite a full plate.

of course, there is always time for a-ha!

for the moment i am decidedly anti-twitter, but that doesn't stop me from checking up on my favorite norwegian men. it was quite a pleasant surprise to see them uploading pictures from the set of their video shoot. i was, like many other fans, incredibly pleased to learn their last single would indeed have a video to accompany it.

but then they uploaded the end of day/video shoot wrap picture. 

and i was totally blindsided.

i can only guess what these three men were feeling as they embraced each other. 

the image alone was enough to bring tears to my eyes. 

and imagining the waves of emotions they must have been feeling as they shared a last hug on their final video shoot kept the tears flowing.

so what does this have to do with my first novel? 

nothing, i thought. until my friend pointed out i was pretty much acting the same way as a character in the manuscript:

Remember your best friend that lived and breathed for a certain musician or band? Rio does, but the friend is her mother and the band is from the 80's. LAST TIME LA LUNA is the story of Rio Luna's attempt to live her life in the present and escape her mother's unrelenting obsession with the past. Rio (named after the hit song by Duran Duran) is convinced Momma's fanatical behavior has permanently branded "MISFIT" upon her forehead. Having grown up without knowing her father, or experiencing life as a "normal" teenager, she spends her days wishing Momma would get with the times.   

When realizing Momma enjoys living in the past more than she enjoys existing in the present, Rio at last begins to take responsibility for her own happiness, but just as she starts to blossom, Momma spirals into a deep depression after waking up from her 80's induced haze to find the world has passed her by. Frightened by the empty shell of a woman before her, Rio does everything she can to get her Duran Duran obsessed mother back, stumbling across her long lost father in the process. His sudden appearance bewilders Rio and causes Momma to instantly regress to 1984 and her teenage romance. As Rio's and Momma's individual needs clash head on, both mother and daughter are forced to face past and present together. Rio's shame and resentment towards Momma melt into empathy and support and she finds her life filled with more than she ever wished for.

now it wasn't exactly flattering to hear i was mirroring the same obsessive behaviour of one of my characters. in fact, as i wrote the novel it was my intent to show Momma as selfish and immature. imagine the great fun i had realizing i'd pretty much prophesied my own emotional state.

the truth is, i've always wished i were a teenager in the 80s. and i wrote the Momma character through my own personality filter. so her reaction to her favorite band losing two original members, and my reaction to a-ha disbanding are almost identical. when i wrote the novel i had no idea i would actually live some of it. yes, it was cathartic when i wrote it, but i had no clue how close to home it would actually hit.

i guess i can be pleased i managed to write something so realistic. and if i really do have the ability to predict the future, i can breathe easy since Momma's story does indeed have a happy ending.

rah, rah ,rah!

i'd love to tell you the reason i've been absent from the blogosphere is because i've been cracking away at my manuscript - furiously flying through my revisions so i can start the climactic ending of my novel.
but...
that would be a big fat lie.

oi.
i KNOW i'm supposed to be working on my opening chapters and making my work more cohesive and polished.
i KNOW i have to actually complete the darn thing if i'm ever going to submit it.
and i KNOW i should dedicate the small amount of free time i have to my writing.

but...
i am heavily distracted. and of course you already know by who:

so, color me obsessed.
but can you blame me? they will only exist as a band for six more months.
i think that well entitles me to listen to their cds, watch their videos, swoon over photos, fantasize about...erm, uh, you know what i mean.

i know once the year is out, and my favorite group has disbanded, i will no longer be acting like an infatuated preteen. strange as it may sound, it's been fun to experience all this again as an adult in control of her life as opposed to the girl who felt helpless and had to turn to music as her only source of comfort. in a way it feels like i get to fully enjoy their music for what it is, instead of drawing from it what i needed.

i can't say for sure i'd be feeling this flood of emotions so strongly if i weren't in the middle of writing a YA novel. but, knowing me, i can't say for sure i wouldn't, either.

mr. write has been a dream about all this.

he's tolerated my love for a-ha for as long as he's known me. in fact, one of the first times he and i snuggled i dreamily informed him, "you smell like my a-ha book" so it's not like he didn't know what he was getting into when we started dating.

he was even genuinely happy for me when i scored tickets to their sold out concert in london.

yup - you read that right!

I'VE GOT TICKETS TO SEE A-HA AT THE ROYAL ALBERT HALL IN LONDON!!!

of course, this doesn't necessarily mean i'll actually be able to make it over the pond to see them, but at least i have tickets to their (very special and once in a lifetime) show at the RAH.

so, now that there is a glimmer of hope i might be able to see my band perform one last time, i REALLY need to get back on track with my novel. 

but who am i kidding? there's a ton of youtube videos calling my name right now.

i done been tagged!

dawn, one of my favorite bloggers of all time, has tagged me with "seven things i love about being a writer".

here goes:

1) it makes me feel like i'm a very productive person!
whether i've written a hundred words, or twenty pages, i walk away from my computer feeling like i've accomplished something.

2) i get to be in charge.
ok, ok, usually my characters dictate what needs to be written, but for the most part i'm in control. there are no orders or directives from other people and no one looking over my shoulder and telling me how i should write what i want to write.

3) i get to do lots of time wasting web-searching, so long as i call it research.
i'm one of those people who always has 3 or more tabs on my internet browser, which i switch back and forth from continually. sometimes i'll only manage half a sentence before i'm compelled to check out the awkward family photos site. i'm not ADD by any means, though you'd bet money i was by my behaviour in front of the computer screen.

4) i've met some amazing people on my journey to be published.
if i wasn't a writer, i would not be reading 70% of the blogs i follow. and i would not have had the extreme pleasure to become friends with some of these bloggers.

5) it helps mi be less "me-centric".
alright, motherhood has done this more than anything, BUT having crit partners and beta readers forces me to look at someone else's perspective and opinions. it gets me out of my own head (as fabulous a hangout it is) and allows me to look at my work more objectively.

6) it makes my morning cuppa taste better!
i've been a tea drinker for most my life because i absolutely love the stuff. but nothing has made my first cup of the day taste better than sitting in front of my computer reading over what i'd written the day before.

7) it...completes me
believe it or not, for years i fought the writing bug. for a very personal reason, i never wanted to live under that label. but i finally succumbed because i had to. it's who i am, and what i do, and it feels incredibly wonderful to live it.

thanks again, dawn, for tagging me!
and everyone reading - consider yourself tagged!

over-thinking every little thing

i had fully intended to write my review on will grayson will grayson today, as well as finish revising my opening chapters, but i got seriously sidetracked by this song:

some of you might have read my post explaining how upset i am my favorite group will be disbanding after december 5th.


this song is their last single and written especially for their fans. it world premiered last night and i've listened to it on a continuous loop.
of course, any of you who know me probably already figured i was reduced to tears upon first hearing their last ever song.
and i was.


one of the reasons i've always loved a-ha is because of the stories their lyrics tell. being a writer, i'm often moved by songs that take me on a journey and are filled with emotion. usually, the words (i've always preferred the french word paroles) speak to me the first time i hear a song, but this time it took me several listens to decipher the meaning.


Butterfly, butterfly
Flying into the wind
You can be sure of it
That's no place to begin

Over-thinking every little thing
Acknowledge the bell you can't un-ring

Tomorrow you don't have to say what you're thinking
You don't have to mean what you say

Butterfly, Butterfly
Flutter in to the skies
Butterfly, Butterfly
Their molecular cries

Chrysalis dreams waiting on the fifth instar
These stained glass wings could only take you so far

Tomorrow you don't have to say that it matters
You don't have to turn something in
Stay with it through thick and thin
Butterfly, begin

Tomorrow you don't have to mean what you say
Left without a reason to stay
Comes the last hurrah
Here's our last hurrah

Butterfly, butterfly
You can be sure of it

i've heard several interpretations of these lyrics. some people think the butterfly is supposed to represent a-ha. others think the song is about the fans.
personally, i think there's a mix of both.


for instance, the acknowledge the bell you can't un-ring seems to be directed at people like me. the ones who don't want to think of them ending their career.


but these lyrics seem to be clearly written from the band's point of view:


Tomorrow you don't have to say what you're thinking
You don't have to mean what you say


Tomorrow you don't have to say that it matters
You don't have to turn something in
Stay with it through thick and thin
Butterfly, begin


Tomorrow you don't have to mean what you say
Left without a reason to stay


as much as i want to believe their 25 year career has been nothing but the best of times for them, these words show there was limited freedom in being known worldwide as a-ha. that after december 5th they'll no longer have to say "the right things" or constantly be pressured to deliver a new album. they won't have to be chained to their identity as a norwegian trio.
to me, it seems obvious a-ha is the butterfly. that they have spent the last 25 years going through a metamorphosis, and in december they can begin the next phase of their lives.


but, as all great songwriters do, they've left us with a bit of a mystery.
to me, this line Left without a reason to stay can be interpreted two different ways:
1. at the end of 25 years, they no longer had a reason to continue as a group
or
2. they chose, individually, to leave each other and disband. they didn't want to be talked into recording another album or doing another tour. and they didn't want to hear any reasons to stay.


i'd love to hear what you think - if this song sounds like someone yearning for freedom, or if it's a gentle reminder to adoring fans that life does go on.

may not be suitable for readers under seventeen

the other night i had the movie heathers playing in the background as i did laundry.

two things became very apparent to me while the film played:
1) it is not nearly as clever, witty or cool as i originally thought when i first saw it as a kid
2) there were things mentioned, portrayed and alluded to in the film that went completely over my head upon my first several viewings because i was a kid.


that isn't to say i didn't know what sex, murder and suicide were, nor was i so innocent (re: naive and gullible) to think i was watching a slightly roughed up john hughes film. but even though i had limited knowledge of such "meaty" subjects, i had enough imagination to make sense of the parts i didn't quite get.
for instance in this scene:



i always thought heather#1 moved out of camera frame to lie down on the ground so she and college guy could have sex and the sound of a zipper unzipping was her taking off her dress.
i did, however, wonder why the college guy closed his eyes instead of looking at the naked girl lying at his feet.
a minute later (i'm referencing the youtube video, not how long it took college guy to finish) heather#1 is in the bathroom looking in the mirror. she fills a glass with some water, takes a sip, then spits the water out at her reflection.
again - as a kid i thought she was just mad at herself for sleeping with college guy. i didn't realize there was a very specific reason why she had the water and spat.

the funny thing is, although i didn't fully understand what was going on in these scenes, it didn't take away from my overall understanding and enjoyment of the film. in fact, i probably would have liked the movie less if they'd been more graphic with the sex.

it can work the same way with novels, especially young adult ones.
i don't believe sexual situations have to be graphic or explicit to get the idea across, or for the reader to "fully" get involved with the characters. it's entirely possible to hint at, allude to, and make innuendo and still convey what needs to be made known.
just like my experience with the movie heathers, creating a certain setting and letting the reader "fill in the gaps" can be just as effective.

at least that's what i'm hoping since i will never be the sort of author who gives a blow by blow *ahem* description of a coupling act.

how can i sleep with your voice in my head

i'm still grieving and sad, but i'm forcing myself to get back to my writing. wrote about two sentences yesterday.
hey, it's a start.

awhile back i eavesdropped on a discussion about words and how they can hurt. a woman was complaining to her male friend about his usage of the "C" word. his defense was that he had used it to put down a male, NOT a female, so she shouldn't be that offended. Her response was that the "C" word is vulgar slang for female genitalia, so it was doubly offensive since he seemed to think that would be a fitting insult for a man.

later i told mr. write what i'd overheard.
"it's funny because if someone calls me a 'bitch' or the C-word, it just rolls off my back. being called 'fat' would bother me much more."
to which he laughed.

for me, the words that hurt most are the ones that comment on who i am as a person, or the ones that insult my character. those are the ones i find most offensive.
once i worked for a smoothie company and my manager was a very hard-working girl who pretty much came from nothing. she told me that she wanted to take some computer courses because she felt she needed to know how to work a computer better.
"that's great!" i told her.
"and maybe, if i finish the computer classes, i can take some other classes and get my AA," she replied hopefully.
"absolutely," i agreed, "knowledge is never wasted. plus, once you get your AA you might decide to go on and get your bachelor's."

she talked about signing up for computer classes for the next couple days, but after a visit from our district manager, she changed her mind.
"you know, i've decided against those classes." she told me after i'd asked if she signed up for the next semester. "our district manager is right. i don't NEED those classes here since we don't use computers. so it would just be cutting into my free time. i'm fine here without them."

let me tell you, i was SO pissed!
to me it seemed our district manager was perfectly happy with her little worker bee the way she was and didn't want her to gain any knowledge that could better herself, or learn any new skills she could use in another career.
to me that was the real insult.

even the most innocuous words strung together can hurt.
and i'm hoping the four words i said to the careless woman in the grocery store parking lot are being played on a loop in her head.
i'm hoping she's having trouble sleeping at night because she can't rid herself of my voice.
i'm hoping my four little words creep into her consciousness and knock the wind out of her while she's trying to get on with her day.

what four words could wield such power, you might ask?
you're. a. bad. mom.


these are very powerful words and i only used them because this woman truly deserved them as does any woman who leaves a sleeping baby alone in a car so she can do her shopping undisturbed.
i'm sure she thought her task would only take ten minutes.
i'm sure she thought her baby would be fine.
i'm sure she thought no one would notice.

but someone did notice and someone had to speak up.
i hope my words hurt her. i hope they hurt her so much that she'll never even consider doing that to her baby again. and i'm hoping it's an insult that rocked her to her core.

i know that i'll need this for the rest of my life

i haven't gotten any work done on my novel this week, but i have a really, really good reason.

i'm nursing a broken heart.

seriously.

i had a really emotional night on sunday, and even though it's days later, i'm still reduced to tears when i think about it. i'm sure to many my reason will seem silly, juvenile even, but i can't help it. i have a hollow spot inside me, and i'm afraid it might never get filled.

you see, my favorite band of all time is breaking up for good. forever. never to tour or make music again and i'm gutted.
i first fell in love with them as a girl 25 years ago. i mean, look at them! who wouldn't?

clearly there's some damn good breeding in norway.

but my love didn't subside after their overplayed first hit disappeared from MTV. their second album i hold dear to my heart. it's their most passionate, in my opinion, and it really spoke to me. not just as a kid, but through junior high, high school, college and as an adult.
i bought all their albums through the years, including solo projects.

my love for them never waned, not even when they went on a seven year hiatus. and in 2000 they delivered an amazing album along with an amazing european tour. i even had tickets to see them play in brussels and paris, but at the last minute had to cancel my travel plans.

they have since released three more albums, and have toured all over europe. i always hoped i'd get to see them here in the states, and last sunday my wish was granted.
but at a cost.

i can tell you i had the best time at the concert. i danced and sang during the entire show, doing my part to honor the band that gave me so much. when they played songs off their second album, well i was very affected. it brought me right back to those nights i'd lay on my bedroom floor with my head touching my speaker so the music could flow directly through me. and when they closed out the show with their biggest hit, well.....
i stood there. and cried. i tried to savor every note, every last second of their performance.

photo by Catherine 

i had no idea i'd feel like a part of me was torn out when they walked off the stage. i always knew their music had a special place in my heart, and that i used their songs as a way to cope through many rough times in my life. but intellectually knowing something and emotionally feeling it are two separate things.

luckily mr. write is very understanding and allowing me to grieve. and really, that's what i'm doing.
it's one thing when your favorite band goes on a break. another when they announce they will no longer record or tour as a group.
the soundtrack to my life is made up of a-ha songs, and it hurts to know they will never contribute to it ever again.

it's all so heartbreaking. and final.

i know this is something i'll get over and it's not the end of the world, but for right now i'm willing to be consumed by my sadness. so, i've been spending my spare time watching uploaded clips of their final american concert (the one i attended) and trying to keep from having a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

tragedy and comedy

last night, in between writing chapters, i watched part of the 1944 film Laura.
it's the kind of old film i love, filled with cliched characters: the brooding masculine detective, the beautiful and somewhat mysterious female lead, her charismatic yet immature fiance, and the older man-of-the-world who not so secretly loves her.

gene tierney plays the title role, and she is quite beautiful and alluring. i didn't know much about her as an actress, so i did some googling. i skimmed over the basics, like where she was born and how she began her career. what did catch my eye, however, was that she contracted rubella while pregnant at her only appearance at the hollywood canteen. as a result her daughter was born prematurely - deaf, partially blind and severely mentally retarded. years later at a tennis party a woman approached gene tierney and confessed that although sick with rubella, she'd snuck out of quarantine against her doctor's orders just so she could meet her favorite actress at the hollywood canteen.
i can only imagine the flurry of emotions running through gene tierney at that moment. i'm sure a part of her wanted to kill that woman who claimed to be her fan. a part of her must have felt relief that her daughter's condition was not her fault. there must have been a part that mourned for the normal life her daughter almost had.

my heart broke for her when i thought of her in that moment, facing the woman who had unknowingly changed two lives forever.

agatha christie used this incident in her mystery The Mirror Crack'd, and i can't blame her for using this story because it's so dramatic it almost seems like something out of a greek tragedy. but i don't know if i'd ever have skin thick enough to weave someone's true pain into a work of fiction.

and for the bit of comedy: did any of you read about this? just goes to show that spellcheck alone isn't always enough. wonder where the copy editor was on this one.

distracted by prince charming

i haven't posted or worked much on my wip in the last week because of two reasons:
1. i'm fighting off a bug, and
2. i've been distracted by the first man i ever loved

it started with a dream - vivid although extremely short, which got me thinking non-stop about the first person ever to make my heart flutter.
and this past week i've been hooked. i've been looking at pictures and videos, remembering the different places i saw him, basically obsessing.

i've been driving everyone around me bonkers, including mr. write, with my non-stop talking, researching, watching the former object of my desire. i couldn't really understand how one small dream could trigger my journey into the past, but a close friend of mine brought up a really good point.
"you've been reading nothing but young adult books that take place in high school," she said. "and your current novel also takes place in a high school. it makes sense your brain is processing things like a teenager because you're trying to recreate that world in your book. so it's no surprise to me your obsessing over your first love."

and i totally concur with this. although i first had feelings for this man at age 4, it wasn't until high school that i REALLY went overboard for him. i even told my high school boyfriend that we were only dating temporarily, since i was convinced i would end up marrying the man i was gaga over.

so, i'm hoping that this (wonderful) trip down memory lane is coming to an end so i can get back to writing!

btw - here is the man who swept me off my tiny feet at age 4, who was on my mind non-stop while in high school, and who i will always, always love and admire:

yes, the dandy highwayman himself: adam ant.