How I get my groove on
Sunday, April 12, 2009, 5:11 PM

Ever suffered a near-death experience?

Email me.



Okay, so I'm still writing Twilight saga fan fiction because I have no life. Also, because I love vampires. One in particular. Edward's so jam-packed of angst, feels like he's the worst thing ever born on earth, which understandably blinds him to his own worth. On top of this, he's in love and fighting bloodlust for the one he loves, and he's sexually untapped.

Quick, pass me a Hershey candy bar before I pass out.

I don't know why this particular character has affected me so strongly. (Quite a change from Michael Samuelle of La Femme Nikita, but they are both dangerous, beautiful inside, enigmatic, tormented and inhumanely sexy.) I've thought about it and I have some ideas, but that's not what this post is about.

ahem

I am a tender fuzzy peach being thrown against a brick wall--bruising, bruising, ow, bruising. I painfully-slow rip-roared through the dying scene (hah! a contradiction, yet it fits), but the rebirth is com.

Pleee.

Kated.

I've never fought through agonizing pain of death to be reborn as a vampire. Yeah, you might as well be surprised! Trying to imagine it--to imagine fighting through all that crap to be reborn in an alien body--is giving me a not-so-wonderful complex. I thought this part would be child's play next to writing about death and watching someone you love suffer through it. Either that, or I'm doing something wrong, trying to imagine and feel something too hard or too much.

So far, the best analogy I've been able to come up with is the time I woke up from one of my knee surgeries. It doesn't really count, though, because an anesthesiologist poked a needle into my spine to numb me the waist-frick-down, so I didn't feel any agony--just funked out confusion. But I still think I can still run with it because there was that sense of twisted pseudo reality I'm trying to convey.

Wow, was it weird. And funny (but it can't be funny, the piece I'm writing can't be funny).

Writing about a twisted kind of reality is hard. Writing well is hard. More than one person has told me this, but lah-lah-lah, I can't hear yah! I never wanted to believe them. Frick, writing was never HARD when I was growing up and didn't know diddly.

Yeah, that was then.

Writing is more than just spinning thoughts into words (it's gold-plated hell, okay?). I have to put myself into a certain dark frame of mind, which makes my body feel like the day after I've done 150 crunches and then chewed an entire pack of gum at once.

It's nuts, especially since I'll never get paid for doing this. Can't stop loving it or doing it, though. Won't. Cant-wont.

Labels: Twilight fan fiction

4 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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